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THE DRUM, Spring, 1973 
Vol, 4, No. 3 

Editorial, Circulation and Ad- 
vertising Offices located at 426 New 
Africa House, University of 
Massachusetts, Amherst, Mass. 

Printing: Gazette Printing Co., Inc., Northampton, Mass. 



A Dedication to Black Graduates 

A Note from the Editor 

Directions Unlimited 

Where Does Reality End? 

Noted Black Women 

The Waiting Room 

Black Youth 

Requiem for a CCEBS Graduate 

Senior Photos 

Too Late— Black Will Rise 

Time to Be Utilized 


From One War to Another 

Unity — A Necessity 

Lend a Hand 


William Roberts 

Cal B. Whitworth 

Angela Carelli 

Janis Peters 

Steve Masse 

Robert Smith 

Earl Strickland 

Robert Smith 

Robin Crawford 

Alice Robinson 

Larry Baugh 
Sandra McBride 

A Note from the Editor .... 

Issues and crises have come and gone and nnany of us have had a 
great part in determining the resuU of many of these situations in terms 
of how they effect our community. These efforts are all important for 
without the energies that some of us expend, I don't think it would 
have been possible for us to survive. I only wish that many more of us 
would contribute to the constant building process that is sustained 
solely to make progress a reality here. 

A viewpoint from another perspective dictates that I outline our 
major purpose for being here in the first place. We are here as students 
therefore our primary responsibility is to study. We cannot forsake 
that for if we do we will fail and eventually have no community at all. 

This Drum issue is concerned with the dual situation that we as 
students and as members of a continuously emerging community are 
confronted with. 

We must keep striving. To those of us who graduate this year my 
heartiest congratulations, and to those who don't, keep on pushing. 

We will succeed because we must. 

For some, the end of this semester will mark first year on 
this campus, for a few more the last, and the middle of the 
readers keep looking ahead. It's at this time that I think it best 
to assess the real accomplishment of a black community that has 
grown from about one hundred in 1968 to six hundred in 1973. 
An assessment that should reveal politically, economically and 
socially the position of the black community here at the 
University of Massachusetts. Our position in relation to and 
compared to our surrounding communities — Springfield, 
Boston, New York, to mention a few. 

When the initiators of the Committee for the Collegiate 
Education of Black Students brought their first one hundred 
"guinea pigs " to this campus, they had no conception of the 
difficulties that these students would have to endure. They 
thought the only handicap would be insufficient high school 
preparation, and so, didn't anticipate the cultural shock that 
would serve as the largest stumbling block to these students, the 
fact that they would have to deal with white folks who never 
saw a "negro " except on TV rioting, to deal with those who 
scream "nigger" as you make your way back on the hill, walk 
into your assigned room to see a white boy on the next bed 
whose eyes light up in fear when you enter (one good thing is 
you'd have a single a week later). 

Such a student in terms of surviving had two worlds to deal 
with. He had the natural world — the task of surviving against 
an antagonistic majority and of eking knowledge from an 
enemy bent on flunking him out. He had the social world, and 
what a trip that was, at least you didn't have to ask where the 
party was — you knew, everybody knew, there was only one. 

The students of that era had a close affiliation. They had to 
harness their forces, and adapt to their unnatural situation so 
that their survival could be enhanced plus, they had to create a 
social situation to aid in this survival. 

Today when we speak about things that happen in the 
social situation that are hostile and inimical to the prospect of 
survival, we label these with the designation "enemy." The 
distinction between the struggle for survival against the physical 
environment, and the struggle against the antagonistic forces 
and situations in the social realm is a very important distinction 
to make because often the struggle in the social realm is really 
the only struggle that many people are caught up in. They are 
not directly or even indirectly involved in struggling against the 
physical environment i.e. the political and economical base of 
this institution. It is true that our survival does somewhat 
depend upon struggling within the social realm but that is no 
longer the primary factor as it was three years ago. 

The fight against economical and political organization is 
our primary struggle and we must organize our social situation 
to cope with that. Some might say that the Third World 


Alliance has political organization, and that the cultural center 
has economical organization. Oh yea.'' 

Political barbarism or is it political inexperience is keeping 
thinking brothers and sisters from establishing a strong black 
student body on campus. It's paranoia and distrust of each other 
that makes this hard, even impossible, and the apathetic mass 
does nothing in the way of helping to make changes. 

Now some, if not most of those early ""pioneers,"' have left 
our ranks, unheralded, as if it was commonplace to see black 
students graduate from this institution. It is to those unheralded 
graduates that we owe our present existence on this campus. 
They started a magazine — this magazine, a radio show, they 
arose early one morning three years ago and marched to 
Whitmore for a real purpose, they took over Amherst College 
and Springfield College, and they gave us a cultural center, not 
to mention a Black Studies Department. 

