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The  Drum,  Spring  1978 
Volume  9,  Number  2 

Editorial,  Circulation  and 

Advertising  Offices 
Located  at  427  New  Africa  House, 
University  of  Massachusetts 
Amherst,  Mass.  01003 
1-413-545-3120 

Address 

All  Letters 

Poems,  Contributions 

To  The  Above  Address. 


Copyright  by  Drum, 
427  New  Africa  House 
Printing:  Hamilton  L  Newell, 
Amherst,  Mass. 


Inc. 


One  of  the  art  forms  they  took  from  us  when 
we  came  to  this  strange  land  was  the  drum.. 
Here  in  Amherst  we  got  our  DRUM  back 
after  great  struggle  9  years  ago.  We  are  learn- 
ing how  to  remember  the  correct  rhythms 
and  we've  got  it  right  now.  Check  us  out  and 
let  M5  know  if  you  hear  us  for  we  are  always 
in  danger  of  again  losing  our  drum. 


Front  Cover:  John  Kendrick 
Back  Cover:  Frank  Thornton 


DRUM  would  like  to  extend  its  deepest  apologies  to  Fritz  Walker  for  not  giving  him  credit  for  the  fine  cover 
painting  on  the  South  African  Issue  of  DRUM  Vol.  8  No.  1-2,  and  also  to  Edward  Cohen  for  his  photography  on 
page  43  of  that  same  issue. 


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Drum      I 


■rf-i^'Mt. 


It  is  as  a  rebirth 

We  now  enter  the  world 

Relying  upori  our  own  survival  skills 

We  take  with  us 

The  Love  of  our  family 

But  no  longer  shall  we  depend  on  them 

And  we  shall  continue  to  grow 

To  learn,  to  change 

To  live  for  ourselves 

We  must  be 

What  we  can  be 

And  do 

What  we  can  do 

For  we  have  formed 

Our  own  goals  and  expectations 

It  is  as  a  rebirth 

Mary  E.  Custard 


Welcome  to  the  Land  of  the  DRUM:  A  land  which  is  plentiful,  jammed  with 
unique  thought,  and  totally  for  real.  Within  this  issue  you  shall  find  the  good 
works  of  brothers  and  sisters  who  are  interested  in  sharing  with  you  the  very 
finest  in  literary  thought  and  artful  images. 

This  issue  of  DRUM  represents  the  collective  efforts  of  individuals  who  have 
come  together  in  a  3  credit  course  to  explore  the  possibilities  of  developing  a 
magazine  which  can  best  be  described  as  an  "informational  art  form." 

The  20  young  adults  comprising  the  DRUM  staff  have  worked  hard  and  with 
specialization  and  cooperation  have  proven  again  that  undergraduate  students 
can  move  together  to  produce  works  of  great  quality  and  lasting  value. 

Some  of  the  thoughts  within  these  pages  echo  the  spirit  of  our  dear  sister  Jill 
Dickenson  who  is  recuperating  from  an  "accident"  which  is  yet  to  be  fully  ex- 
plained. The  staff  and  I  felt  inspired  to  be  certain  that  this  magazine  reflects 
what  Jill  detested;  mediocrity.  She,  as  well  as  we,  believe  that  DRUM  shall 
always  be  an  affront  to  mediocrity. 

Therefore,  I  invite  you  to  sit  back  and  share  with  me  the  good  works  of  a 
group  of  talented  students  who  have  made  mo  extremely  appreciative  of  the 
beauty  of  our  next  generation.  They  have  once  again  convinced  me  that  Lhey 
too  will  struggle  for  answers  and  solutions  to  problems  which  beset  all  op- 
pressed people.  This  "informational  art  form"  depicts  an  artistic 
strategy — our  hope  is  that  you  develop  yours  and  carry  the  spirit  on. 


ur  Best, To  You 


Nelson  Stevens 
Associate  Professor  of  Art 
W.E.B.  DuBois  Department  of 

African  American  Studies 
Co-ordinator  of  DRUM  Magazine  1977-78 
University  of  Massachusetts/Amherst 


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EDITOR'S  NOTE 3 

AESTHETICS: 

Larry  Neal 10 

CULTURE: 

FESTAC  '77  Nelson  Stevens 71 

DANCE: 

Eno 26 

DESIGN: 

Femi  Richards 12 

DRUM: 

a  self-portrait 5 

CCEBS  1978  Graduates 50 

FICTION: 

Sunni 6 

MUSIC: 

Oscar  Peterson 15 

Vea  Williams 76 

Tribute  to  Duke  Ellington 77 

Chano  Pozo 81 

Marion  Brown 83 

POETRY: 

Sonia  Sanchez 90 

Prison  Poems 55 

POLITICS: 

Carol  Garter 8 

Liz  Young-Kenny  Ghin 93 

SCULPTURE: 

Valerie  Maynard 18 


4     Drum 


DRUM 


LU 
< 


by  Carl  Yates 

During  the  Sixties,  a  second 
Reconstruction  was  taking  place, 
that  burned  across  this  land,  laying 
claim  to  the  streets  that  are  ours. 
From  inside  these  revolutionary 
paces,  came  the  need  for  documen- 
ting the  historic  occurrences  of 
that  time,  the  ideas,  the  thoughts, 
the  heroes,  the  validation  of 
ourselves  and  our  cultural 
heritage. 

In  the  latter  part  of  those  times, 
an  event  related  to  what  was  hap- 
pening nationwide,  took  place  here 
at  the  University  of  Massachusetts. 
That  event,  the  formation  of  Drum, 
Black  Literary  Experience,  a 
magazine  founded  in  1969  by  Robin 
Chandler  Smith. 

Since  its  inception.  Drum  has 
held  a  very  high  standard  of  quality 
and  stuck  close  to  its  purpose  as 
stated  in  Article  1  of  its  Constitu- 
tion— 

"To  disseminate  information  of  a 
political,  literary,  social  and 
cultural  nature  to  the  black  com- 
munity at  large;  to  provide  a  con- 
structive sounding  board  and 
platform  for  black  students 
through  which  they  may  express 
their  creative  abilities  and  to 
educate  the  white  community  as 
to   the   intent   and   feelings   of 


black    and    minority    peoples 
everywhere." 

Fiction,  book,  film  and  album 
reviews,  poetry,  art  and  interviews 
are  some  of  the  features  of  this 
twice-a-year  publication  (which  is 
on  demand  by  major  colleges  and 
universities  nationwide.]  Exposes 
as  to  the  dehumanizing  conditions 
in  state  prisons  (universities?),  in- 
formation leading  to  the  increased 
awareness  of  the  struggles  of  black 
people  worldwide,  as  well  as  here 
in  the  Pioneer  Valley.  Dedications 
to  the  children,  our  heroes  and 
heroines  (defined  as  our  mothers 
and  fathers,  Malcolm,  Martin, 
Angela]  and  countless  others 
who've  fought  to  open  doors  for  us 
to  be  where  we  are,  now.  Inter- 
views with  Professors  who  are  try- 
ing to  do  the  same,  educate  us,  the 
inheritors  of  the  future,  to  our  roles 
in  yesterday's  and  tomorrow's 
history. 

Drum  is  a  revolutionary  concept, 
born  of  a  revolutionary  time,  a  con- 
cept light  years  ahead  of  itself,  and 
still  moving.  Historically,  the  driun 
has  been  a  deliverer  of  messages,  a 
communicator  of  Spirit/Life  force 
rhythm.  Presently  Drimi  magazine 
maintains  those  ideals,  continuing 
to  communicate  and  deliver  word 
and  truths. 


Drum     5 


SUNNI 


by  Jenee  Gaskin 


Back  on  the  street  when  I  was  a 
real  young  girl  there  used  to  be  this 
brother  named  Sunni,  what  lived 
in  the  apartment  next  door  to  Ida 
Thomas.  Nobody  really  knew 
whose  apartment  it  was,  nobody 
really  cared,  'cept  on  week  nights 
when  they  kept  up  too  much  noise. 
On  those  nights  when  folks  had  to 
make  it  to  work  in  the  morning,  and 
us  kids  had  to  go  to  school,  Ida  said 
them  was  the  nights  Sunni  played 
best.  He'd  start  off  on  his  horn  real 
slow  and  kinda  quiet  like,  and 
somebody  would  hum  and  sing. 
Then  one  of  Sunni's  friends,  the  one 
what  played  the  conga  drums, 
would  knock  a  beat.  Ida  said  it 
would  get  loud  and  fast  and  the 
whole  building  would  shake  and 
rumble.  By  that  time  I  could  hear 
the  music  way  down  on  Jersey 
Street.  Up  on  the  hill  Sunni  would 
blow  and  blow,  and  the  congas 
would  beat  and  beat  as  if  they 
meant  to  wake  the  dead.  Ida  told 
me  them  was  good  nights  for  her, 
and  I  know  what  she  mean.  Simni 
had  a  way  with  that  horn,  it  would 
be  like  he  was  talkin'  to  us.  The 
rhythms  made  me  want  to  raise 
myself  up  outa  that  bed  and  dance 
and  dance.  Most  times  I  did,  but 
real  quiet,  cause  if  Mama  or  Cissy 
caught  me  I'd  get  beat. 

Simimer  times  on  the  street  was 
the  best  times  for  me.  Siunmer 
nights  and  Sunni,  and  'course  all 
his  crazy  friends.  Me  and  Ida  could 
stay  out  as  late  as  we  wanted,  I'd 
always  go  up  on  the  hill  to  Ida's 
stoop,  seems  like  that  was  where 
all  the  fim  was.  Big  fun!  We'd  play 
hot  beans  and  butter  with  Fred  and 
Tony,  and  when  they  got  us  too 
hard  with  the  belt  we'd  holler  for 
Sunni.  Sunni  would  stand  there  not 
sayin'  a  word.  He  was  tall,  real  tall. 
He  had  black,  black,  blue  black 
skin,  what  shined  in  the  dark;  and 
black  eyes  what  shined  all  the  time 
even  when  he  was  sad.  Sunni 
would  look  right  through  Fred  and 
Tony  and  move  his  head  from  side 
to  side  so  slowly  slow.  He  looked 
somethin'  like  a  lion  all  that  bushy 


hair  standin'  way  out.  Sometimes 
Sunni  would  cop  a  squat  on  the 
stoop  or  lean  up  on  the  railings,  and 
stretch  his  long  arms.  That's  when 
he  looked  like  a  tree  to  me.  He'd  br- 
ing his  head  up  and  down,  then 
point  a  finger  and  we'd  all  come 
closer,  like  we  was  possessed.  We 
knew  Sunni  was  fixin'  to  speak, 
and  I  loved  to  hear  him  talk.  He 
spoke  very  soft  and  deep  like  a  note 
he  played.  He'd  clear  his  throat 
and  think  for  what  seemed  like  a 
real  long  time,  then  he'd  smile,  and 
maybe  even  laugh  a  little. 

"Fred,  Tony,  these  are  your 
sisters.  You  mustn't  be  rough  with 
them  but  you  must  be  gentle.  Do  you 
know  what  I  mean?"  Fred  and 
Tony  would  nod  yes,  but  I  knew 
that  they  didn't  know  what  he 
meant,  cause  I  didn't  know  what  he 
meant.  I  was  never  too  sure  what 
Sunni  was  talkin'  about,  especially 
when  he  called  us  sweet  ju-ju  fruit. 
But  I  knew  it  was  deep  cause  he 
said  it  sweet,  and  'cides  Cissy  said 
Siumi  was  DEEP. 

Simni  would  pull  us  closer  with 
his  eyes  and  rap  a  long  time  to  us 
about  Africa,  what  he  said  was  the 
Motherland.  He'd  tell  us  we  was  all 
special,  and  that  we  came  from 
kings  and  queens.  And  when  Sunni 
told  us  our  skins  was  beautiful, 
he'd  look  right  at  me.  Ida  would  get 
mad  with  me  cause  her  skin  was 
not  as  Black  as  mine,  and  she  knew 
Sunni  liked  BLACK  skin. 

Those  were  good  times  on  the 
street,  Ida,  Sunni,  and  all  the  folks. 
Talk  of  the  cosmos,  spirits,  revela- 
tions and  whatnot.  Most  of  the  stuff 
I  didn't  know  nothin'  about.  I  just 
knew  that  when  Cissy  said  Sunni 
was  a  beautiful  brother,  he  was 
just  that.  She  and  her  friends  used 
to  call  Sunni  the  'Prophet'.  I  knew 
'bout  prophets  from  Sunday  school, 
and  when  they  said  he  was  a  star,  I 
really  did  understand  even  if  I 
didn't  know  how  to  say  I  did.  Sunni 
was  warm,  even  in  winter.  When  I 
came  up  on  him  in  the  street,  he 
gave  off  heat.  But  in  the  street 
things   change,   nothin'   stays   the 


6     Drum 


same.  After  a  while  Fred  and  Tony 
didn't  want  to  play  hot  beans 
anymore,  they  wanted  to  play  feel- 
up  behind  the  steps  or  in  dark 
alleys.  Things  changed  for  real. 
First  Cissy  and  her  friends  cut  their 
hair  real  short,  or  bushed  it  out  like 
Sunni's.  And  though  Ida  and  me 
were  gettin'  older,  the  streets  was 
too  dangerous  for  us  to  be  out  in  on 
late  summer  nights  'cause  older 
brothers  started  having  rimibles 
with  the  police. 

There  was  a  change  in  Sunni  too. 
I  could  hear  his  rhythms  from  the 
hill,  they  were  not  the  same.  The 
notes  was  hard  and  short  like  the 
shots  that  killed  little  Rickey.  His 
music  made  me  want  to  cry.  I  didn't 
want  to  dance  no  more  to  Sunni's 
music.  Sunni,  the  Star,  our  Prophet 
was  changin'.  There  was  a  far 
away  look  in  his  eyes — and  fire. 
Yeah,  that's  where  I  first  saw  the 
fire,  in  his  eyes. 

Fire  burned  on  the  street  from 
sunset  to  dawn.  Mama  and  them 
wouldn't  let  me  go  out,  so  I  watched 
from  the  big  window  in  the  front 
room.  Everybody  was  outside. 
Young  boys  was  rimnin'  and  car- 
ryin'  loot  from  the  stores  they 
busted  in.  Old  men  sat  on  the  stoop 
and  old  ladies  hung  out  of  the  win- 
dows watchful  of  the  happenings. 
Grown-folks  was  cussin'  and 
fightin',  babies  was  cryin'  and 
mothers  was  screamin'  to  they  kids 
to  get  out  of  harms  way.  The  street 
was  full.  Storefront  windows  was 
broke  into  and  left  open  to  anybody 
what  passed  by.  Watkins  the  stink- 
mouth  wino  what  lived  upstairs 
took  a  brick  to  the  window  of 
Charlie's  Liquors.  A  piece  of  glass 
caught  him  in  the  eye  and  blood 
poured  down  his  face.  He  hollered 
and  hollered,  but  folks  was  too 
busy  gettin'  into  Charlie's  to  pay 
him  no  mind.  His  cryin'  made  me 
hurt.  The  alarm  from  Charlie's 
rang  in  my  ears  and  Watkins  fell  in- 
to the  street  screaming.  I  started  to 
cry  and  Mama  yelled  to  Cissy  to  get 
me  from  the  window.  Cissy  came 
for  me,  but  I  cried  more  and  more. 
Seems  there  was  a  time  when 
nothin'  on  the  street  would  make 
me  cry,  but  that  was  changed. 
Mama  got  mad  with  Cissy  for  let- 
ting me  be  in  the  window  so  long. 
She  held  me  in  her  arms  real  tight 
and  told  me  to  hush.  My  tears  final- 
ly stopped,  but  my  insides  felt  real 


bad.  Mama  said  maybe  I  was  com- 
ing down  with  somethin'  and  put 
me  to  bed.  I  didn't  sleep  much 
though  I  kept  thinkin'  about 
Watkins  and  how  one  time  he  gave 
me  a  quarter  for  some  candy. 