And what have we done to laud their efforts. Nothing! 
This magazine has been the same since it started, still 
desperately seeking workers. And who responds.-* Those 
interested in three free credits.-* Two years ago you worked for 
the magazine because you were black and the magazine 
represented you. The Ujamma Drum radio show has even lost 
hours since then. And the cultural center.-' The only time most 
of us go in there is when time comes for application for more 
funds, or that occasional party on Friday or Saturday night. 

The progress that was made by our present seniors (class 
1973) and last year's graduates (class 1972), was done through 
unity. Everybody had a goal; to make this university a 
meaningful experience for themselves and others following. 
They had a value system which is essential to any movement. A 
value system that would make this university a place to live and 
to learn and to make it answer the needs left back in their 
respective communities. Just imagine what it was like coming 
from "The Bury" or Harlem or Springfield to a totally white 
institution and you can see why theirs was a unity that was all- 
inclusive. We had a value system. One, that began to make this 
institution answer to our needs, the things that were important 
to us. A predictable, meaningful table value system pointing 
toward a single goal. Through a value system we arrive at self- 
determination and then proceed to collectively work toward this 
goal. The value system selects the goal, we apply ourselves to it, 
live by it and practice it and the rest will follow. 

Too often our so-called leaders without a black value 
system, do exacdy the, same things the professors do. They 
make alliances with the institution that enable them to better 
themselves both financially and educationally and leave the 


apathetic unaware mass with little to go on, except maybe to 
plea for more CCEBS money. 

For this institution to answer to the needs we left in our 
respective communities we need a liberation of our minds that 
enables us to think, keeping our brothers and sisters in mind at 
all times. A value system that projects outside of this institution 
and into our surrounding communities is the most potent shield 
that is needed at present. 

Let's look at ourselves four years later, we are weak in 
crucial areas, scattered and corrupted, disillusioned, conscious 
of our needs without the ability to satisfy them and meditating 
on what might have been. But it's not all lost, this is check, not 
checkmate. 'We have strengths as well as contradictions and 
weaknesses, revolutionary as well as reactionary elements. 
What is essential here is to distinguish the subjective from the 
objective conditions, and the possibilities of our struggle and to 
move within this awareness. We need to consolidate and keep 
our gains, and engage in a constant reassessment of our internal 
and external conditions. 

We cannot deny that some of our leaders have indulged in 
an overabundance of subjective formulations and often 
obscured or erased from view conditions that had to be 
confronted and overcome in the pursuit of our goal. 

We have submitted to symbols and slogans, believed that 
a leather jacket and an El Dorado had some intrinsic value — an 
answer to our problems. We have engaged in empty arguments, 
self diminishing discussions of personalities and imagined 
power. Our leaders have alienated the masses, calling for them 
only when needed, and the response comes with little or no 
seriousness, or collective resistance. 

Freshmen offer no incentive. For most of them, things are 
alright, they have no complaints. They just don't seem to care 
about getting involved in building a "proper community." They 
are content to sit back and let the upper classmen do the work. 
Without initiative freshmen, how can the struggle progress.'' 
Seniors can't do anymore, they've done their share as evidenced 
by their existence to now. A freshman on entering this 
institution has a much different perspective on the relevancy of 
this institution. All they seem to miss is the vain parties that 
they can't go to back home. 

In a past issue of this magazine Dr. Gloria Joseph wrote, 
"the pre-'63 Black students were still very much under the 
influence of parent and adult community leaders who espoused 
the philosophy of "Do well in school; get your education, and 
no doors will be closed to you" . . . CVol. , No. ) It seems to 
me that the '73 Black student is also under the same influence. 

their whole aim and goal is to get those A's and get the hell out. 
They seem to lack sufficient internal strength which will enable 
them to wage the battle for a significant and relevant education 
and campus life. They intend to graduate and "make it." 
Make it? What they will really be doing is going thru four 
years of "lilywhite" education which will hand them a degree 
and send them out with confused minds only to return to the 
outside world thinking they are "doing the do, " and increasing 
problems for Black people. 

The continuously mcreasing number ot entermg Black 
students every year should give increasing strength to the 
struggle. That's what the freshmen four years ago thought, they 
could hardly wait for more "folks." A senior today will tell you 
that "We could hardly wait for the one hundred and fifty more 
niggers coming next year, so we could turn this place out." And 
they came and they helped and more came and helped, and still 
more came but the progress slowed down. It even came to a 

A senior will tell you how they heartily welcomed 
Michael Thelwell back as the chairman of the W.E.B. DuBois 
Black Studies Department. "His return seemed to be a reward 
for the suffering that many endured during his seemingly 
eternal, but brief absence" ( — Drum Editorial, Philip Petti- 
john. Winter 1971, Vol. No. ). 