Days  before  the  fire  me  and  Ida 
raced  home  from  school.  We  loved 
to  rim  in  the  street,  seems  like  we 
was  movin'  with  everybody  else 
when  we  ran.  And  we  ran  fast. 
Zoom!  We  could  fly,  and  I'm  not 
afraid  of  flyin',  cause  you  can  see 
everything.  Like  one  time  I  looked 
up  to  this  building  on  Blossom 
Street,  and  saw  this  lady  jump  from 
the  top  floor.  We  kept  runnin' 
though — didn't  stop.  Funny  how  we 
was  in  another  world  when  we  was 
flyin'. 

We  heard  lots  of  things  when  we 
was  flyin',  like  music,  plenty  of 
music.  Gaby's  Dew  Dale  Record 
Shop  always  had  plenty  of  the  hits 
blowin'.  And  the  Zebra  Lounge  was 
jumpin'  any  time  of  the  day  or 
night.  Sometimes  me  and  Ida 
played  like  we  was  in  the  movies — 
cause  the  music  pushed  our  flight, 
and  I  became  Wonder  Woman, 
leaping  and  jumping  over  all 
earthly  things.  I  COULD  FLY!!! 

There  were  voices  in  the  street, 
and  we  heard  words  in  our  flight 
like: 

Nigger  you  better  move!  BITCH! ! 
Hit  that  ball  Willie!  Ah  Shit! 
Hey  sweet  Mama!!! 
There  were  smells  in  the  street. 
Ribs,  bar-b-q  chicken,  liqour,  pee 
and  gasoline.  Sometmes  the  smells 
from  the  garbage  made  my  stomach 
hurt,  but  I  paid  it  no  mind.  It  was 
only  that  one  time  that  I  stepped  in 
dog  mess  that  I  got  sick. 

Cissy  met  us  at  the  corner  like 
she  always  do  and  fussed  with  us. 
She  said  we  was  goin'  to  get  our 
poor  bodies  killed  one  day  from  a 
speedin'  car,  cause  we  didn't 
watch  before  we  took  off  across  the 
street.  Cissy  was  always  preachin' 
to  us  about  one  thing  or  another. 
Like  the  time  I  put  on  some  ankle 
socks  in  the  dead  of  winter.  When 
she  saw  me  at  the  corner  she 
fussed  and  fussed.  She  said  we 
don't  be  about  these  Nordic 
temperatures,  and  I  had  better 
never  go  out  with  my  legs  un- 
covered again.  She  fussed  so  much 
I  started  cryin'  and  made  her  pro- 
mise not  to  tell  Mama.  Even  though 
Cissy  got  mad  with  me  I  liked  her. 


She  smiled  alot  and  took  me  places, 
and  she  never  laughed  at  me  when 
Mama  gave  me  a  whippin'. 

We  walked  to  Ida's  house.  There 
wasn't  much  happening.  Cissy 
went  next  door  to  talk  to  Rocky,  so 
Ida  and  me  decided  to  play  hang- 
out. Ida  Uved  on  the  10th  floor,  so  I 
wasn't  scared  like  when  we  played 
with  Tony  what  lived  on  the  19th 
floor.  We'd  all  take  turns  to  see 
who  could  hang  out  the  window  the 
farthest.  I  didn't  like  it  much  cause 
Ida  always  could  hang  farther  than 
me. 

Though  most  folks  was  back  to 
dancin'  in  the  streets,  the  memory 
of  the  fire  stayed  with  us.  I  could 
hear  voices  in  the  night — Mama, 
Cissy,  Jimmie,  and  his  daddy,  what 
live  next  door.  They  all  whispered 
in  the  night,  and  Simni's  horn 
wailed  a  blues  loud  and  pitiful, 
cryin' — it's  not  over — not 
over — not  over. 

Late,  long  after  Mama  had  put 
me  to  bed,  Jimmie' s  daddy,  what 
name  is  Brown  came  to  the  house.  I 
could  hear  Brown's  big  feet  slap 
the  floor  as  he  walked  into  the  kit- 
chen. Brown  was  a  mighty  man.  He 
was  tall  and  strong.  He  said  he  got 
big  from  wrestling.  Brown  had 
smooth  yellow  skin  and  a  gold  tooth 
right  up  front,  what  winked  at  me 
when  he  smiled.  He  be  away  most 
times  cause  he  works  on  a  ship;  so 
Cissy  and  Mama  tell  him  all  the 
happenings  he  missed  when  he 
comes  home.  The  echo  of  Sunni's 
horn  almost  made  me  forget  to 
listen  after  Mama  and  them,  but 
the  harder  I  tried  to  stay  awake  the 
farther  I  drifted  into  sleep. 

I  dreamed.  I  dreamed  I  was  in  a 
forest.  The  trees  was  brown  and 
tall,  and  they  leaves  was  black  and 
woolly  like  Sunni's  hair.  There  was 
a  road  in  the  forest,  and  I  walked 
on  it  taking  my  steps  real  slow.  I 
walked  a  long  time  until  the  trees 
were  behind  me.  Then  I  heard  the 
notes  from  Sunni's  horn.  I  turned 
around  and  the  trees  was  Sunni. 
There  was  about  fifty  Sunni's 
following  me  playing  they  horns. 
They  took  big  steps  and  the  notes 
came  at  me  like  hail  stones.  I  got 
scared  and  ran,  but  they  came 
faster — the  notes,  the  trees,  was 
quick  and  sharp.  I  ran  on  the  road 
and  within  a  blink  I  was  runnin'  on 
the  street.  I  flew,  this  time  for  real. 
Continued  on  page  24 


Drum     7 


AS  VIEWED  BY 
CAROL  CARTER 


Interview  with  Dr.  Carol  Carter, 
Associate  Director  of  the  Commit- 
tee of  the  Collegiate  Education  of 
Black  Students,  University  of  Mas- 
sachusetts/Amherst,  Massachu- 
setts 


by  Sherwin  W.  Moyston 


Background: 

Carter  was  born  in  Elyria,  Ohio, 
but  was  reared  in  Canton,  Ohio. 
She  was  educated  in  the  Canton 
Public  Schools  and  went  to 
undergraduate  school  at  Central 
State  College  in  Wilberforce,  Ohio. 
She  taught  for  four  years  in  Canton 
and  two  years  in  Gary,  Indiana. 
While  in  Indiana,  she  earned  her 
Masters  from  Indiana  State  Univer- 
sity, and  in  1968,  she  enrolled  at 
the  University  of  Massachusetts/ 
Amherst  and  received  her  Doc- 
torate in  1971.  Her  educational 
training  has  been  in  the  areas  of 
teacher  education,  evaluation,  and 
supervision. 

Q.  Would  you  please  define  "sex- 
ism" as  you  perceive  it? 

A.  Sexism  is  discrimination  based 
on  sex.  It  is  usually  practiced  by 
men  against  women.  Take  a  look  at 
history  and  you  can  see  who  gets 
the  notoriety,  or  for  that  matter, 
note  the  way  the  word  is  spelled. 
History,  not  HERstory! 

Q.  What  is  the  difference  between 
sexism  and  racism? 

A.  Racism  is  used  to  define,  op- 
press, and  exploit  people  of  color 
(non-white  people)  of  the  world. 
Sexism,  like  racism,  implies  a  kind 
of  superiority  of  one  group  over/ 
another  group.  If  one  believes  in 
the  tenets  of  racism  and  sexism, 
then  one  behaves  according  to 
what  is  expected  of  that  group. 
Some  aspects  of  sexism  I  accept 
because  I  believe  in  sexual  role 


clarification  as  an  integral  part  of 
the  natural  order  of  things.  How- 
ever, I  do  not  believe  that  sex 
should  be  used  as  the  determinant 
which  restricts  abilities,  oppor- 
tunities, and  capabilities  for 
anyone.  Neither  do  I  believe  or  ac- 
cept that  there  is  any  causal  rela- 
tionship between  one's  sex  and 
one's  mental  capabilities.  Like 
wise,  I  neither  believe  or  accept 
that  there  is  any  causal  relation- 
ship between  the  color  of  one's  skin 
and  one's  mental  abilities.  If  some 
equity  is  provided  to  individuals,  I 
believe  that  educational,  cultural, 
economic,  and  political  differences 
contribute  far  more  to  the  develop- 
ment of  one's  potential  than  any 
other  factor,  not  race  or  sex. 

Q.  When  did  you  first  become 
aware  of  the  effects  of  sexism? 

A.  I  think  that  I  became  aware  of 
sexism  as  a  young  girl.  I  am  the 
eldest  of  five  children  and  part  of 
my  responsibility  was  to  take  care 
of  my  siblings  in  my  mother's 
absence.  I  had  to  do  certain  things 
my  brothers  did  not  have  to  do,  and 
when  I  questioned  my  mother,  she 
would  tell  me  I  had  to  do  those 
things  because  I  was  a  girl  and  the 
oldest.  It  did  not  make  sense  to  me 
then,  or  now.  As  time  progressed,  I 
resented  it  but  the  practice  was  a 
part  of  my  family  and  I  had  to  do 
what  was  expected  then. 

Q.  Is  sexism  an  oppressor? 

A.  Yes,  it  is.  Sexism  is  oppressive  to 
both  males  and  females.  Sexual 
distinctions  are  made  between 
males  and  females  from  the  time 
we  are  children  through  adulthood. 
Someone  establishes  what  the  rules 
are  and  others  are  supposed  to 
abide  by  them.  In  abiding  by  them, 
if  one  chooses  to  break  from  the 
traditional  mode,  it  is  very  difficult 
for  the  individual.  "Big  boys  don't 
cry";  "Come  on,  be  a  big  man"; 
"What  are  JittJe  girJs  made  of?" 


Photograph  by  Edward  Cohen 


"Sugar  and  spice  and  everything 
nice".  "What  are  little  boys  made 
of?"  "Snips,  snaiJs  and  puppy  dog 
taiJs".  All  those  kinds  of  sayings 
suggest  inherent  strengths  and 
weaknesses  for  each  group. 

Q.  If  sexism  is  an  oppressor,  then 
how  does  that  affect  Black  people 
in  our  struggle? 

A.  Well,  sexism  is  another  kind  of 
ploy  that  has  been  used  to  destroy 
whatever  unity  that  exists  among 
black  people.  Our  history  is  one 
based  on  economic  exploitation. 
We  men  and  women  were  brought 
here  as  indentured  servants  and 


slaves  to  work  according  to  the 
needs  of  others.  If  we  tried  to  work 
together,  one  of  the  luiique  ways  to 
neutralize  us  was  to  pit  us  against 
each  other  with  various  tactics.  I 
think  the  oppression  to  us  as  a 
"People"  is  the  issue.  While  I  as  a 
female  am  oppressed,  I  am  also  op- 
pressed because  I  am  Black.  I  think 
it  is  an  oppressive  situation  for  my 
brothers,  too.  Because  they  are 
male,  they  suffer  from  another  kind 
of  oppression,  and  it  is  exacer- 
bated by  race.  For  Black  people, 
the  two  are  inextricably  bound 
together,  and  we  are  mutually  af- 
fected. Our  resources  are  too 
limited  to  argue  whether  or  not  a 


man  or  a  woman  initiates  the  ef- 
fort. We  have  to  continually  keep 
our  eyes  on  the  bigger  issue,  which 
is  the  effects  of  capitalistic  oppres- 
sion on  our  people. 

Q.  What  steps  do  you  think  can  be 
taken  to  stop  sexism  with  children 
and  families  in  this  society? 

A.  I  think  that  if  we  want  to  start  to 
combat  sexism,  we  have  to  begin  to 
teach  our  children  that  there  are 
sexual  differences,  but  emphasize 
that  in  some  areas  individuals  are 
going  to  have  more  strengths,  and 
more  weaknesses,  more  abilities 
and  limitations;  but  emphasize 
strongly  that  those  distinctions 
have  nothing  to  do  with  the  fact 
that  one  is  male  or  female.  The 
most  important  issue  is  that  the  op- 
portunity be  afforded  for  one  to  ac- 
tualize her/his  potential. 

Q.  What  help  is  it  to  have  role 
models? 

A.  Role  models  are  vital.  When  I 
was  an  umdergraduate  student,  the 
first  black  woman  history  teacher  I 
had  was  Wilhelmena  Simpson 
Robinson.  She  turned  me  on  to 
history  in  a  way  that  I  had  never 
been  exposed  to  and  I  immediately 
changed  my  major  to  work  with 
her.  She  encouraged  me  to  think,  to 
question  and  to  analyze.  She  ap- 
parently saw  some  potential  in  me 
and  assisted  to  develop  it.  I  will 
never  forget  her.  I  never  got  that 
kind  of  encouragement  from  my 
male  teachers.  I  think  that  role 
modeling  is  terribly  important.  One 
has  to  see  some  real  examples  of 
others  actively  engaged  in  various 
situations  in  order  to  believe  it  can 
be  done. 

Q.  How  did  sexism  affect  you  in 
your  career? 

A.  I  am  fully  cognizant  of  the 
restraints  of  sexism.  There  are  men 
who  continually  challenge 
whatever  I  say  in  professional 
meetings  or  who  do  not  believe  that 
I  am  knowledgeable  or  capable  of 
doing  some  things.  Sexism  can  be  a 
problem,  but  what  I  do  to  combat  it 
is  to  keep  going  and  doing  what  I 
have  to  do.  The  residual  effects  of 
sexism  have  made  me  far  more 
determined  than  ever  to  do 
whatever  is  necessary  to  ac- 
complish my  established  goals. 


Drum     9 


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Poet,  essayist  and  playwright 
Larry  Neal  is  the  author  of  Black 
Fire,  Hoo  doo  Hollerin'  Bebop 
Ghosts,  and  Black  Boogaloo.  Neal 
has  established  throughout  his 
writings  the  notion  of  a  Black 
Aesthetic,  just  as  there  exist 
cultural  notions  among  other  ethnic 
and  racial  groups  of  the  world.  An 
expression  of  his  notion  appeared 
to  be  appropriate  for  inclusion  in 
this  issue  of  Drirni,  which  is 
devoted  to  exploring  the  Black 
cultural  concepts.  Interviewer 
DiRocco  became  acquainted  with 
Neal  during  an  internship  at  D.C. 
Arts,  a  program  sponsored  by  the 
D.C.  Commission  on  Arts  and 
Humanities,  of  which  Neal  is  direc- 
tor. He  was  the  first  non-career  ad- 
ministrator to  be  appointed  to  the 
post,  in  1976. 