This university will never progress to the point of 
answering our needs as long as there are apathetic black students 
around. How any Third World person on this campus can 
indulge in apathy is inconceivable. It's these apathetic brothers 
and sisters that our leaders should reach out to and educate. At 
the moment too many are afraid to take on responsibilities, too 
afraid to make mistakes, and not enough trust in oneself to trust 
anyone else. 

A current freshman entering this institution sees everything 
that a freshman four years ago didn't. It was with unity and 
sincere trust for the other one hundred, that they built what you 
see today — . A magazine, a radio program, Black Studies 
department, and more than anything else they paved the way 
for you to come here and see something that represents us Black 

It is to those students who entered this institution in 1968 
and 1969 graduates or dropouts that this article pays Tribute. If 
you are one of those who still feel that this institution does not 
answer your needs don't blame the whites, blame yourself. A 
black student on this campus must develop so serious and earnest 
an attitude towards making this institution answer his needs 
and the needs of his community that there should be very little 
room left for fear, vanity or paranoia. Let us start living in true 
unity and start dealing before it's too late! 

CalB. Whitworth 

where Does Reality End? 

Life turns to ashes as the years slip by. 

Rain never stops and the sun always shines. 

Hearing nothing and listening to all 

Try to walk and the world will fall. 

Never caring what the next day will bring 

Hopes and plans will soon just linger 

Smoke turns to tears, the minute time ends 

A fire breaks and then the world pretends 

Searching everywhere to get something free 

The chase begins, could this really be? 

Eyes look out and find nothing real 

The clock strikes twelve and the church bells peal. 

Suddenly, life is restored to the mind and soul 

And the sun rises slowly into the morning blue and gold. 

The rays of sun glow like a guilding beam 

Discovering the whole situation was a dream. 

Angela Carelli 






To the members of the Third World Community at UMass the name Esther Terry can be 
equated with many things: dynamic Black woman, boundless energy, respected actress, 
distinguished director, and inspiring instructor. She is best known to the University 
Community for her work in the Black Reperjjery Theatre. Presently she is involved in teaching 
a course on Black Women. This year Esther has been involved in two plays, one at Smith 
College entitled "Amen Corner," performed at Smith College, in which she had the starring role, 
and the other "Father, Son, Woman" which she directed, was performed at UMass. Sister Terry 
has a hectic schedule, however I was fortunate to be able to interview her one afternoon in her 
office at the New Africa fiouse for a few minutes. In the next few lines is a brief interview with 
an individual who glows with greatness. 

Question: How did the Black Repertory Theatre come 

Answer: It grew out of my Black Drama Class. The 
contemporary plays we were reading could 
be seen in New York, but the further back 
in time we went, the more trouble there 
was in seeing the plays. No one wanted to 
produce old plays so my students suggest- 
ed we put on the plays ourselves. Then 
there was another problem, the students 
wanted to continue to be in plays after 
they had finished the Black Drama Class, 
Solution, form a company, the Black Rep- 
ertory Theatre. 

Question: What about outside criticisms you've re- 
ceived from doing old plays? 

Answer: We're not interested in the outside. Inside 
is where it's all happening! We have two 
main reasons for performing old plays: 
experience, and secondly learning about 
our people. Each play we do is researched 
thoroughly by the whole class. In this 
way it becomes more than just a play, it 
becomes a learning experience. When we 
did the play "Frederick Douglass and 
John Brown," the students did all the re- 
search to find out if these two men really 
knew each other, and checked out ques- 

tions like "Why didn't Douglass join in 
John Brown's Raid?" So, it was also a 
very important history lesson as well as a 
play production. It helps the actors to 
feel and really become the part they are 

I also feel it is of great value to put on 
old plays because there's something about 
Black folk in every part of history that 
helps us understand where we are today. 
Personally, my favorite play was "Our 
'Lan" because it tells exactly how life was 
in the 1930's and how Black life centered 
around the church. It was their only 
means of hope. In the church. Black folk 
had no fear of anything, no racial dis- 
crimination, and no poverty. Sunday was 
the one day of the week they were com- 
pletely happy and free which is evidenced 
in many gospel songs. 

Question: What criteria is used to decide which 

shows are to be performed? 
Answer: The students choose from shows we have 

read and like, then we decide which plays 

to do as a group. 

Question: What about your own acting? 

Answer: We all work as a group. The students de- 
cide which role I play. I don't have to be 
a star, I act anywhere I fit in. Sometimes I 
do take the lead because the students feel 
that I've had the experience to handle the 
part. Or other times I'm needed for a fill- 
in, like the church scene from "Natural 

Question: Who makes up the Black Repertory Thea- 

Answer: It's a totally community thing, open to 
everyone and most of our actors have had 
no experience. We don't ask the critics to 
give us a break because we aren't experi- 
enced, because by the time we get out 
there we're pretty damn good. The success 
of our shows comes from the fact that the 
Black Repertory Theatre is a community 
thing. The total production is put on by 
the community. We make all of our cos- 
tumes, scenery, and makeup. We have 
people helping us from Amherst, North- 
ampton, as well as Springfield. Every in- 
dividual in our productions is important. 