Let  me  give  you  an  example.  I 
was  talking  to  Max  Roach.  Max 
was  down  here  last  week.  We  did  a 
show  with  A.B.  Spellman.  I  was  on 
the  show;  Max  did  a  monster  inter- 
view. He  told  this  one  story.  He  said 
he  knew  very  early  the  difference 
between  the  things  that  he  needed, 
and  the  things  that  would  be  re- 
quired for  conservatory  training. 
So  he  went  to  the  conservatory.  At 
first  he  enrolled  in  a  course  on  his 
instrument,  percussion.  This  is 
after  he  had  been  playing  with 
Byrd  and  all  them.  He's  taking  this 
course  to  get  this  thing  growing, 
theory  courses.  He  took  a  course  in 
percussion  and  he  said,  "I  realized 
from  the  way  this  guy  was  telling 
me  to  hold  my  sticks  that  I  wouldn't 
be  able  to  play  the  music  that  I  had 
been  playing.  I  wouldn't  be  able  to 


A  VIEW  BY 
LARRY  NEAL 

written  by  Lisa  DiRocco 


LD.  In  many  of  your  past  essays  you 
were  trying  to  develop  the  idea  of  a 
Black  Aesthetic.  Could  you  clarify 
that  concept? 

LN.  What  I  was  simply  saying  is 
that  there  is  a  Black  Aesthetic;  we 
were  trying  to  bring  awareness  of 
that  from  a  theoretical  point  of 
view,  so  that  scholars  would  study 
that  phenomenon  and  how  it  works 
in  Afro-American  art.  Or  how  it 
works  in  American  art.  American 
art  utilizes  aspects  of  Black 
Aesthetic  forms — by  that  I  mean 
blues,  black  rhythmic  patterns — all 
those  things  most  associated  with 
African  peoples  in  this  country. 
The  ways  of  creating  out  of  a 
cultural  ethos  or  matrix. 

When  we  were  talking  about  the 
Black  Aesthetic,  and  we  still  talk 
about  it,  we  are  talking  about  a 
vocabulary — the  ingredients  that 
constitute  a  way  of  proceeding 
creatively.  A  perception  of  things, 
like  a  way  of  playing  the  blues.  I 
mean,  there  is  a  way  to  play  the 
blues. 


play  it  if  I  held  my  sticks  that  way." 
So  we  said,  "What  did  you  do?" 
And  he  said,  "I  transferred  to  com- 
position." 

It's  a  craft  procedure — the 
ideological  concept  behind  the 
Black  Aesthetic  is  for  the  Black 
scholars  to  be  aware  of  that 
phenomenon  as  an  existing 
phenomenon  in  American  art  and 
in  Afro-American  art.  To  not  pre- 
tend that  all  art  is  the  same.  Afro- 
American  music  does  soimd  dif- 
ferent from  hillbilly  music;  the 
Afro-American  component  in 
Western  music  is  different  from 
other  kinds  of  components  in 
Western  music. 

The  kind  of  thing  that  Dvorak 
was  hearing  in  Afro-American 
spirituals  created  certain  sounds 
in  the  Dvorak  symphony.  Gershwin 
was  hearing  a  certain  kind  of  thing 
in  "Rhapsody  in  Blue".  Gershwin, 
for  example,  was  after  a  certain 
kind  of  thing  when  he  had  black 
people  sing  "Porgy  and  Bess".  He 
was  looking  for  a  certain  kind  of  in- 
gredient associated  with  Black  peo- 


10     Drum 


pie,  a  certain  modality,  so  to  speak. 
That's  what  we're  trying  to  get  at. 

On  the  ideological  plane  is  the 
assertion  that  there  are  various 
ways  of  perceiving  the  dynamics  of 
art,  and  that  these  must  be 
acknowledged.  The  Black  Aesthetic 
position  forces  all  people  that  ap- 
proach art  to  approach  it  with  the 
respect  that  there  is  a  history,  a  set 
of  procedures  within  that  form  that 
should  not  be  taken  for  granted. 

Other  people  have  called  this 
Black  Aesthetic  other  things.  Ralph 
Ellison  refers  to  the  Blues  Feeling. 
Albert  Murray  talks  about  an  Afro- 
American  Blues  Idiom  Aesthetic. 
Ishmael  Reed  talks  about 
Hoodooism.  All  of  these  are  grids, 
or  forms  of  definitions,  if  you  will, 
to  describe  this  phenomenon  of  dif- 
ference and  activity,  and  the 
nature  of  that  difference  and  ac- 
tivity. 

That  does  not  mean  that  the 
"Black  Aesthetic"  exists  in  distinc- 
tion of  relationships  to  other  pro- 
cedures. Getting  back  to  the  Max 
Roach  conversation,  he  was  saying 
that  in  the  music  that  he  wanted  to 
play,  that  particular  craft  pro- 
cedure didn't  work;  which  would 
mean,  therefore,  if  you  were  going 
to  teach  someone  to  play  Max's 
music,  to  play  that  way,  then  ob- 
viously there's  a  methodology. 

What  we're  trying  to  do  is  get  the 
academic  world,  the  critics,  the 
scholars,  and  the  artists 
themselves  to  recognize  these 
elements — consciously  recognize 
them — rather  than  say  they  are  xm- 
conscious.  So  we  proceed  to 
develop  books,  scholarship  about 
our  music.  We  should  be  clear  on 
the  methodology,  the  aesthetic 
methodology  involved  in  the  crea- 
tion of,  say.  Black  dance.  Black 
song.  Black  speech.  So,  what  are 
the  references — if  you're  trying  to 
get  at  your  cultural  identity,  the 
Black  Aesthetic  mode  forces  you  to 
look  at  Black  culture  in  terms  of  the 
specific  uses  of  these  items  for  art. 

For  example,  the  folktale,  the 
spiritual,  music,  sermons,  or 
whatever  patterns  one  can  think  of: 
aesthetic  patterns  become  objects 
to  be  used  and  be  aware  of.  So  that 
if  you're  studying  writing, 
studying  drama,  studying  choreo- 
graphy— you're  working  with  these 
forms.  You  get  a  sense  of  the 
utilization  of  the  existing  aesthetic 


patterns  and  you  recognize  them, 
bring  them  out  of  the  dark  and 
bring  them  forward. 

If  you  want  to  get  at  how  Afro- 
Americans  move,  to  choreograph  a 
piece,  it  means  isolating  that  ele- 
ment in  Afro-American  culture. 
You  can't  say,  well,  they  move  like 
everyone  else,  because  it's  not 
true;  observation  tells  you  that  they 
don't.  That  difference — what  does 
it  tell  a  choreographer,  for  exam- 
ple; what  does  that  language  tell  a 
choreographer  or  a  musician. 
Since  our  culture,  as  Albert  Mur- 
ray pointed  out,  has  become  a 
"dance  de-oriented  culture";  that's 
also  an  awareness  of  a  certain  kind 
of  aesthetic  thrust.  I  call  it  black, 
but  it  could  be  Afro-American,  it 
could  be  what  Murray  calls  the 
"Blues  Idiom  Aesthetic";  I'm  not 
going  to  quibble  over  that.  The 
question  is,  we're  talking  about  a 
phenomenon,  a  construct,  a 
cultural  construct. 

LD.  Looking  at  your  earlier 
poems — I'm  thinking  of  a  volume 
called  Hoodoo  HoUerin'  Bebop 
Ghosts — many  of  the  poems  deal 
with  ghosts,  mysteries,  voodoo 
gods,  other  worlds — what  is  the 
relation  of  ghosts  to  the  Black 
Aesthetic? 

LN.  What  you're  talking  about  is 
folk  forms.  I'm  a  writer  who  is  very 
influenced  by  folk  lore.  I  was  a  stu- 
dent of  folk  lore  for  a  long  time 
when  I  was  an  undergraduate,  and 
then  in  graduate  school.  I'm  a  stu- 
dent of  folk  lore  the  same  way 
James  Joyce  is  a  student  of  folk  lore, 
or  Faulkner  is  a  student  of  folk  lore, 
or  many  other  writers  that  we 
know  have  been.  I  remember  grow- 
ing up  and  hearing  ghost  stories. 
Ghost  stories  are  fun.  I'm  trying  to 
deal  with  the  world  of  the  dead. 
The  African  world  view  is  that  the 
dead  are  not  dead.  The  aead  are 
really  all  aroimd.  So,  those  poems 
are  trying  to  be  informed  by  those 
ghosts.  The  ancestors  are  ever  pre- 
sent, because  that's  one  of  the 
functions  of  ghosts. 

I'm  not  saying  that's  the  Black 
Aesthetic — that's  my  aesthetic.  I'm 
not  saying  that  it  stands  for  the 
total  thing,  but  it  helps  get  at  the 
question  of  voice.  I  think  I'm  going 
to  do  a  novel  when  I  finish  this  play 
I'm  working  on  now.  What  I'm 
thinking  about  now,  before  I  even 


get  to  that  novel  is  the  way  narra- 
tive passages  can  be  haimting.  Do 
you  know  what  I'm  talking  about?  I 
want  to  write  passages  that  haunt. 

LD.  What  is  the  relation  of  Shine 
and  the  blues  god  to  the  Black 
Aesthetic? 

LN.  I'm  working  on  a  book  of  poems 
right  now,  called  Shine,  that  is 
about  Afro- American  folk  figures. 
You  can  read  about  the  legend  of 
Shine  in  Bruce  Campbell's  book  on 
Afro- American  folk  lore.  Shine  was 
the  only  black  man  on  the  Titanic. 
There  is  a  little  rhyme  that  goes 
with  that,  and  a  whole  set  of  urban 
narratives,  called  toasts.  What  I'm 
doing  in  that  suite-it's  going  to  be  a 
slender  book — is  working  with  all 
that  imagery:  with  shining,  glow, 
the  Sim,  Sim  people,  niggers  shine- 
all  the  permutations  of  Shine.  He  is 
also  being  reincarnated  at  various 
times. 

I've  been  working  with  reincar- 
nation a  lot,  and  in  that  series  there 
will  be  a  lot  of  reincarnation 
moments,  cyclical  moments.  The 
poem,  as  I've  always  thought  of  it 
for  myself,  begins  in  the  heart  of 
the  sim;  and  then  it  goes  through 
time,  and  various  reincarnations  of 
this  figure  called  Shine. 

The  blues  god  is  an  attempt  to 
isolate  the  blues  element  as  an 
ancestral  force,  as  the  major 
ancestral  force  of  the  Afro- 
American.  What  I  always  say 
about  the  blues  god  is  that  it  was 
the  god  that  survived  the  middle 
passage.  It's  like  an  Orisha  figure. 
Because  even  though  the  blues  may 
be  about  so-called  hard  times,  peo- 
ple generally  feel  better  after  hear- 
ing them  or  seeing  them.  They  tend 
to  be  ritually  liberating  in  that 
sense.  And  they  represent  a  par- 
ticular kind  of  poetry,  but  they  also 
represent  a  particular  kind  of 
rhythmic  impulse  like  you  get  in 
Coimt  Basic  or  Coltrane. 

If  you  go  through  Afro-American 
music,  one  of  the  things  that  make 
it  Afro-American  is  the  blues  feel- 
ing. Once  you  take  that  out,  you  got 
something  else.  And  if  a  cat  can't 
play  the  blues  you  know  he  can't 
play.  .  .  all  musicians  know  that. 
What  they're  saying  is  that  there's 
some  particular  kind  of  power 
endemic  to  the  blues. 

Albert  Murray  has  done  a  very 


Drum     11 


fascinating  book  on  the  blues;  he 
goes  into  a  great  deal  of  detail  on 
the  function  of  the  blues.  A  book 
called  Stomping  the  Blues.  It  came 
out  last  year-a  fantastic  book.  It's  a 
very  good  philosophical  basis  for 
discussing  the  blues.  The  other 
book  where  he  connects  the  blues 
with  hterary  themes  is  The  Hero 
and  the  Blues.  Murray  has  a  lot  of 
work  on  this.  Ralph  Ellison's  essays 
in  Shadow  and  Act  constitute  a  ma- 
jor set  of  material.  And  of  course 
LeRoi  Jones'  Blues  People.  These 
groups  are  all  trying  to  get  at  the 
assemblable  element  of  the  blues  in 
Afro-American  life.  The  poetic  and 
literary  and  artistic  forms.  So, 
that's  my  metaphor — the  blues  god- 
— it's  not  nobody  elses  metaphor. 
It's  mine. 

LD.  Getting  back  to  your  job  as 
director  of  the  D.C.  Commission, 
how  long  have  you  been  working 
there? 

LN.  About  a  year  and  a  half. 

LD.  What  are  your  goals  and 
primary  concerns  there? 

LN.  My  first  concern  is  to  get  the  ci- 
ty goverrmient  to  increase  its  com- 
mitment to  the  arts  in  both 
legislative  areas,  and  budget  ap- 
propriations— that's  the  major 
goal.  From  that  point  we  go  into  ex- 
panding the  program  and  the  agen- 
cy— to  expand  its  capability  and  its 
services. 

A  long  range  goal  is  to  help  the 
city  develop  an  arts  industry,  so 
that  areas  that  need  to  be  re- 
searched, for  instance,  the  film  in- 
dustry: there  should  definitely  be 
development  in  this  town  of  a  film 
industry.  Also,  some  feasibility 
work  has  to  be  done  on  the 
possibility  of  a  recording  center. 
Since  Washington,  D.C.  is  75% 
black,  it  could  probably  support  a 
small  recording  industry  to  utilize 
the  talent  that  they're  training  in 
the  various  schools.  The  talent  is 
here.  We  could  create  a  new 
economic  area  for  the  creative  ar- 
tist, for  musicians  and  for  techni- 
cians. Those  are  two  large  goals 
that  I  have. 

The  other  is,  we  want  to  open  up 
our  humanities  component  because 
the  commission  hadn't  been  utiliz- 
ing its  humanities  thrust.  We  have 
a  major  application  in  now  to  the 

Continued  on  page  13 


Photograph  by  Edward  Cohen 


DESIGN  WITH  D 


BIOGRAPHICAL  REMARKS 

Dr.  Femi  V.  Richards  is  an 
Associate  Professor  of  Afro- 
American  Studies  at  the  University 
of  Massachusetts  in  Amherst.  A 
native  of  Sierra  Leone,  Dr. 
Richards  received  his  Ph.D.  in  1970 
from  Northwestern  University.  He 
has  taught  at  Lagos  University, 
Ahmadu  Bello  University  as  well  as 
Northwestern  and  travelled  exten- 
sively throughout  Europe,  North 
America  and  Africa. 

Dr.  Richards  specializes  in 
teaching  contemporary  textile  and 
fabric  design  here  at  UMass  and  of- 
fers us  some  insight  as  to  the 
nature  of  his  art: 


Drum:  What  is  the  role  of  fabric 
design  in  a  traditional  African  soci- 
ety? 