Question: How did your group decide to do "Father, 
Son, Woman?" 

Answer: Although this is not the type of play 
that we want to be doing all the time, we 
thought it would be a worthwhile learning 
experience. The play was written by a 
Nigerian about his people. Our first pro- 
ject was to learn all about the Yoruba cul- 
ture. It's one thing to say 'yeah man, I'm 
an African person and another thing to 
really know about Africa. Blacks should 
no longer just see Africa as one big place. 
We must reach out and see what connects 
us to our past. This is what we tried to do 
in "Father, Son, Women." We knew all 
about Yoruba culture before that curtain 
went up. We didn't act like we thought 
Nigerians acted; for the entire show we 
were Nigerians. In the future I would like 
to see more Third World plays done from 
Haiti, Jamaica or other places. 

In the last few minutes that remained, the conversation switched from the theatre to Esther's class on the 
Black Woman that she teaches with Johnetta Cole. 

"To me this is one of the most interesting and moving courses offered this semester. Our objective is to 
study biographies and autobiographies. We look at the individual woman and her history to find out what 
connects us with her. We go beyond the contemporary sisters because we know that History is full of noted 
Black women. You know it's really very moving to have a class where Brothers and Sisters are about the serious 
business of establishing what it's like to be a woman and Black in the United States." 

There are many noted Black women in this area but, to date many have been neglected. Esther Terry was 
chosen for this issue because she is one of the most respected Black women in our community. 

Janis Peters 






You are a tiny flesh thing — remember? Your world is a slippery and slidey one inside of a water bal- 
loon, full of water, warm and easy. You exist — you! A strange new concept. All of a sudden here you 
are, feeling something. You feel your body having fun, slipping and sliding around and around. Yes, the 
awareness is beginning to seep into your newly made body. Back and forth you slip and slide, just loving 
it. What's this? Some stubby soft limb finds Its way to your mouth — your soft tiny mouth feels five tiny 
stubs on one bigger stub — you taste your fingers one at a time. The fat one tastes better — your thumb. It 
must be part of you, because your mouth can feel It and it can feel your mouth. They both feel each other. 
You can feel both of them! They must both be you — what fine innovations to slipping and sliding you 
have been provided with. A mouth and a thumb — both of them part of you! 

And thinking on this, you drift Into your first embryonic sleep, thumb in mouth. 

BIm. Grb, blub, dp. . . . You can feel a soft voice talking to another voice not so soft: that not so soft 
voice Is distant, mechanical — sterile almost. But you are under the soft voice. Each time the soft voice 
moves, you stop rocking to listen to it in your slippery, sloshly home. You listen. That must be the one 
who holds you — you could almost trust that soft voice. 

While you are staying still, something causes you to move. You keep sloshing around towards the 
bottom of the water balloon, then bouncing up and down, down and up! You can not yet count stairs 
though — they are bouncey things which take you into the hospital. 

Suddenly you realize something you never knew before — something in front of your head — feels 
something. Temptation. Light! Glorious shades of light. That's what those things in your head are for. 
But there's nothing in the light — it's just not the same as dark any more — you feel discovery! What else? 
What more is going to be so new! You are dying to find new feelings — new things. Such a long while ago 
you discovered fun. Then you discovered your thumb and your mouth. Bouncing. And now light. What 
later? What more glory could this all bring? 

Your thumb finds its way to your mouth, and you rock back and forth as the soft voice moves further 
out of the light. Perhaps It is also rocking, the owner of the soft voice — rocking back and forth in some- 
thing — in a bigger water balloon? 

Suddenly it is all unlight again. Dark. The warm water balloon is getting uncomfortably warm for 
you. The soft voice is not so soft — it is what makes you feel like not rocking back and forth. Upset. 
But after a long while it is very quiet again. You feel better — almost. . . 

Perhaps the owner of the voice is sleeping — but have not felt such a calmness in any of the voice's 
sleeping periods before. It is very calm, sedate. . . . 

But you can sense some sterile voices in the distance — how can one sleep so sedately while another 

All of a sudden you sense a nagging tug — something pulling — drawing you. But you are not ready 
to go — your body knows that twelve warm weeks is not enough. You have yet to make preparations! The 
tugging gets more and more violent — more dizzying! 

It is too much. . . . 