Femi:  Some  designs  in  traditional 
African  societies  are  used  to 
manifest  or  enshrine  belief 
systems,  and  cultural  values.  The 
designs  contain  non-pictorial 
motifs  that  can  be  deciphered  by 
those  sensitive  to  their  messages. 
The  kente  cloth  of  the  Ashanti  in 
Ghana  and  the  mud  cloth  of  the 
Bamana  of  Mali  are  good  examples 
in  which  designs  are  used  as  a 
means  of  non-verbal  communica- 
tion. 

Drum:  How  long  have  you  been 
working  with  textiles  as  an  art? 


12     Drum 


Femi:  I  have  been  working  with  tex- 
tiles since  1963  when  I  was  an 
undergraduate  student  at  Ahmadu 
Bello  University  in  Zaria,  Nigeria.  I 
have  always  enjoyed  the  creative 
experiences  associated  with  textile 
designing  and  printing.  Textile 
designing  and  printing  are  an  ap- 
plied art  form.  The  printed  fabric  is 
a  lively  and  mobile  form  of  art  that 
gives  the  user  a  feeling  of  impor- 
tance and  self  confidence  or  it  pro- 
vides protection  against  the  incle- 
ment weather. 

Drum:  Colors  and  inspiration  play 
a  major  part  in  the  life  of  an  artist, 
what  inspires  you  to  design  and 
why  do  you  choose  certain  colors? 

Femi:  The  inner  need  which  exists 
in  most  designers  is  to  create 
something  new  and  exciting.  I  draw 
inspiration  from  nature  for  design- 
ing what  are  basically  my  percep- 
tual designs  even  though  the  final 
form  is  non-pictorial.  My  concep- 
tual designs  manifest  an  inner  feel- 
ing and  force  that  impels  me  to 
design  continuously.  The  designs 
produced  are  an  externalization  of 
my  imagery,  feelings  of  joy,  and 
disenchantments.  My  colors  reveal 
my  mood  from  day  to  day.  They  are 
exuberant,  bright  and  charismatic. 


tualization    of   the    design   to    be 

printed.  The  design  is  then  put  in 

repeat  divisors  of  36"  or  48"  and 

then    transferred    onto    frosted 

acetate  using  a  photo  opaque  ink  to 

create  a  positive  or  negative  film. 

The    second    stage    involves    the 

preparation  of  a  light  sensitive  8XX 

lOXX  silk  screen  by  coating  the 

fabric  of  the  screen  with  a  solution 

of    potassium    bichromate    and 

gelatin. 

Third,   expose  the  light  sensitive 

screen  and  positive  or  negative  film 

on  a  5  way  light  box. 

Fourth,    the    exposed    screen    is 

washed  out  to  reveal  the  printing 

areas. 

Finally,  the  design  on  the  screen  is 

printed  on  a  desized  fabric  using  a 

fiber    reactive    dye.    The   printed 

fabric  is  then  heat  cured  for  3  to  5 

minutes. 

Drum:  What  monetary  compensa- 
tion can  an  artist  expect  from  the 
commercial  fabric  houses? 

Femi:  Most  large  scale  commercial 
fabric  houses  buy  scores  of  designs 
from  freelance  designers  every 
year,  and  than  transfer  them  on  to 
furnishing  or  dress  fabrics  for  con- 
sumers.   The    prices    paid    for    a 


f^.FEMI  RICHARDS 


I  like  secondary  colors — shades  of 
yellow  and  red. 

Drum:  What  are  your  theories  of 
design  related  to  fabrics? 

Femi:  My  contemporary  designs 
depict  some  of  my  perceptions  of 
space  within  a  pictorial  field.  I  try 
to  make  every  space  within  the 
field  functional  and  interesting 
without  creating  a  feeling  of  horror 
vQcui.  To  create  interesting  shapes 
or  forms  within  the  pictorial  field 
so  that  little  or  no  negative  space  is 
left  in  the  field. 

Drum:  What  exactly  is  the  process 
of  designing  on  fabric. 

Femi:  The  first  stage,  is  the  concep- 


marketable  design  varies  from 
$250  to  about  $2,000  depending  on 
the  reputation  of  the  designer.  In 
lieu  of  an  outright  fee  a  designer 
may  accept  royalties  from  the  com- 
mercial houses,  calculated  on  a 
percentage  of  the  wholesale  price 
of  the  printed  fabric.  This  may 
range  from  2%  to  10%  per  yard 
price  and  if  a  million  yards  of  the 
fabric  are  sold  the  royalties  could 
be  quite  considerable.  Designs  for 
furnishing  (drapes,  carpet,  wall 
paper,  etc.)  seem  to  command  a 
higher  fee  than  designs  for  fashion 
(dresses  scarfs,  etc.)  because  fur- 
nishing fabrics  are  kept  and  used 

Continued  on  page  14 


Larry  Neal—from  page  12 

National  Endowment  for  the 
Humanities  for  a  project  I  want  to 
do  this  year — a  big  project  about 
Washington  using  the  himianities 
called,  "Visions  of  D.C."  To 
reiterate — we're  talking  about 
budget  appropriation  and 
legislative  commitment.  There  are, 
for  example,  areas  for  legislation 
on  artists  rights,  and  just  a  variety 
of  activities  needed  to  get  the  arts 
going  in  Washington,  D.C. 

LD.  What  are  some  of  the  projects 
that  the  commission  is  assisting 
right  now? 

LN.  We  are  assisting  organizations 
like  Chamber  music  groups,  20th 
Century  Consort,  Radio  Station 
Pacifica,  WPFW,  Capitol  Ballet, 
New  Playwright's  Theatre,  Miya 
Gallery.  We  also  have  a  large 
CETA  program;  this  is  the  first  time 
the  city  has  had  a  CETA  arts  pro- 
gram. 

We  also  want  to  make  sure  that 
any  funds  coming  in  from  the  Labor 
Department  that  can  go  to  the  arts 
be  earmarked  for  that.  That's  a  ma- 
jor struggle  because  they  just  now 
are  getting  used  to  the  fact  that 
arts  people  are  workers.  That's  not 
an  easy  concept  to  get  over  to  any 
society,  but  particularly  not  in 
Washington. 

LD.  Is  there  any  kind  of  tension  be- 
tween your  art  and  your  adminis- 
trative functions,  and  how  has  this 
new  administrative  function  chang- 
ed your  writing? 

LN.  This  job  helps  me,  as  a  matter 
of  fact.  The  ability  to  write,  the 
ability  to  plan,  the  ability  to 
develop  proposals — to  just  com- 
mimicate  in  general — those  skills 
are  very  useful,  particularly  in  an 
arts  program  where  you  are 
always  writing  programs.  What  I 
try  not  to  do  is  write  in 
burekucratese.  I  try  to  write  really 
good  letters,  as  careful  as  I  can.  I'm 
always  concerned  with  style,  no 
matter  what  I'm  doing.  I  know  my 
letters  are  definitely  different  in 
tone  from  a  lot  of  the  stuff  that 
comes  out  of  many  bureaucrats.  So, 
that's  something  always  to  be 
aware  of — the  importance  of  keep- 
ing the  language  fresh  and  im- 
aginative. 

The  only  problem  I  have  maybe  is 
I  have  to  discipline  myself  more  to 


Drum     13 


the  time  I'm  supposed  to  be  writing 
for  myself.  For  instance,  I'm  a  night 
writer.  I  have  a  studio  apart  from 
home  and  apart  from  the  office, 
naturally.  And  I  go  there  to  work. 
So  there's  a  definite  place  where  I 
go  to  do  the  creative  work  that  has 
to  be  done  for  me.  I  know  that  I'm 
averaging  at  least  six  hours  of 
writing  a  day.  There  are  times 
when  there  is  a  clash,  times  where 
I'm  working  on  something,  and  I 
know  I  have  to  go  to  work  in  the 
morning,  and  I  really  want  to  sleep 
late  and  get  back  on  it  again. 

LD.  Can  you  recommend  some 
books,  articles  or  periodicals  on 
culture  that  would  be  necessary  for 
someone  to  imderstand  American 
culture  a  little  better? 

LN.  Albert  Murray's  Album  of  the 
Americas  should  be  read.  All  of  his 
books  are  important.  Ralph 
Ellison's  Shadow  and  Act.  LeRoi 
Jones'  Blues  People.  Black  Culture 
and  Black  Consciousness  is  a  book 
that  just  came  out — I've  forgotten 
the  writer — it's  a  very  important 
and  formidable  book.  It's  in  the 
spirit  of  folk  culture,  all  the  stuff 
we're  talking  about.  There's  a  book 
coming  up  soon  by  Stanley  Crouch 
on  black  music  that  should  be  very 
important.  That  will  be  published 
by  Viking. 

I  think  key  novels  are,  of  course 
Invisible  Man;  Albert  Murray's 
books;  Toni  Morrison's  work;  Black 
Fire  done  in  1968  by  me  and  LeRoi 
Jones  is  very  important.  That  book 
indicates  the  major  shift  in  the 
orientation  of  yoimg  black  people; 
in  many  ways  it  really  annoimces 
the  emergence  of  another  kind  of 
generation  of  black  writers.  Of 
course,  I'm  pushing  my  own  book, 
but  it  is  important,  I  think.  Janhein- 
zi  Jahn's  Muntu  is  a  book  people 
might  want  to  take  a  look  at  again. 
Ishmael  Reed's  novels  are  impor- 
tant— almost  every  one  of  them 
utilizes  a  great  store  of  world  infor- 
mation. He  has  a  great  knowledge 
of  black  folk  culture,  particularly 
hoo  doo  and  all  that  kind  of  stuff.  I 
think  Andre  Malraux's  Voices  of 
Silence  or  Museum  Without  Walls 
are  essential.  Kenneth  Burke's 
work — particularly  Counterstate- 
ment.  I  think  that's  an  important 
critical  work,  then  maybe  Function 
of  the  Literary  Form.  Off  the  top  of 
my  head,  I  guess  that's  about  it. 


Femi  Richards — from  page  13 

much  longer-S  to  10  years-by  con- 
sumers than  dress  fabrics  which 
may  be  changed  every  six  or  nine 
months.  The  high  graduate 
unemployment  among  artists  today 
is  forcing  very  good  artists  to  seek 
work  and  training  as  freelance  tex- 
tile designers. 

Drum:  What  is  the  business  aspect 
of  textile  designing? 

Femi:  It  is  plausible  to  assiune  that 
there  are  great  potentials  in  the 
business  end  of  textile  designing. 
Everybody  wears  clothes  or  uses 
some  designed  products  for  fur- 
nishing or  dress.  The  best  and  least 
problematic  way  to  get  started  and 
hopefuUy  prosper  in  the  textile 
business  is  for  a  designer  to  print 
and  market  his/her  own  designs 
and    printed    fabric.    That    is    to 


Photograph  by  Ana  Andreu 


design,  print,  style  and  sell  the  end 
product  to  retail  stores  or  in  the 
designer's  store.  Most  successful 
designers  we  read  about  today 
started  out  this  way.  By  printing 
their  own  designs  they  can  main- 
tain complete  control  over  their  col- 
or schemes,  motifs,  and  exact 
reproduction.  In  contrast,  commer- 
cial houses  may  alter  the  designs  to 
suit  their  clientele  and  or  the 
idiosyncracies  of  the  company's 
designers. 


1 4     Drum 


OSCAR  PETERSON 


by  Cheryl  L  Crowell 


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Oscar  Peterson  was  14  when  he 
won  his  first  award  as  an  ac- 
complished pianist.  Nine  years 
later  he  was  a  featured  pianist 
with  Jazz  at  the  Philharmonic  in 
New  York's  Carnegie  Hall.  Now,  at 
52,  Peterson  is  considered  the 
greatest  pianist  in  jazz  history. 

Born  Oscar  Emmanuel  Peterson 
in  Montreal,  Quebec,  Canada,  he 
began  his  musical  career  as  a 
trumpet  player.  A  bout  with  tuber- 
culosis forced  him  to  direct  his 
talent  toward  the  piano,  an  instru- 
ment with  which  he  had  some 
familiarity — three  siblings  were 
aspiring  pianists.  His  mastery  of 
those  88  keys  has  been  rewarded 
many  times  as  he  has  been 
presented  with  a  Grammy,  at  least 
ten  of  the  Playboy  "Musicians' 
Musicians"  Awards  and  Downbeat 
magazine's  Best  Piano  Player 
award,  annually  in  1950-55  and 
1959-67. 

Peterson  gained  prominence  in 
the  United  States  under  the 
management  of  Norman  Granz, 
who  initiated  Peterson's  appear- 
ance with  the  Philharmonic  group 
in  1949.  Since  then,  he  has  made 
nimierous  recordings  with  jazz 
greats  like  Billie  Holiday,  Lester 
Young,  EUa  Fitzgerald  (also  man- 
aged by  Granz),  and  Louis  Arm- 
strong, to  name  a  few.  Some  of  his 
own  compositions  are  Canadian 
Suite,  Hallelujah  Time,  and  Hymn 
to  Freedom.  In  addition  to  recor- 
ding, Peterson  began  concert  tour- 
ing, and  continues  to  do  so  in  this 
coimtry  and  Europe  almost  annual- 
ly. His  audiences  respond  royally. 
"Oh — I  don't  know  what  to  say.  It  is 
overwhelming.  The  piano  is  like  an 
extension  of  his  own  physical  be- 
ing. I'm  amazed  at  the  speed  of  his 
creativity,"  remarked  a  close 
friend  and  admirer.  Peterson,  a 
staimch  believer  in  the  art  of  im- 
provisation, does  not  rehearse 
prior  to  his  performances. 

Not  satisfied  with  only  express- 


ing his  own  creativity,  Peterson  has 
helped  expose  other  jazz  talents.  In 
1974  he  had  a  television  series  in 
Canada  entitled  Oscar  Peterson 
Presents.  The  show,  which 
spotlighted  leading  jazzmen  and 
singers,  was  awarded  a  plaque  at 
the  17th  International  Film  and  TV 
Festival  in  New  York.  The  Ad- 
vanced School  of  Contemporary 
Music,  founded  by  Peterson  in 
1960,  demonstrates  yet  another 
aspect  of  his  encouragement  and 
responsiveness  to  young  jazz  musi- 
cians. Peterson's  latest  project,  a 
book  on  contemporary  jazz  piano, 
will  be  released  soon  and  promises 
to  be  an  instructive  and  exciting 
experience  for  up-and-coming  jazz 
talents. 

Recently,  Peterson  gave  a  solo 
performance  at  the  University  of 
Massachusetts.  He  talked  vdth  me 
fo^  DRUM  following  that  recital. 


— In  your  marvelous  master  class 
today  a  student  made  the  state- 
ment that  jazz  and  rock  are  fusing. 
You  felt  that  they  would  never 
fuse,  the  same  as  jazz  and  classical 
have  never  fused.  Considering 
everything  that  has  happened,  like 
Ellington  mixing  his  jazz  with  the 
music  in  the  classical  vein,  what  is 
your  definition  of  jazz  as  opposed 
to  jazz  rock?  jazz  classical? 
Jazz  is  a  music  that  is  based  on  con- 
cepts that  have  been  set  out  by  peo- 
ple like  Ellington,  Fats  Waller, 
Count  Basie,  Dizzy  Gillespie,  Lester 
Young.  And  it  is  basically  instant 
composition.  It  is  improvisation. 
Jazz  has  to  retain  its  rhythmic  con- 
tent, its  harmonic  movement.  That 
has  been  set  forth  before  us.  To 
fuse  it  with  anything  else  would  be 
to  change  it  from  being  jazz  into 
something  else.  You  can  relate  to 
something  else  in  your  jazz  playing, 
but  I  see  no  reason  to  try  and  fuse 
it.  It  is  a  separate,  independent  en- 
tity in  its  own. 