Your world has been rent. The sloshy slipping and sliding world has ripped open and the water let out 
— it closes in about you like a sucked in plastic bag! Everything becomes harsh and dry as you are 
plunged into acrid light. The bag is no longer containing you, you have slipped out — but you burn! The air 
feels like lye and you choke and your body vomits for air and you are afraid! A mistake has been made. 
Your lungs are too small — you try to breathe, but it hurts and your tiny tight-lidded eyes burn because the 
light is too strong. Your entire body is burning from the air as you shriek out a cry of anguish. You have 
been betrayed by the soft voice — there is no going back. The eyes that burned from the magnesium light 
do not burn any more. All is black. . . . 

Your body is twisted and mutilated and burning and annihilated as you spin dizzily into a gasping, 
choking black agony. Forever. . . . 

You have lived long enough — you are no longer needed. They were afraid nobody would love or care 
for you as a child. . . . 

Steve Masse 



13 years old and strung out on drugs, 
just one more to sweep up under the rug. 
He never stood strong and stout, 
one less nigger to worry about. 
But me, the needle is not my thing, 
can't let them hang me out on a string. 
Got to get ahead, and be cool, 
let them think that I'm their fool. 
And then like a flash I will appear, 
then for once, they'll know I'm here! 
I want all Black to stand by my side, 
cause it's gonna be a hell of a ride. 
And when it's done we'll cry out loud. 
Yes my man, I'm Black and Proud! 

Robert Smith 



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« 1 

Requiem for a CCEBS Graduate 

He knew, as had other generations of his family, that 
things could be better. In an undefinably mysterious way, he 
knew that there must be a way out, and that he, he had the 
power to get out, if he was only given the chance. 

He came, up from the lowlands, following the dotted 
white line of the Interstate as if hypnotized by the magic of 
speed. As he gazed out of the window of Greyhound, he mar- 
veled at the increasing numbers of brick and concrete wonders 
before him. 

Indeed this was a new world, a new beginning; a new 
environment, new friends, new values, a new life. This is it, 
he thought, what he had dreamed of, what he had wanted for 
so very long. 

Yes, it would be good, this new world of his. His free- 
dom and independence were exhilirating. He felt as he had 
never felt before. Now it all was his, a new world, a chance 
to forget the sadness of the past, a chance to work in the pre- 
sent for the future, a chance to look forward to the future with 
hope, as if this new world was of prophecy or divine interven- 

In his new home he found others who shared his dreams 
and aspirations. They too had witnessed a revival, a revival of 
spirit and life, and were very anxious, as he was, to get on with 

However, in the early morning of his joy, he awoke to 
find the same conditions he had so gladly left behind. He was 
saddened to find seclusion and denial forcibly thrust upon him. 
No matter how hard he tried, it seemed that inhumanity fol- 
lowed him. 

And wl.en he saw this, he had bitter memories, memories 
that ached hi', heart and tore at his sense of justice. 

All of this did not sadden him for too long. The bitter 
aftertaste of ihe past had made him all the more determined to 
go out and seek his cause, to change the world and to correct 
what he saw wrong with it. 

In those days, many theories of social advancement were 
going around among his people. Depending upon the refer- 
ence group used, one, he was told, could succeed by becoming 
a professional athlete, or a singer, or a janitor, or a housekeep- 
er, or even a pimp. But the most common, and most respecta- 
ble, alternative that lay open to him was that of education. 

Education, as the American dream would have it, and as 
it was told to him, is the key to opportunity, to a good job, to 
a good life. With an education, he could do as he pleased, the 
sky being the limit. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could stop 
him // he had an education, for an education, as everyone 
knows, is the passport to the American way of life. 

(Continued on page i8) 


Requiem for a CCEBS Graduate . . . 

(Continued from page i6) 

He succumbed, as many did, to this argument of education. With an education, he would win the respect of 
his family and community. With an education, he would become a spokesman for all the just, yet neglected causes 
of his people. With an education, the world would be his playground and he would change it as he pleased. With 
an education, he would use his insight for the betterment of his people. 

At the announcement of his intentions to go to college, there was a feeling of pride and jubilation. The first in 
his family to attend college, he was told, if it was to be done, this was the way to do it. His life was to be better than 
his father's. He would no longer have to listen to others. Yes, he was told, an education is what you want. 

And, as if by a miracle, there was a school with a program for him and other minority students who sought 
to correct past injustices through education. It was almost as if someone had read his mind and knew what he 

He thought it was going to be easier than he had imagined. There were others who had similar ideas. Surely 
together they would be able to make it. 

And then it began. The realities of the world began to beat his brow. There was work and studying to be 
done. There was a test of his patience and enthusiasm. There was a political as well as an academic education to 
acquire. There were stereotypes and prejudices to be done away with. There was a pride to be had. 