Drum     15 


— Along  that  same  vein,  then,  what 
are  your  thoughts  on  the  use  of 
electronic  instruments  like  the  syn- 
thesizer in  jazz? 

Well,  I  think  they  represent  a  very 
important  stage  of  musical  develop- 
ment in  this  era.  I  v^rant  to  be  very 
candid  in  saying  that  I  am  not  one 
that  disapproves  of  them.  I  happen 
to  play  them  for  my  own  benefit 
and  gratification  at  home.  BUT  it 
takes  a  specific  knowledge  of  those 
instrimients  to  play  them.  It  is  not 
as    easily   done    as   many   people 


Photograph  by  Ana  Andreu 


think.  I  do  not  think  that  they  have 
been  delved  into;  they  have  not 
been  here  long  enough.  They  have 
not  been  exploited  the  way  they 
should  have  been  exploited.  For  in- 
stance, we  do  not  have  one  really 
well-known  synthesizer  player.  In 
other  words,  if  I  say  trumpet,  you 
might  say  Eldridge.  You  might  say 
Dizzy  Gillespie.  You  might  say 
Miles  Davis.  Saxophone,  you  would 
say  Cannonball  or  whoever.  I  say 
synthesizer,  and  you  have  to  stop 
and  think — simply  because  the  in- 


struments have  not  got  that  kind  of 
seniority,  chronologically  speaking, 
for  someone  to  take  one  of  them 
and  say  'this  is  my  instrument,  this 
is  what  I  am  going  to  do.'  And  I 
know  there  are  several  instrimients 
with  which  that  could  be  done.  But, 
it  is  youth.  It  is  a  matter  of  youth  in 
the  music. 

— So  you  do  not  plan  to  go  any  fur- 
ther with  that  yourself? 

I've  got  my  hands  full  with  this  [the 
piano  and  concerts].  I  am  hoping  to 
do  an  album,  an  electronic  albima, 
but  it  is  not  something  for  which  I 
want  to  negate  this.  It  is  just 
something  that  I  want  to  do.  Over 
the  years  many  listeners  have 
queried  why  I  nevfer  played  any  of 
the  electronic  instruments  on 
records.  I  recently  did.  Both  Count 
Basie  and  I  play  electric 
piano — Fenderwoods  piano.  If  the 
album  goes  the  way  I  want  it  to,  it 
will  encompass  some  of  the  elec- 
tronic instrimients.  I  am  not  against 
them.  I  do  not  think  they  are  the 
complete  answer  jazz- wise.  I  think 
that  when  used  properly,  they  are 
additives. 

— Grovting  up  black  in  Canada: 
how  did  that  affect  or  influence 
your  life?  your  music?  your  accep- 
tance in  the  United  States? 

Well,  going  point  by  point  of  what 
you  ask:  growdng  up  black  in 
Canada  I  would  imagine  is  no  dif- 
ferent from  growing  up  black  in 
Boston  .  .  .  Indianapolis.  You  are 
basically  part  of  a  minority  race, 
numerically.  I  will  not  get  into 
rights  and  vestiges.  It  is  not  man- 
datory that  we  go  through  it.  I'm 
just  saying  that  environmentally, 
that  is  the  niche — the  category — 
that  you  fall  into.  I  do  not  think  it  is 
that  much  different  because  of  the 
proximity  of  the  two  countries.  The 
popular  music  in  Canada  is  the 
same  as  the  popular  music  here. 
Jazz  is  basically  the  same  as  jazz 
here,  in  and  obviously  of  the  jazz 
realm. 

What  were  some  of  the  dif- 
ferences? None,  other  than,  I  guess 
years  ago  if  I  were  down  in  the 
deep,  deep  South  when  they  had 
the  really  violent  racial  problems, 
it  would  have  been  different.  But 
we  did  not  have  them  to  that  extent 
in  Canada.  We  may  have  them  in 
the  future,  but  we  have  not  had 
them  up  to  now. 


16     Drum 


In  so  far  as  my  arrival  in  the 
United  States:  did  it  have  any  bear- 
ing? I  think  it  had  a  certain  amount 
of  a  curiosity  factor,  I'll  put  it  that 
way.  I  think  it  would  have  to, 
because  I  was  not  that  well-known 
to  all  Americans.  So  naturally, 
when  someone  says  'Here  is  a  jazz 
player,  he  is  from  Canada'  it  is  like 
saying  'Here  is  a  trumpet  player, 
he  is  from  Yugoslavia.'  It  could  be 
the  same  thing.  I  don't  think  it  made 
that  much  difference  other  than  the 
curiosity.  You  still  have  to  do 
something  once  you  are  announced, 
no  matter  where  you  are  from. 

— What  about  your  family?  What 
influence  did  they  have  on  you, 
specifically  in  terms  of  you  playing 
jazz  as  opposed  to  classical  music? 

They  had  a  great  influence  on  me 
because  they  concurred  with  my 
desire  to  change  over  from 
classical  music  to  jazz. 

— And  what  first  sparked  that 
desire  in  you?  Why  jazz? 

The  possibility  of  invention,  of  long 
period  invention.  Improvisation. 
And,  of  course,  the  stimulus  of  the 
rhythmic  patterns,  harmonic  pro- 
gressions. Most  importantly,  my 
older  brother — who  no  longer 
lives — was,  at  that  time,  a  pianist 
in  a  jazz  group.  So,  I  was  intrigued 
with  the  things  he  was  doing. 

— Were  there  any  other  in- 
fluences? 

Nat  Cole,  Teddy  Wilson,  and  Art 
Tatum.  Nat  had  the  ability  to  make 
a  group  swing,  and  swing  hard. 
Teddy  had  the  neatest  piano.  Art 
Tatum,  well,  he  could  do  it  all. 

— I  assume  you  are  referring  to  the 
communication  element  you  spoke 
of  earlier  today? 

Communication  is  a  big  part  of  the 
secret  of  playing  together.  If  you  do 
not  communicate,  you  are  not  play- 
ing together. 

— Have  you  been  playing  recently 
with  a  trio? 

I  keep  my  hand  in  it.  I  do  some  ap- 
pearances. I  just  did  a  thing  in  Los 
Angeles  with  Ray  Brown  and  Louie 
Bellson.  It  is  a  part  of  my  musical 
life  that  I  do  not  want  to  lose 
altogether. 

— You,  Ray  Brown,  and  a  third 
musician  formed  a  different  kind 
of   trio   when   you   founded   your 


School  of  Jazz.  What  happened  to 
that  School? 

Nothing  really.  We  had  to  curtail  it 
because  it  took  so  much  time  to 
open  up  each  semester,  and  ob- 
viously, we  had  to  be  there  to  close 
it.  The  school  just  took  too  much 
time  out  of  the  schedule.  At  that 
time,  whether  my  career  was  get- 
ting bigger — I  guess  that  was  main- 
ly it — the  commitments  were  a  lot 
heavier  than  I  could  handle.  We 
tried  it,  and  we  did  it  for  about  five 
or  six  years,  but  it  just  got  to  where 
we  could  not  handle  it.  I  cotild  not 
do  that  and  this  [perform]. 

— Was  there  very  much  difficulty 
in  retaining  other  musicians  to 
help  with  the  school? 

No,  we  did  not  have  that  problem. 
We  had  a  problem  with  one  thing 
that  made  it  a  little  cumber- 
some— the  premises.  We  rented  the 
premises,  and  basically  they  were 
not  used  while  the  school  was  not 
in  session.  It  is  quite  a  responsibili- 
ty holding  a  building  of  the  size  and 
nature  necessary  to  rim  a  school  of 
that  type.  The  school  only  ran,  at 
the  most,  four  months  a  semester. 
So,  it  was  vacant  eight  months  of 
the  year,  practically  speaking.  It 
was  quite  an  overhead  expense  to 
worry  about,  plus  we  found  out 
that  even  the  four  months  was  not 
enough  time.  I  just  could  not  give  up 
any  more  time. 

— I  know  that  you  are  also  an  ad- 
vocate of  formal  training  for  musi- 
cians. 

We  had  formal  training  at  the 
school  also.  I  found  it  was  more  ex- 
pedient to  have — rather  than 
waste  my  time  giving  a  student  that 
needed  that  particular  type  of 
training  along  with  jazz  training 
(and  when  I  say  wasting,  I  think 
that  this  is  what  I  do  best) — I 
brought  in  a  classical  player  to 
handle  those  problems  in  classical 
playing. 

— So,  you  have  mastered  classical 
and  jazz.  You  have  been  an  instruc- 
tor, a  composer,  a  Grammy  award 
winner.  You  are  probably  the 
world's  greatest  jazz  pianist. 
Where  do  you  plan  to  go  with  your 
music  from  here? 
Well,  to  be  very  honest  with  you,  I 
cannot  really  say  where  it  is  going 
to  go.  I  do  not  know  myself.  That  is 


a  part  of  growing — you  just  hope 
you  continue. 

I  am  going  to  be  doing  quite  a  bit 
more  writing.  I  think  it  is  time  now. 
As  one  of  the  players  that  has  been 
on  the  scene,  I  owe  it  to  the  music 
itself,  to  the  form,  to  leave  some 
kind  of  equitable  musical  direction. 
This  is  one  thing  that  jazz  needs. 
(We  need  more  soloists  too.]  We 
have  never  had  the  written — the 
vast  amount  of  written  background 
and  research  material  for  players. 
And  I  think  that  if  more  players  do 
this,  it  will  make  it  a  lot  easier  for 
aspiring  young  players. 

— You  are  still  considering  the 
book  on  music,  then? 

On  piano?  The  book  is  just  about 
ready.  In  fact,  it  has  changed  from 
a  book  to  a  book  with  cassettes,  and 
now  we  are  talking  about  video- 
cassette  teaching — possibly 
subscriptions  to  a  video-series. 

— Thank  you  for  talking  with  me. 

My  pleasure.  I'm  sorry  it  was  so 
short. 

Special  thanks  to  Dana  DeBarros,  David  Let- 
ters and  Hi-Fidelity  Magazine. 


Photograph  by  Ana  Andreu 

Drum     1 7 


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Photographs  by  Ana  Andreu 


Valerie  Maynard  is  a  black 
sculptress  living  in  New  York  City. 
Recently  she  spoke  with  DRUM 
about  her  work,  her  life  and  her 
opinions. 

— As  a  woman  has  it  been  difficult 
for  you  to  succeed  as  an  artist? 

It  has  been  difficult  making  an  ar- 
tist of  myself,  because  I  am  really 


doing  what  everyone  else  is  doing 
— like  any  woman  anywhere.  But  I 
am  putting  in  many  more  hours,  20 
hours  instead  of  10  hours,  or 
whatever,  just  to  survive.  Difficult 
in  the  sense  that  I  do  not  know 
whether  it  is  art,  whether  it  is 
black  art,  or  women's  art.  It  is 
creating  my  earlier  experiences, 
but  it  is  difficult  because  I  always 


18     Drum 


saw  what  no  one  else  saw.  I  real- 
ized I  had  to  learn  some  way  to  ar- 
ticulate my  visual  impressions.  It  is 
like  making  a  language  that  hope- 
fully, someone  will  imderstand. 
There  are  those  things  in  your 
mind,  and  somehow  you  have  to  say 
something  about  them.  You  know 
that  it  is  happening  to  someone  else 
too,  so  out  of  the  whole,  you  try  to 
pick  out  a  little  bit,  try  to  say 
something  about  that  bit.  You  might 
get  an  impression  from  the  im- 
mediate community,  but  then  it 
starts  travelling  everywhere.  You 
find  the  whole  human  family, 
whether  in  language,  age,  or 
whatever.  Art  transcends  all  of 
this,  and  someone  will  say,  "Okay, 
yes,  I  understand."  The  sacrifice  is 
the  primary  difficulty  because  I  am 
working  for  that  small  com- 
pany— that  which  goes  on  in  my 
head — and  no  one  can  see  it  unless 
I  do  it. 

— Looking  at  the  works  you  have 
displayed  here,  I  would  say  that 
most  of  them  have  very  expressive 
faces.  Some  are  executed  in  stone, 
some  in  wood,  and  some  in  bronze. 
What  other  media  do  you  use? 
I    do    some    painting,    printing, 


will  look  at  it  and  see  exactly  what 
is  there.  At  that  point,  I  will  stage 
what  I  have  seen  by  blocking  out 
the  image.  Now,  when  I  go  back  to 
finish  it,  that  is  a  different  matter. 
For  me,  the  initial  thing  has  hap- 
pened. When  I  carve  on  wood,  I  am 
not  working  on  a  piece  with  which  I 
am  then  finished.  I  may  not  touch  it 
for  six  months  or  a  year.  I  may 
begin  again  in  five  months  or  one 
and  a  half  years.  I  do  not  time  it 
unless  I  am  doing  a  show  or 
something.  If  I  am  printing  or  pain- 
ting I  have  thousands  of  pieces  of 
paper  with  little  drawings  and 
notes  about  pieces  I  have  done.  I 
may  look  at  them,  and  I  may  not. 

— In  other  words,  you  are  open  to 
your  feelings? 

Yes,  but  it  is  difficult  to  achieve 
that  initial  feeling  because  I  am  go- 
ing to  find  all  kinds  of  things  as  I  go 
along.  When  I  finish  a  piece  I  am 
seeing  it  for  the  first  time,  just  as 
you  are  seeing  it  for  the  first  time.  I 
do  not  carve  when  I  already  know 
what  is  going  to  happen. 


— So  it  grows  with  you? 

Yes,  the  piece  and  I  work  togeth( 


— Was  your  experience  and  educa- 
tion an  evolution  of  interests? 

Well,  I  have  been  showing  my  work 
since  I  was  about  27.  I  began  ex- 
hibiting in  libraries  and  commimity 
centers.  Then,  my  pieces  were 
displayed  in  a  couple  of  galleries 
and  museimis,  and  then  my  work 
began  travelling  across  the  coulu- 
try.  I  was  invited  to  teach  at 
Howard  in  1975,  and  I  taught  at 
Jersey  State  for  one  term.  The 
students  worked  well,  but  it  was 
really  difficult  for  me  to  start  at  the 
beginning  again,  so  I  decided  not  to 
teach  for  a  couple  of  years. 
Basically  that  is  what  I  have  done, 
and  now  I  am  working  on  some 
commissioned  pieces. 

— You  began  your  work  in  the  mid 
fifties.  I  have  here  an  article  that 
says  that  during  "the  fifties  there 
[was]  an  increase  in  the  number  of 
women  artists  who  [had]  achieved 
public  careers."  Women  with 
careers  are  a  primary  concern 
right  now. 

But,  do  you  know  of  any  woman  ar- 
tists who  succeeded?  I  do  not  know 
of  any. 


ler.       — Exactly,  and  that  is  what  makes 


VALERIE  MAYNARD 


plasters,  ceramics — just  about 
anything  I  can  put  my  hands  on.  I 
am  curious  about  everything.  Any 
material  at  all,  and  eventually  I 
will  work  with  it  all. 

— Do  you  find  working  with  wood 
more  challenging? 

No,  it  is  all  challenging.  Each  thing 
presents  its  own  challenge.  Wood 
is  perhaps  more  physical,  but  as 
you  see,  I  love  wood.  Several 
lifetimes  would  not  be  enough  to 
carve  it. 

— How  do  you  begin  work  on  a 
piece  of  wood? 

First  of  all,  the  wood  is  here  in  my 
studio.  I  try  to  become  one  with  it;  I 
have  no  particular  plans  for  it.  It 
just  sits  there.  It  is  a  telephone 
table  most  of  the  time,  but  one  day  I 


— What  is  your  educational 
background?  Have  you  had  any  art 
training? 

I  went  to  Public  School  136,  then  I 
went  to  City  Park,  and  then  I  went 
to  a  Fine  Arts  School.  In  1955,  I 
believe  I  was  particxilarly  sensitive 
and  vulnerable;  I  was  offered  the 
chance  to  go  to  other  schools  after 
high  school,  but  because  I  felt  I  was 
going  to  be  isolated  from  my  com- 
mimity,  I  decided  not  to  go  to  col- 
lege. I  just  began  working  with  my 
art.  It  was  a  personal  thing.  I 
taught  and  did  other  things — arts 
and  crafts,  made  furniture,  worked 
with  public  school  centers.  Last 
year,  though,  I  enrolled  in  a  course 
on  monumental  sculpture  at  Elaine 
Journet.  With  all  of  that,  I  find  that 
I  am  fairly  well  disciplined. 


you  so  interesting.  You  came  out  of 
high  school,  you  did  not  go  to  col- 
lege, or  receive  any  formal  train- 
ing— and  here  you  are  living  and 
working  as  you  do. 
At  that  time,  I  felt  that  all  I  could  do 
was  teach.  They  would  say  "Okay, 
you  are  a  black  woman.  You  can 
teach  or  be  a  secretary."  There 
were  few  things  for  me  to  do,  and 
even  though  I  did  not  know  what  it 
was  that  I  wanted  to  do  specifical- 
ly, I  knew  that  serving  your  com- 
mvuiity  was  a  regular  part  of  life. 
But  I  did  not  feel  that  was  all. 

— Since  we  have  mentioned  women 
artists,  do  you  feel  that  your  work 
relates  to  that  of  women  artists? 

Automatically  it  does. 

— According  to  Lawrence  Alloway, 


Drum     19 


"a  feminist  is  a  woman  who  is  will- 
ing to  work  with  other  women 
ultimately  to  reduce  inequality,  or 
to  insure  some  reform."  Do  you 
consider  yourself  a  feminist? 
For  a  few  minutes  everyday,  it  oc- 
curs to  me  that  I  have  to  deal  with 
that  label.  I  think  I  am,  but,  like 
everything  else,  it  is  only  momen- 
tary. Life  has  not  been  luxurious 
enough  for  me  to  be  anywhere 
longer  than  it  takes  for  me  to  ac- 
complish something.  During  the  six- 
ties I  was  dealing  in  a  political  way. 
Somewhere  in  this  country  I  hap- 
pened to  be  aware  of  what  was  go- 
ing on,  when  suddenly,  I  was  stan- 
ding in  front  of  twenty  guns  about 


to  be  blown  from  this  earth. 
Another  time  I  was  in  New  York 
fighting  the  judicial  system; 
another  time  I  was  doing  none  of 
that — just  sitting  in  a  park  playing 
with  some  children.  Another  time  I 
was  the  superintendent  of  a 
building;  another  time  I  was  work- 
ing at  a  factory  on  17th  Street; 
another  time  I  was  teaching  at 
Howard.  Another  time  I  was  in 
Maine  gazing  upon  a  lake  and  pain- 
ting a  landscape;  another  time, 
whatever.  All  of  it  is  integral.  The 
worst  thing  about  this  society  is 
that  they  want  to  label  everyone, 
and  as  such  that  label  will  be  worn 
from  the  first  moment.  Everyone 
will  do  her  research  to  see  what 
was  said  about  a  person,  but  what 
is  really  sad  is  that  while  we  are 
able,  while  we  are  living  and  doing 


20     Drum 


everything  contemporary,  nothing 
will  happen  until  we  are  dead.  To 
try  to  stop  life  is  preposterous.  One 
thing  we  depend  upon  is  changes. 
As  far  as  defending  women  or  them 
getting  together,  what  is  done  in 
this  lifetime  as  a  woman  will  be 
cimiulative. 

— In  reference  to  changes, 
Alloway  also  says  that  "the 
women's  movement  in  art  can  be 
considered  avant-garde  because 
its  members  are  united  by  a  desire 
to  change  existing  social  forms  of 
the  art  world."  You  said  that  you 
think  of  yourself  as  a  feminist  in 
the  sense  that  you  do  not  feel  total- 
ly integrated  into  one  group  or 
movement,  but  let  us  say — 
And  certainly  not  under  the  banner 
of  changing  the  art  world.  I  am  not 
an  idiot.  I  happen  to  be  into  art,  not 
because  I  had  nothing  else  to  do, 
nor  to  support  myself,  nor  to 
change  anyone's  ideas^nothing 
like  that.  I  was  finding  my  voice. 

— But  is  that  not  similar  to  bringing 
social  change? 

No,  not  really.  Women  have  been 
creating  artworks  since  the  world 
began,  just  as  man  has.  Why  would 
I  spend  my  time  trying  to  change 
that?  My  energy  would  not  be 
directed  toward  change  for  that 
reason. 

— So  what  concerns  you  are  ex- 
pressions and  the  language? 

For  everyone  to  express  her 
language  because  if  everyone  ex- 
presses her  language  or  sings  her 
songs  or  uses  her  voice,  the  result 
will  be  harmony. 

— Which  means  that  the  Feminist 
Movement  is  a  total  waste  of 
energy? 

I  think  that  it  is  valid  for  some 
people — those  who  believe  that 
that  is  what  is  stopping  them. 
Hopefully,  with  energy  and  com- 
munication, they  will  perceive  that 
and  outgrow  the  situation. 

— You  have  mentioned  language, 
what  can  you  say  about  contem- 
porary artwork,  in  which  techni- 
que plays  an  important  role? 

I  find  that  now  people  are  very  in- 
volved with  the  technical  vehicle. 
They  are  so  busy  dealing  with  that, 
they  have  forgotten  matters  of  life. 
I  can  do  everything  totally, 
beautifully,  technically,  and  have 


nothing  to  say — which  is  what  we 
find  proliferating  all  over  the  coxai- 
try — nothing  himian,  nothing  that 
reflects  life  itself.  Nothing.  We 
have  to  know  the  language  of  every- 
day life  so  we  have  to  be  people, 
and  artists  who  are  social  and  com- 
mimative.  That  is  what  it  is  all 
about. 

— How  do  you  present  your  art- 
work in  galleries,  schools,  or 
universities?  Who  invites  you  and 
how  do  you  feel  as  a  third  world 
woman?  Are  there  any  problems  in 
dealing  with  your  hosts? 
When  people  say  "Now,  how  did 
you  get  to  show  with  us?",  I  have  no 
idea.  I  do  not  know.  It  is  the  type  of 
situation  where  no  one  knows  who 
is  going  or  coming.  No  one  knows 
what  is  there.  It  is  very  difficult.  It 
will  always  be  as  a  woman  and  as 
an  artist,  especially  to  get  into  any 
of  the  major  museimis,  to  be  taken 
seriously  or  criticized.  Our  entire 
society  has  been  brought  up  with  a 
certain  way  of  seeing  black  women 
as  maids,  as  prostitutes,  or  what- 
ever. I  forgive  them.  People  have  in- 
vited me  many  places  not  knowing 
who  I  was  or  what  I  looked  like.  I  sit 
there  and  enjoy,  and  remain  aware 
of  all  that  is  going  on,  all  the  while 
they  are  looking  for  Valerie 
Maynard.  Then,  I  will  get  up  and 
say  "I  am  Valerie  Maynard,"  and 
watch  the  people  as  they  just  about 
pass  out.  They  do  not  believe  I  am 
who  I  say  I  am.  Other  people  have 
come  to  exhibits  and  said  "there  is 
only  one  name  here.  Where  are  the 
different  artists?  You  did  not  put 
the  labels  on." 

Then  galleries  will  say  that  they 
will  sell  my  work  for  me  and  take 
forty  or  fifty  percent.  How  can  they 
value  a  sculptor's  work?  It  takes 
me  a  year  and  a  half  to  do  a  piece.  I 
have  to  carry  my  work  with  me. 
Already  I  have  spent  150%  of  my 
time  and  money — in  addition  to  the 
space  necessary  to  work  on  the 
piece  itself.  When  somebody  comes 
along  and  says  "I  want  50%,"  50% 
of  what?  Of  my  grandfather's 
sweat,  my  father's  and  my  mother's 
sweat?  On  the  other  hand,  the 
museums  want  to  buy  my  work.  But 
what  you  must  realize  is  that  when 
that  piece  is  bought,  it  is  put  on  the 
floor  for  a  year,  and  then  buried  for 
the  next  hundred  years.  As  long  as 
the  piece  is  not  here  for  me  to 


control — so  that  you  may  see  it — it 
means  that  I  can  be  bought  out  of 
existence.  There  is  not  a  patron 
willing  to  donate  so  many 
thousands  of  dollars  to  keep  that 
piece  of  work  on  the  floor.  So,  for 
the  next  300  years  I  have  never  ex- 
isted. What  this  means  is  that  I 
cannot  afford  to  take  the  money 
that  is  sometimes  offered  to  me.  A 
multiplicity  of  things  happen;  the 
black  artists,  and  so  many  other 
third  world  artists,  have  to  deal 
with  many  problems. 

— What  thoughts  do  you  think  the 
gallery  and  museum  directors  have 
in  their  heads  when  they  make 
these  statements?  Is  it  because  it  is 
the  work  of  a  woman?  a  black 
woman? 

It  is  the  result  of  the  way  one  has 
been  educated,  of  the  way  one  has 
been  shown.  It  is  only  recently  that 
kids  are  seeing  black  people  in  art 
books.  Unless  you  looked  at  Na- 
tional Geographic,  you  would  not 
see  billboards  with  black  people. 
There  was  no  such  thing.  No  reflec- 
tion of  you  or  me  anywhere.  Like  a 
blitz,  a  desert.  Everything  you  saw 
was  what  surrounded  you — your 
family  and  such.  If  they  had  a 
strong  image,  then  you  had  a  strong 
image. 

I  grew  up  in  New  York-Harlem- 
and  I  got  around  quite  a  bit.  My 
mother  was  the  type  of  person  who 
would  send  me  anywhere,  so  I  rode 
the  trains  and  buses  at  a  very 
yoimg  age.  I  had  no  fears  about  go- 
ing anywhere.  If  I  was  the  only 
black  person,  it  did  not  occur  to  me 
to  notice  that  fact.  I  was  occupied 
with  what  I  had  come  to  see. 

— In  what  galleries  have  you  ex- 
hibited? 

All  kinds.  Not  many  here  in  New 
York,  but  by  choice.  I  have  been  ex- 
hibiting in  the  streets  since  I  was 
19,  and  people  have  offered  to  buy 
things  from  me.  Before  I  even  knew 
who  I  was,  I  had  intuitively  said  no 
to  these  offers.  This  may,  at  the  end 
of  my  life,  have  been  an  error,  but 
it  is  the  way  I  have  operated. 

I  have  some  graphic  work  show- 
ing in  South  American  musemns.  It 
is  an  exhibit  presenting  the  work  of 
several  black  graphic  artists.  And  I 
have  some  work  in  a  three  woman 
show  travelling  in  Sweden.  I 
thought  the  Swedish  exhibit  would 


Drum     21 


be  good — my  intuition  said  'okay,  I 
can  do  this.'  I  basically  live  and  do 
my  work  by  intuition.  I  cannot  look 
at  my  work  like  it  is  a  great 
business  adventure.  I  do  not  know 
if  I  am  going  to  live  past  tomorrow, 
so  I  cannot  say  'I  am  going  to  do 
this  or  that  in  the  future.'  Now  is 
the  time  to  do  it. 

— And  if  something  happens  to 
you?  What  will  happen  to  your 
works  of  art? 

I  would  like  my  work  to  go  to  Black 
institutions,  a  place  where  young 
blacks — all  kinds  of  people — will 
see  it.  Not  aU  of  my  works  need  go 
to  one  place,  in  case  something 
happens  to  that  institution.  I  do  not 
want  any  of  it  to  be  in  a  place 
where  it  may  be  buried,  or  taken 
for  a  personal  collection.  I  do  not 
pay  much  attention  to  my  prints 
and  paintings.  People  can  buy 
them — except  for  the  ones  about 
which  I  feel  very  strongly. 

— Did  African  art  have  any  in- 
fluence on  your  work? 

All  I  saw  was  us,  my  own  people. 
People  would  often  say  that  my 
work  looked  African.  My  work 
represents  the  way  my  impressions 
came  through  me.  As  for  the  im- 
ages, an  African  artist  and  I  may 
have  similar  ones.  We  are  exactly 
the  same — the  way  it  has  always 
been — in  the  way  we  sit,  the  way 
we  carry  ourselves,  the  way  we 
talk.  Afro-Americans  use  another 
language,  but  the  tone  and  man- 
nerisms are  exactly  the  same. 

I  went  to  Africa  for  the  first  time 
last  year  for  the  Festac  Festival 
'n,  where  black  people  from  all 
over  the  world — artists,  musicians, 
dancers — gathered  together.  There 
I  received  the  opportunity  to  see 
and  feel  the  tremendous  palette  of 
our  people,  and  how  we  reflect 
upon  each  other. 

Afro-Americans  have  been  here 
over  300  years.  That  realm  of  time 
is  like  a  grain  of  salt  in  comparison 
to  how  long  we  have  been  on  this 
earth.  It  is  nothing.  How  I  see  did 
not  come  from  the  outside,  but  from 
within.  I  do  my  art  the  way  I  feel  it. 

In  terms  of  visual  things,  when  I 
was  younger  my  mother  would  take 
me  down  to  the  Village,  to 
Chinatown,  and  I  always  asked, 
'Where  are  the  pictures  of  us?' 
There  were  few  blacks.  Bearden 
Lewis,  Morris  and  Jacob  Lawrence, 


and  other  people  were  working  in 
New  York  City  at  that  time,  but  I 
did  not  know  it.  I  belonged  to  the 
YMCA  and  other  community 
organizations,  but  I  just  never  went 
to  their  art  centers.  I  never  knew 
they  were  there  until  I  was  older — 
and  that  was  pure  coincidence. 