It was a phenomenal task, he found, to be a minority in a white world, to be strong in the face of potential 
disaster. It was a phenomenal task to be challenged to the fullest potential. It was a phenomenal task to distinguish 
himself, curricularly or extracurricularly. It was a phenomenal task to develop awareness and sensitivity. It was a 
phenomenal task to be successful, to acquire the skills and talents he needed to go back and do something 
meaningful for his community. It was a phenomenal task to get himself together, socially and academically. It was 
a phenomenal task to avoid the potential shallowness of education, to go beyond the generalities of a liberal arts 
education to the specificity and expertise of specialization that was needed, if he was to go back and effect change for 
his people. 

Suddenly, it all became frightening. There was too much to learn, too much to do. And he retreated, 
retreated with the others to a security, rigged with a detonator of four years, retreated to sharp clothes, hip music, 
dynamite parties, retreated to easy courses and easy majors, retreated from the realities of life, a life that would 
necessarily continue to be harsh. 

In the end, he became a master, and subsequently a servant, of fear, not using his education to facilitate 
understanding of minority peoples, but intimidating others to grant his demands, relying upon irrational fear based 
upon guilt feelings and ignorance and never once attempting to do away with irrational fear and ignorance. 

And now it is over, four years and a degree. It is now too late to go back and begin anew. He has lost all that 
was possible. The talents and skills necessary to deal with the problems of minority communities are lacking, and 
the traditional white power continues to refuse to relinquish its unjust control of the economics of these communities. 
And we are incapable of wrestling it from them. 

His idealism has perished. His worth has been abnegated. His shame overwhelms him. 

And now he, a senior, has a story to tell, a sad story, of time and of irrevocable intent, a story of short-lived 
purpose, a story of unfilled dreams, a story without dedication, a story of history. Just as he cannot go back in time 
and start anew with his new-found insights, he cannot live his life again. He can only tell his story and hope that 
there are some, a few, who will listen and heed his advice. 

His story is meant for those who he feels he might be able to forewarn, to avoid the snares that entrapped 
him and never let him go until the white man said so, until it was too late to go back and do the work of his people. 

Life-long goals are not achieved in a four year span. It is a lifetime of work. It is a maturity of knowing what 
one wants. It is a stubbornness to not take "no " for an answer. It is the perseverance of time and effort. It is a love 
of humanity that sustains throughout the struggle. It is a fight for the impossible dream that began yesterday and 
bears fruit in further success, today. 

Earl Strickland 


CCEBS Seniors 

Gwendolyn Allen 

Michael Anderson 

Kevin Andrews 

Jeff Bates 

Rhonda Boiling 

Johnathan Clarke 

Deidre Darden 

Herman Davenport 

Mildred Davenport 



It's too late to undo the things you've done, 

you've already lost and he has won. 

Childish hearts cry over what's gone, 

to be a man you must carry on. 

You must bear the pain, the hurt, the sorrow, 

always remembering that there's tomorrow. 

Robert Smith 


Today my people are pushed around, 

like loose dirt that lies on the ground. 

We get the little jobs like butlers and maids, why? 

because we did not get our grades. 

It hurts to know that we're behind, yes, 

all my people at the end of the line. 

Now's the time to make a stand, get Black together 

for the good of the land. 

Push on and if you need a hand, I'll help you out, 

I'm your Brother man. 

Robert Smith 


CCEBS Seniors 

Rene Eady 

Heriberto Flores 

Stephanie Harriston 

Parris Howard 

Mary Hyatt 

Carol Ingram 

Janel Lucas 

Wayne Lucas 

Florine McClary 


The Beautiful 

Sandra Mitchner 

Edna Moses 

George Mumford 

James Parks 

Trent Poole 

Michael Robbins 

Lisaheth Roberts 

William Roberts 

John Sanders 



Robert Saunders 

;-/4lfe-'. -'/.i 

Gilberto Sotolongo 

Earl Strickland 

Marie Thomas 

Patricia Thomas 

Karen (Brown) Thompson 

Jose Tolson 

Brenda Walker 

Patricia Webb 


CCEBS Seniors 

Calvert Whitworth 

Barbara ]. Groomes 


Ray Blount ,i 

Clarence Brooks 
Thelma Boiling 
Doris Cruthird 
Robin Chandler Smith 
John Davis 
Ramona Dinatale 
Steven Dottin 
Candice Early 
Lynn Fletcher 
Linton Gilling 
Shelley Hatton 
Barbara Headrick 
Christine Hill 
Janis Hunter 
David Jones 
Alfonso Key 
Bernice Kimbrel 

Pamela Modlin 

Chanda Morrison 

Reginald McDowell 

Anthony Pendleton 

John Reed 

Wandra Roderick Harmson 

Haydee Santos 

Glynne Sealy 

James Sharpe 

Kenneth Singleton 

Al Starks 

Harold Stone 

Dwight Tavada 

Earl Thomas 

Kenneth Whitsett 

Steven Williams 

Donna Winston 


( ( 

Time to Be Utilized'' 

Time to do 

what needs to be done. 

Time to understand the people. 

Time to create a means to 

overcome all the political problems of this 
society and the problems of this world. 

Time to overcome 

the obstacles that will come in our 

Time not to be wasted. 

Time must be utilized, 

to create and to do what must be done, 
what has to be done. 

Time is here 
to be 


'7i -meaning now and in 

recent years. 
Robin Crawford 



Black people have been battling all their lives. Each generation of Black folk 
has survived all kinds of injustices. The Black veteran has had the battles at home 
but, in addition has had to contend with fighting for purposes other than his own. 
Hamburger Hill, Hill 881, Tonkin Gulf, Da Nang, and countless other battles of 
that catastrophe— Vietnam. Brothers not only having to deal with the North 
Vietnamese, the "enemy," or as the White world calls them "Gooks," but the 
increased threat of racism that has been carefully carried and coveted by their 
white counterparts. During this traumatic experience (normally before Rotation to 
a new assignment) Black men witness what could be called a brotherhood that was 
Utopian in nature. All the brothers had were themselves and contrary to the 
popular belief that they were forced into truly loving and staying with each other 
and looking out for each other, the brothers did have other alternatives. The 
opportunity was there and was chosen. Through this love for one another they 
introduced a new dimension to the Vietnam War. Dapping, or so-called soul hand 
shaking sometimes for nearly twenty minutes was a powerful thing. Naturally the 
Whites tried to analyze this beautifully executed expression of love and unity but 
the best they could come up with was an Ancient Tibetan Ritual of some sort. 
They didn't understand the ritual or what it was for. 

For the brothers who made it back from Nam, some (very few) were able to 
find employment, some became members of the Black Liberation Army and are 
involved for example, in teaching younger brothers in their communities the art of 
defending themselves. Some went back to the corners they came off of because 
they couldn't find employment and some went off to the schools making use of 
their G.I. Bills. 

Those brothers who went from Vietnam to college left one hellified physical 
war only to enter a hellified mental war. These individuals had to adjust in 1001 
ways to countless situations, in short, to everything that was going on around 
them. The difficulties encountered can only be determined individually. These 
largely depend on how gregarious the person is, how many associates he has and 
most importantly how successful he has been in detaching himself psychologically 
from his previous situation. 

The University situation is harsh, for example, most students are younger and 
much less experienced so that daily occurring problems cannot be understood or 
shared with fellow students. Counselors can counsel a lot of people but the 
university institution hardly has a program especially geared for Veterans. Its 
major concern is helping high schoolers grow up. 

These are only a few problems that naturally lead to many, many others. 
Solutions are much needed! Where to go for assistance or solutions is a constantly 
unanswered question for the Black Veteran. When searching Veterans who are 
Black need answers many people at the university want to sit and talk and 
unfortunately that is all that happens. This, an agonizing and depressing situation 
must end. 

The War, The Battle, The Fight, goes on! And on! ! 



"Africa Lives! Her Black tentacles stretch to the 
four corners of the earth. Her aspiring people em- 
brace the cultures of all lands, forming a community 
of nations. Black people, people of color, are all of 
the same; people of dignity, all with a common root 
going back to the motherland." 

The words of Imamu Amiri Baraka stunned my 
mind. What was this concept," Community of Na- 
tions?" Is this to say that all people of color, regard- 
less of their own distinct cultural roots, assume a 
greater commonality? Does this commonality have 
more relevance than Spanish to a Puerto Rican or 
street talk to an Afro-American? Are we further to 
assume that because a man is Black, he is of dignity? 

Is this community to have marked similarities, 
such as a France or an Afganistan? Is this community 
to have those similarities that make a community 
background, or is this community to rise to some level 
of community consciousness not yet realized in the 
scheme of the world. When discussing the com- 
munity, do our eminent Black spokesmen take into 
account that, even at the tiny Black community of the 
University of Massachusetts, the Black populus 
would be willing to sacrifice the roots they identify 
with for some higher form of consciousness. Who 
among us might be able to make that determination. 
Which is more important? 

I would propose that although Black people pos- 
sess a commonality of color, the distinct and smaller 
cultural identity often matters more to the people and 
for anyone to talk of a cohesion of people as a whole, 
without first identifying and appealing to these dis- 
tinctions, is unrealistic. At the University of Massa- 
chusetts, as with several Black populations within the 
collegiate structure, people form smaller groups, 
often called "cliques," are natural gravitations of peo- 
ple and cannot always be viewed as detrimental to the 
formation of a total community. Our Black leaders at 
the University often down-grade the Black populus 
for lack of togetherness without taking into account 
that these students come from different backgrounds 
and often, that these elemental roots are not cohesive 
in a community sense. If we, as Black folks, are to 
organize a community on this campus or any other 
for that matter, definition and re-definition are neces- 
sary. Efforts should be made to define those groups 
which do exist and maybe reinforce them. A re-de- 
finition of goals maybe should be implemented so as 
to include all these different factions to create some- 
thing for everybody. 