Chinese  and  African  art  were 
the  first  two  types  of  art  to  instruct 
me  spiritually.  Whatever  it  was 
that  hit  me  when  I  saw  those  im- 
ages was  a  matter  of  the  spirit,  and 
I  immediately  felt  it  and  luiderstood 
it.  I  always  knew  there  were  people 
like  me.  It  was  just  a  matter  of  find- 
ing them. 

by  Margarita  Vargas 


22     Brum 


Valerie  Maynard 


Continued  from  page  7 
I  winged  across  roof  tops  and 
became  a  note.  I  was  music,  singing 
and  shouting— REVOLUTION- 
REVOLUTION— REVOLU- 
TION!!!!!!!! 

Mama  was  fixLn'  Brown  a  plate.  I 
could  hear  her  clangin'  the  dishes 
in  the  cupboard  as  she  was 
reachin'  for  the  good  dishes.  She 
always  serves  Brown  on  the  good 
dishes  when  he  first  comes  home. 
She  says  after  a  mans  been  away 
workin'  he  ought  to  be  treated  to 
somethin'  special,  especially  cause 
some  of  our  men  don't  take  care  of 
business  the  way  Brown  do.  I  knew 
Brown  was  smilin'.  He  loved  to  eat 
Mama's  cooktn'.  He  always  smiled 
'round  Mama  anyway,  cause  he 
said  she  was  a  beautiful  lady. 
Mama  fried  him  some  chicken  and 
made  him  greens  and  fresh  bread. 
Brown  was  makin'  all  kinds  of 
sounds  while  he  was  eatin'. 

"Umm,  Ummm,  Ummmm!  Baby 
this  is  soo  good!!  Umm,  Ummm- 
mmm!!!!"  Between  his  "Umms"  he 
told  Mama  about  his  trip  and 
wanted  to  know  about  the  trouble 
in  the  neighborhood.  I  could  hear 
Mama  sigh  real  heavy  as  she  sat 
down  at  the  table  across  from 
Brown.  She  paused  for  a  minute, 
then  picked  up  the  salt  shaker  and 
twirled  it  aroimd  a  bit.  That's  how 
Mama  do  before  she  gets  to  talkin' 
about  somethin'  serious. 

"Yeah,  Brown,  there's  been  lots 
of  trouble  'round  here  since  you 
been  gone.  You  know  them  old 
broken  down  tenements  up  on  the 
hill — well  Jessie  Burden  and  his 
gang  set  them  on  fire,  it  caused 
such  a  commotion  everybody  took 
to  the  streets.  Seems  like  Jessie's 
family  was  livin'  in  a  real  bad 
building,  there  was  no  hot  water, 
the  toilets  wasn't  workin',  no  heat, 
chipped  plaster,  broken  down 
stairs — the  works.  It  was  a  real  rat 
trap.  Well  anyway,  poor  Mrs. 
Burden  and  all  her  kids  was  the  on- 
ly ones  left  in  the  buUding.  Condi- 
tions got  so  bad  that  anybody  who 
could  do  it  left.  Poor  thing — she 
tried  so  hard,  but  she  just  couldn't 
seem  to  find  a  place  big  enough  for 
her  and  all  her  kids.  Anyway,  the 
landlord  raised  her  rent,  and  set  to 
collecting  it  too.  He  lifted  not  one 
finger  to  fix  the  place  up.  She 
couldn't  pay  no  more  rent — she 
could    hardly    pay    what    it    was 


SUNNI 


before.  And  you  know  Mrs.  Burden, 
she's  a  proud  woman — she  wasn't 
collecting  no  welfare  or  nothing. 
Well  honey,  times  got  so  bad  that 
she  wasn't  makin'  her  rent 
payments  at  all.  No  sooner  had  two 
or  three  months  gone  by  that  white 
boy  sent  somebody  from  the  court 
up  here  and  had  her  served  with  an 
eviction  notice.  Her  babies,  and  all 
her  belongings  was  settin'  right  out 
on  the  street.  The  yoimg  folks 
'round  here  got  so  mad — I  mean 
you  can't  blame  them.  Jessie  and 
the  boys  he  stay  with  set  fire  to  that 
building  and  every  building  like  it. 
The  hill  was  blazing!  Lord,  Brown, 
from  that  moment  on  people  have 
been  goin'  crazy.  Anything  that 
wasn't  owned  by  Blacks  was 
destroyed.  Not  a  white  boy  has 
been  up  this  way  since,  'cept  the 
police  of  course.  I've  been  told  that 
it's  not  over.  Theses  children  are 
talking  about  revolution.  Can  you 
imagine,  REVOLUTION!  I'm  so 
afraid  one  of  these  kids  is  gong  to 
be  killed.  It  scares  me  to  let  Cissy 
out,  but  I'm  really  upset  when  I 
have  to  let  Naomi  go.  Brown,  she's 
so  young  to  see  all  of  this." 

"Now  Maxine,  the  world  is  turn- 
ing, and  things  are  changin'.  We 
have  our  part  to  do  and  the  kids 
have  theirs.  You  gorma  have  to 
understand  what  they  be  tellin' 
us." 

Revolution,  I  hardly  knew  what 
the  word  meant.  I  asked  Cissy  and 
she  said  we  was  fighting  The  Man. 
But  I  didn't  know  what  man  she 
was  talkin'  about.  Ida  said  it  had 
somethin'  to  do  with  white  people. 
The  only  white  people  I  knew  was 
my  teachers  in  school  and  the  old 
jew  man  what  came  collecting 
money  for  furniture. 

White  folks  didn't  phase  me.  My 
teachers  never  bothered  with  me 
and  I  never  bothered  with  them. 
We  never  read  anything  good  in 
class,  so  I  read  my  own  books  what 
Cissy  got  from  the  library.  The  old 
jew  man  smeUed  funny,  so  I  never 
went  around  him  when  he  came  to 
our  building,  'cides  he  never  came 
to  our  house.  My  mind  was  mixed 


up.  Cissy  told  me  revolution  was  go- 
ing to  free  all  poor  people  like  us.  I 
didn't  know  we  was  poor,  so  I 
started  cryin'.  I  didn't  want  to  be 
poor,  cause  then  maybe  somebody 
would  put  us  out  on  the  street  like 
they  did  to  Mrs.  Burden. 

Brown  was  gonna  be  home  for  a 
couple  of  months,  and  since  Mama 
was  so  worried  about  us  Brown 
promised  to  meet  us  by  the  projects 
everyday  after  school.  Brown  stood 
tall  like  a  big  bear,  always  looking 
in  the  direction  we  was  comin' 
from.  He  kept  one  hand  in  his  waist 
pocket,  while  the  other  hand  held  a 
toothpick  in  his  mouth.  Occasional- 
ly he  let  it  tease  one  of  his  back 
teeth  or  pick  at  his  gold  tooth.  As 
soon  as  he'd  see  us  comto'  he'd 
start  to  smUe,  and  me  and  Cissy 
smiled  back,  always  walkin'  faster 
to  get  to  him.  Brown  gave  off  heat, 
he  be  warm  just  like  Sunni  be 
warm.  Sometimes  they  put  me  to 
mind  of  each  other.  Cissy  said  it 
was  because  they  was  both 
guerillas,  and  guerillas  don't  take 
no  shit!  But  I  was  scared  of 
gorillas,  so  I  thought  it  was  just 
because  of  what  I  said — they  both 
be  real  warm.  Everyday  Brown  had 
a  treat  for  us.  Sometimes  he'd  pull 
four  or  five  Mary  Janes  from  his 
pocket,  or  he'd  let  us  stop  at  Phil's 
Candy  Store,  where  we  could  pick 
out  anything  we  wanted.  When 
Brown  walked  us  home  I  felt  real 
good.  He  got  a  way  what  always 
made  me  feel  like  jumpin'  up  in  his 
pocket  and  hangin'  out  with  all  his 
dimes  and  quarters  and  Mary 
Janes.  That  was  one  thing  'bout 
Brown,  he  never  kept  no  pennies, 
just  big  change. 

On  Monday  afternoon  me  and 
Cissy  got  up  to  the  projects  and 
Brown  wasn't  there.  Cissy  said 
maybe  Brown  forgot  'cause  it  was 
Monday,  the  first  day  of  the  week 
and  all;  but  I  knew  BroAvn  didn't 
forget.  He  don't  forget  nothin',  and 
'cides  Brown  never  breaks  a  pro- 
mise, and  he  promised  Mama  he'd 
meet  us.  My  heart  started  beatin' 
kinda  fast,  and  I  thought  that  we 
Continued  on  page  43 


24     Drum 


Carl  Yates 


Photograph  by  Jack  Luron 


WHAT  IS  AN  ENO? 


26     Drum 


What  is  an  Eno?  Eno  is  an 
Afrikan  word  originating  from  nor- 
thern Nigeria.  Roughly  translated, 
it  means  the  "gift  of  God."  I  would 
not  be  so  audacious  as  to  grant 
myself  a  name  that  is  an  attribute 
of  God  because,  in  all  honesty,  I 
don't  feel  that  I  am  worthy  of,  such 
titles. 

The  name,  "Eno,"  was  granted  to 
me  in  1970  in  Portland,  Oregon  by 
Dr.  Okon  Essiet,  Ministry  of  Educa- 
tion, Calabak,  Nigeria.  Dr.  Essiet 
was  teaching  at  Mt.  Hood  Com- 
munity College  and  had  formed  an 
Afrikan-based  cultural  group  call 
the  "Oyoyos."  Many  days  and 
nights  I  spent  with  the  Essiet  family 
breaking  bread,  exchanging 
histories,  and  sharing  cultural 
traits.  And,  there  was  plenty  of 
dancing!  The  Essiets  and  I  would 
dance  at  the  beginning,  middle,  and 
end  of  each  visit.  This  was  a  form 
of  communication;  a  sharing  of 
hope,  love  and  trust.  We  were  all 
secure  within  our  individual  iden- 
tities and  our  cultural  ties.  Dr. 
Essiet  told  me  that  I  danced  "like  a 
Hausa  (an  indigenous  people  of 
Northern  Nigeria),"  and  termed  my 
style  "asabo"  again,  roughly  mean- 
ing, "controller  of  natural 
sources."  I  danced  with  the  Oyoyos 
until  the  Essiets  returned  to 
Nigeria  three  years  later. 

As  Donald  Washington,  I  had 
been  a  principal  dancer  in  two 
other  community-based  groups: 
"Ibanduwo,"  and  "We  Black  and 
Tans,"  between  the  years  1967  and 
1970  in  Portland.  Both  companies 
were  based  at  the  former  Albina 
Arts  Center,  once  a  thriving  hotbed 
for  Black  talent  and  creators.  "We 
Black  and  Tans"  evolved  into 
"Ibanduwo"  and  both  groups 
fought  for  years  attempting  to  keep 
the  building  from  being  foreclosed 
for  non-payment  of  utilities. 
Benefits  for  the  Black  community  in 
Portland,  Eugene,  Oregon,  or  even 
the  Oregon  State  Penitentiary 
became  our  trademark.  We  sup- 
ported ourselves  by  doing  every 
other  thing.  We  were  not  bitter 
about  our  sacrifices  because  it  was 
this  "dues"  that  brought  our  collec- 
tive art  and  beings  together.  We 
made  masks,  graphics,  taught  art, 
dance,  music,  and  crafts  free  of 
charge  to  children  and  adults  at 
Albina  Art  Center.  Just  as  politics 
and  culture  are  not  separated  in 


LU 


< 


the  traditional  Afrikan  sense, 
neither  is  it  in  the  Pan-Afrikan 
sense.  The  Black  and  Tans,  and 
Ibanduwo  had  many  exchanges 
with  the  "Black  Educational 
Center,"  Portland's  only  ac- 
credited school  for  the  "positive 
education"  for  Black  children. 
Though  the  Black  and  Tans  and 
Ibanduwo  have  physically  disband- 
ed and  members  relocated  to  dif- 
ferent parts  of  the  globe,  there  is 
still  constant  communications.  All 
of  us,  though  staunch  individuals, 
still  retain  inseparable  communal 
and  ancestral  links.  Our  bond  has 
been  forged  in  the  fire  of  our  wills 
and  the  purgatory  of  our  ex- 
istences. 

I  remember  dancing  from  the 
time  I  first  learned  to  walk,  but 
since  I  don't  recall  how  old  I  was  at 
the  time,  I  usually  say  that  I've 
been  dancing  since  1960  when  I 
first  learned  an  Afrikan-American 
social  dance  called  "the  Watusi."  I 
was  always  the  last  one  on  the 
block  to  learn  a  dance,  but  once  I 
learned  something,  I  would  never 
forget  it.  I  practiced  constantly  and 
one  of  my  favorite  methods  of 
retention  was  to  learn  a  dance 
"backwards"  or  in  reverse  order.  I 
do  remember  before  I  was  officially 
enrolled  in  kindergarten,  I  would 
watch  my  mother  and  father  from 
my  bedroom  as  they  danced  the 
"St.  Louis  Bop,"  a  dance  evolving 
out  of  the  original  "Lindy  Hop,"  or 
"Jitterbug."  My  mom  and  dad  were 
somewhat  amused  by  my  interest  in 
dance,  and  later  showed  me  how  to 
"bop,"  designating  a  broom  as  my 
temporary  "partner."  I  continued 
to  catalog  movements,  steps, 
dances,  and  history,  into  a  personal 
vocabulary  of  Pan-Afrikan  dance.  I 
have  studied  under  such  great 
teachers  as  Mrs.  Jacqueline 
Schumacher  of  the  Portland  Ballet 
School,  Ahmand  Sahir,  a  great  ex- 
ponent of  Afrikan  dance,  Raymond 
Sawyer,  formerly  working  vdth  the 
Alvin  Ailey  Dance  Theatre,  and 
Nontsizi  Cayou,  a  teacher  of 
Afrikan  and  Jazz  dance  at  San 
Francisco  State  College. 

I  have  not  limited  myself  to  one 
particular  style  of  dance.  I  incor- 
porate all  styles.  A  true  artist  can- 
not be  limited  by  forms  alone.  Con- 
tent and  context  determine  forms 
and  neither  of  these  three  can  be 
viewed  and  evaluated  separately 


Drum     27 


from  the  other  two.  This  philoso- 
phy, while  congruent  to  traditional 
or  ancient  Afrikan  philosophies,  is 
antithetical  to  Western  or  Euro- 
pean derived  philosophies.  This 
philosophy  is  also  true  in  Pan- 
Afrikan  dance  forms  where  matter 
and  manner  combine  to  produce 
certain  contextual  phenomena. 

To  describe  what  constitutes 
Pan-Afrikan  dance,  a  brief  over- 
view of  Afrikan  dance  must  be 
presented.  Afrikan  dances  are  not 
considered  to  be  "art"  in  the  Euro- 
pean sense  of  the  word.  It  can 
generally  be  said  that  everyone  in 
Afrika  dances,  except  of  course, 
those  few  individuals  who  identify 
with  Western  aesthetics  and  at- 
tempt to  sever  their  historical  and 
cultural  ties  with  the  land.  It  is  not 
uncommon  to  see  elderly  Afrikan 
men  and  women  dancing  the  same 
way  one  might  expect  to  see 
children  and  young  adults  dancing. 
There  are  dances  done  for  every 
occasion,  and  each  dance  and  oc- 
casion has  its  OAAm  particular  driun 
rhythm  and  musical  pattern.  The 
dance  is  not  done  for  the  sake  of 
the  particular  individual  or  occa- 
sion, but  for  the  entire  Afrikan  peo- 
ple. 