Here at the University of Massachusetts, there 
exist not one Black community but several. They can 
be broken down, to a certain extent, according to 
where people come from, but more so the pertinent 
divisions are where people live and who they associate 
with when they get here. Black students come from 
many areas around the state and also from several 
other states in the union. Some people come from 
Boston, some from New Bedford. Some people come 
from Chicago and some from Detroit. Black people 
come from Springfield and New York city. All are 
different areas of the country, with similar but differ- 
ent problems and needs. How are these individual 
needs to be satisfied by an umbrella philosophy? 

How are these individual differences to be satisfied 
through a group consciousness? People are only 
here for a maximum of four years anyway (with some 
going a bit longer). Do these philosophies of com- 
munity consciousness seek to eliminate what it has 
taken many more years of orientation to create? 

On the campus itself, divisions are clear. You 
have all Black corridors in several dormitories. 
Mackimmie, Grayson and John Adams have organ- 
ized the men and Webster has begun to organize the 
women. In the place that people relax, such as the 
Malcolm X room and the "corner" down at the 
Hatch, an eating spot, the same people day in and out 
hang there, rarely realizing a new membership. One 
might say that New Africa House, where most Black 
learning departments and help organizations are lo- 
cated and where several Black classes are taught, 
would be the common denominator, but indeed, it has 
its own peculiar clientele also. Even within the organ- 
izational structure, the same people are active all of 
the time. Each one of these community facets has its 
own distinct identity. These have their own impor- 
tant set of priorities and values. The assertion of 
these values when large masses of people come to- 
gether sometimes causes difficulties and prevents the 
gospel of community from taking a firm entrench- 
ment. This brings about a dis-unity which in turn 
leads to a further manipulation. 

But although these cliques cause this disunity, 
they do serve a purpose. No one Black person can be 
expected to relate to all of the rest of the Black popu- 
lus. People are individuals, with, as I have stated, 
different needs and articulations. The cliques serve 
to satisfy these needs, giving the Brother or Sister the 
fulfillment that he or she might need. These cliques 
are formed out of Black love for one another, and this 
is a quality that is seldom bad in any form. But the 
community is important also, so where can equilibri- 
um be reached? Maybe it is time for the Black leader- 
ship or those that are more qualified to lead, to pay 
some attention to these areas that I have just named 
for they are important and are not going anywhere. 
Just because some man might say that we are a Black 
community here at UMass, a person does not lose 
sight of the fact that his mother is still in New York 
and he loves her very much. I would like to see some- 
thing organized that is more representative of the 
community as a whole. 

To stretch this point further, look at the country. 
All the people in it are in different locations, can they 
all be construed to be the same and are they treated as 
such? The realization of the community cannot be 
achieved around all the divisions that do exist and the 
divisions that do exist are necessary so that the needs 
of the individual are met. Clearly, a new social inven- 
tion is in order. One that will transcend the barriers 
of the clique formation and still include some facet of 
it. Black people can come together, for they formed 
the cliques to begin with, but this should not come at 
the price of lost individuality. Some things are impor- 
tant, one's individual Blackness is one of them. Do 
not forsake that which is you and you alone, for it is 
then that you will really be lost. 

Larry Baugh 



Togetherness, is when you see a black 
mother and child in the gutter. 
"Lend a Hand." 

Togetherness, is when you see 
your black brother getting kicked 
by the white man, you 
"Lend a Hand." 

Togetherness is when you see Black 
brothers and sisters struggling for 
unity among Black people, 
and you, "Lend a Hand. " 

All this is togetherness 
so why don't you 
"Lend a Hand." 

Sandra McBride 




The Staff would like to thank these individuals for 
their contributions. 

For Art: Carlos Lopes 
Eustis Niles 
Luis Medina 

For Prose: Steven Masse 

For Poetry: Robert Smith 
Alice Robinson 

Sandra McBride, a group of junior high school 

students from Boston. 

Robin Crawford, a high school student 
from Connecticut. 

Special thanks go to the Drum Staff who have worked 
diligently this year to give you the best product 
possible, and to Nat Rutstein whose support and 
confidence helped in making that goal a reality. 

Next year the Drum will be honored by the capable 
leadership of two individuals— ^WJh, BARROWS f^^d 
EDWARD ROGERS, our new Co-Editors. Let us 
extend our congratulations to them but along with that 
gesture let us determine to support them in their duties by 
more than giving complaints or pats on the back. Let''s 
pitch in and work to make Drum a better magazine than 
what it is or has been. 

In Unity, 
I Billy Roberts — Editor