The  individual  doesn't  exist  in  a 


vacuum,  but  as  an  integral  part  of 
the  Afrikan  social  system  where 
democracy  was  first  implemented 
on  Earth.  The  Afrikan  artist  is  a 
"fimctional"  artist.  Art  has  to  have 
a  purpose,  a  justification,  and  a 
meaning.  Afrikan  art  cannot  exist 
for  its  own  sake,  but  for  the  sake  of 
the  communal  body  from  which  it 
spawns.  When  dance,  which  was 
first  done  to  communicate  with 
heavenly  spirits,  becomes  a 
showpiece,  it  loses  the  power  to 
bring  people  together  and  instead, 
it  separates  people  into  the  privi- 
leged and  the  not-so-privileged. 
Though  Afrikan  dance  has  not  been 
static,  it  has  generally  remained 
true  to  its  historical  context. 

There  are  two  types  of  Afrikan 
dance:  recreational  and  ritual.  Re- 
creational dance  is  informal,  allow- 
ing for  free  improvisations  and 
closely  following  current  trends  in 
music,  fashions,  and  standards  of 
acceptable  behavior.  Ritual 
dances,  however,  are  relatively  un- 
changing. As  stated  by  Lee  Warren 
in  her  book,  The  Dance  of  Africa, 
ritual  dances  are  "the  bones  and 
blood  of  Afrikan  culture  with  deep 
psychological  and  religious  roots." 
Afrikan  dance  has,  for  centuries, 
expressed  a  fimctional  unity  of  art 


and  life,  a  total  synthesis  of  mind, 
body  and  spirit. 

Under  the  yoke  of  colonization 
and  slavery,  Afrikan  dance  began 
to  change.  Many  slaves  brought  in- 
to the  West  Indies  were  priests  and 
religious  leaders,  and  a  number  of 
surviving  rituals  have  been  shown 
to  be  similar  to  those  performed  in 
Afrika.  According  to  historian  John 
Hope  Franklin,  there  was  a  great 
interchange  of  slaves  between  the 
West  Indies  and  mainland  Afrika 
which  had  an  adverse  effect  on 
Afrikan  dance. 

The  North  American  settlers 
stripped  the  Afrikans  of  their 
culture  by  prohibiting  the  playing 
of  the  drum  and  any  gathering  of 
large  groups  until  1812.  The  slave 
hunters  purposely  sought  out,  tor- 
tured, and  killed  the  principal  car- 
riers of  Afrikan  history,  religion, 
art,  science  and  medicine.  The 
principal  carriers  of  African 
culture  were  the  witch  doctors,  the 
musicians,  the  dancers,  and  the 
priests.  The  immediate  and  extend- 
ed families  were  slaughtered  as 
well  because  the  slave  owners 
knew  that  Afrika  was  basically  a 
non-literate  (not  illiterate)  system 
of  education,  i.e.,  oral  tradition. 
Continued  on  page  69 


28     Drum 


An  Inmates  Work— Anonymous 


Drum     29 


FOR  DOLLAR  BRAND 


Piano  keys  paint  this  scene: 
Woven  gold  cloth 
torn  by  voracious  winds 
and  flapping  over  a  rust  desert. 
And  piano  keys  paint  this  scene: 
A  black  bar  of  cloud 
hangs  iron  heavy 
over  a  bone-dry  sand  belly. 
That  is  us, 
storm  sight 
cloud  obscured. 
But  Dollar  Brand  stands, 
a  South  African  man, 
in  touch  with  all  his  land 
and  space,  intones  us  to  feel 
the  immeasurable  mercy 
of  Allah:  O  play  Abdullah  Ibrahim, 
Compose  a 
prelude- 
humanity 
against 
all  odds. 

Frieda  Jones 


'^m  \ 


^l^-i-  m.mmm 


Photograph  by  Ed^ '  ' 


30     Drum 


BUTTERFLY  WINGS 

Love  flies  with  the  colored  wings  of  the  Butterfly. 
I  borrow  a  pair  and  take  flight. 

Her  wings  are  often  whimsical, 

Ephemeral, 

Flying  here,  there. 

Away. 

I've  bypassed  these. 

Mine  is  the  Butterfly,  landing 

When  he  has  discovered  that  special  flower 

holding  his  nectarous  existence. 

May  you  be  that  flower, 

And  I 

your  Butterfly, 

where  on  my  colored  wings 

in  a  benign  symbiosis  of  love. 

We'll  fly  above 

the  mundane  and  earthly  ills. 

Prospering,  Caring,  Loving. 


Last  nite 
I  tossed  through 
significant  dreams 
that  pointed  towards 
my  former  pain  with  you. 

It  still  lives 
inside  my  soul, 
rotting  away  my  insides 
and  asking  why?  how? 
and  getting  no  answers. 

I  sit  here 

wondering  why 

this  rift  between  us.  .  .  ? 

who  broke  the  spell 

we  cast  upon  each  other? 


Geneva  Mae  White 


Photographs  by  Edward  Coheri 

Drum     31 


■a 

c 
a 

c 
o 


Spirits  in  the  Street  I 


To  My  Friend 

12,  April  1976 

1:40  am 


My  Friend 
Your  face  drowned 
in 

silent  tears- 
it  is  not  your  time  to  smile. 
Your  terrestrial  high 
has 
de 
scend 
ed 
fifty  leagues  beneath 
seas  of  blue. 

Slowly 
pain 
envelops 
your  body's  desires/ 
quiet  wanting  to  speak/ 
be  with/ of  someone. 
My  friend- 
THE  CREATOR  HAS  A  MASTER  PLAN; 
We 
need  not  know  what  it  is, 

We 
need  only  to  come  unto  self  and 

believe. 
Through  belief, 
positivity  will  flow 
as 
the  con 
tin 
u 
ous 
thoughts 

through  the 
crevices 
of  your  troubled  mind. 
My  friend 
carefully  float 
above  the  sea 
float 
that 
the 
essence 

of 
blue 
will  not 
evade  you.  .  . 
that  one  day 
the  light  of  blue 
will 
shine 
unto  you. 
As-Salaam-Alaikum 

Zenola  Harper 


Decisions 

an  aura  beckons  us 

as  we  tread  from  here 

to  a  distant  place. 

we  follow  bent  fingers 

in  patterns  that  wind 

distortingly ; 

look  for  solid  ground 

and  stable  stars 

to  proclaim  our  journey 

definite. 

one  finds  a  comfortable 

place  to  rest 

and  dormantly  remains. 

another  is  reminded 

of  a  hiatus  in  the  past 

and  returns  to 

familiarity. 

and  we  follow  bent  fingers 

that  tell  us  to  try 

to  catch  up  to  ourselves. 


Jacqueline  L.  Jones 


Drum     33 


34     Brum 


Drum     35 


/  Remember  Yesterday; 

Yesterday  I  ran  on  youthful  legs 
through  a  field  of  golden  wheat,  and 
each  one  of  those  beautiful  plants 
held  hands  and  formed  a  golden 
carpet  especially  for  me.  When 
I  decided  I  no  longer  wanted  to 
run,  my  friend  the  wind  breathed 
her  light  summer  breezes,  carrying  me 
wherever  I  pleased  to  go. 

Yesterday  invisible  hands  visited  me  on  several 
occasions  bringing  cake  and  ice  cream,  and  even 
a  brand  new  dress.  I  never  worried  about  those 
hands  because  I  knew  they'd  always  return. 

Today  I  walk  through  a  cement  jungle  on  maturing  legs, 
and  each  pebble  makes  its  way  through  the  holes 
in  the  bottoms  of  my  shoes.  When  I  get  tired  of 
walking,  the  wind  blows  her  hot  heavy  breath  on  me 
sending  me  in  the  direction  she  pleases. 
Sometimes  I  land  at  the  unemployment  office, 
sometimes  to  a  new  house-cleaning  job. 

Today  invisible  hands  brought  my  gas,  light,  phone  bill, 
and  even  a  can  of  leftover  pork  and  beans.  I  worry 
about  those  hands  now,  because  I  know  they'll 
always  return. 

As  a  warm,  wet  tear  rolls  down  an  aging  face, 
landing  into  a  can  of  leftover  pork  and  beans, 
I  remember  yesterday. 

Sartreina  Cooper 


36     Drum 


Frank  Thornton 


Drum     37 


38     Drum 


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40     Drum 


Tribute  to  Fela  and  Afro-Beat 


Carl  Yates 


Hp  Ritual  II 


John  A.  Kendrick 


Chicago  Winter  Remembered 

Nipping  winds  of  January  come 

bluing  raw  lips  of  winter 

From  the  lake,  now  solid  Michigan 

ice  cracking  breaths  send  away 

the  cold:  "We  have  walked  four  winter  days 

deep  in  snow  carrying  a  pair 

of  shoes  and  a  box  of  tampons. " 

Preparing  for  our  future; 

fixing  our  footsteps  firmly.  Sometimes 

we  inch  on  along  slowly 

ignoring  the  lake,  now  solid 

Michigan,  sending  winter 

upon  us.  We  pause  between  buildings 

to  hide;  too  tired  to  retreat 

to  a  better  place.  Icicles  melt 

under  my  skirt-thick-opaque- 

rich-against  the  dark  brown  of  my  legs. 

Cassandra  West 


DANCE  (YOUNG  DIANA) 


Self  possessed  while  looking  inside  at  something  hip 
I  saw  me  moving 

You  can  move  for  the  right  reasons 
You  can  move  for  the  wrong  reasons  and  get  hurt  bad 
You  can  move  and  soothe  the  pain 
Move  rock  and  raise  a  child 
Move  reel  and  cop  an  attitude 

Somebody  watching  you  move  saw  you  cop  that  at- 
titude 

And  became  rich 
Don't  pretend  to  move 
Really  move  and  fake  them  out 

Bill  Hassan 


The  eve  of  the  unbirth  of  my  child 

I  sit, 

I  think, 

I  wonder  what  it  would  be  like 

To  have  this  seed  grow  round  inside  of  me- 

Kick,  tumble  and  turn. 

Then  to  have  it  emerge 

As  an  alive  human  being. 

To  hear  its  cries. 

To  see  the  first  trace  of  a  smile. 

And  to  feel  the  tender  soft  skin. 

To  watch  it  learn  and  grow 

And  suddenly  be  old  someday 

To  face  a  dreaded  decision  like  my  own. 

The  eve  of  the  unbirth  of  my  child 

I  cry. 

Why 

or 

Just  when  it  was 

But  remembering  still 

That  it  was  a  sweet  kiss. 

*************************************** 

After  it  was  finally  over- 
She  was  glad. 
She  fought  it  to  the  end. 
Crying  and  cursing  him  and  yet 
Loving  him. 

She  knew  if  she  could  just 
Do  the  right  thing 
Or  whisper  the  right  words, 
He  would  fall  to  his  knees 
And  realize  what  he  had  denied  them  both. 
The  months  of  frustration 
Turned  into  years 

And  love  became  a  gnawing  obsession. 
She  was  filled  with  need 
Until  one  day  she  realized 
It  was  not  the  need  of  him 
But  the  need  of  love  that  drove  her. 
Slowly,  she  stopped  the  pleas, 
The  nagging  and  the  tears, 
And  the  painful  gnawing  also  ceased. 
After  it  was  finally  over 
She  was  glad- 
For  then  she  was  reborn. 

Shelley  Y.  Johnson 


42     Drum 


Sunni— from  page  24 
should  wait,  but  Cissy  said  no  so  we 
kept  welkin'.  Cissy  was  walkin' 
real  fast  and  I  had  to  run  to  keep  up 
with  her.  She  laughed  at  me  and 
said  we  got  out  early  anyhow,  and 
we  would  probably  meet  Brown  on 
the  way,  but  she  still  walked  real 
fast.  We  got  up  to  Phil's  Candy 
Store  and  Ida  was  in  there. 

"Hey  y'all,  come  on  in  and  I'll  get 
you  some  jaw  breakers!"  I  was  go- 
ing to  go  on  in,  but  Cissy  hollered 
out,  "Another  time  Ida  we  gotta  be 
getting  home."  I  got  mad  with 
Cissy,  but  she  said  that  I  ate  too 
much  candy  anyway.  My  mind 
went  back  to  Brown,  cause  I  knew 
if  he  was  here  he  would  let  me  get 
some  jaw  breakers — and  then  I 
started  thinkin'  about  where  he 
could  be. 

We  turned  into  our  block  and 
there  was  a  crowd  of  folks  around 
our  stoop.  I  couldn't  see  much  of 
anything  and  went  to  run  off  into 
the  crowd,  but  Cissy  grabed  my 
hand  and  pulled  me  up  on  Miss 
Smith's  steps.  From  there  I  could 
see  everything.  Felicia  Roberts  was 
screamin'  and  cryin'  over  her  hus- 
band Ray  who  was  layin'  in  the 
street  bleeding.  Some  cop  had  his 
hands  on  Brown,  and  Brown  was 
yellin'  for  him  to  take  his  hands  off 
of  him. 

"Get  your  fuckin'  hands  off  me, 
cocksucker!!" 

"You  better  get  in  that  car 
monkey!!" 

"Hell  motherfuckin'  NO!!!!!!!! 
Brown  jerked  himself  away. 
Another  cop  came  'round  behind 
him  with  a  coke  bottle  in  his  hand. 
He  lifted  it  over  Brown's  head. 
"BROWN,  BROWN!!!!"  I  scream- 
ed, and  Browns'  blood  came  pour- 
ing out  of  his  head  like  water 
gushes  from  the  hydrants  in  sum- 
mer. I  pulled  away  from  Cissy  and 
tried  to  get  to  Brown. 

Brown  was  punchin'  one  cop  in 
the  face  and  ended  up  pickin'  up 
another  one  and  threw  him  onto  his 
car.  Jimmie  Burden  and  his  brother 
came  'round  from  behind  me  with 
bottles   and   bricks.   People   were 

hollering voices  screamed  from 

everywhere.  I  couldn't  tell  one  from 
another.  It  all  seemed  like  ONE 
LOUD  CRY.  Somebody  roared,  "Oh 
Shit!"  and  then  I  heard  a  shot.  The 
same   sound   I  heard  when  little 


Rickey  died  and  Sunni's  horn  cried. 
Help  Us,  Help  Us!!!  I  screamed  for 
Mama,  I  screamed  for  Cissy.  People 
kept  pushin'  me  away  from  the 
house,  but  I  could  still  see.  Brown 
was  on  the  ground.  I  kept  cryin'  for 
BROWN-BROWN-BROWN!!!  I  was 
hoUerin'  and  jumpin'  up  and  down. 
It  seems  that  something  entered  me 
and  wouldn't  let  me  go.  I  was  shak- 
ing and  trembling.  My  liuigs  ached. 
With  every  breath  I  took  the  pain 
reached  across  my  chest,  yet  I 
screamed  louder  and  louder.  I  pull- 
ed on  somebody's  pants  and  just 
hurled  myself  into  the  crowd, 
tumbling  like  a  trash  can  takin'  by 
the  wind.  Someone  stepped  on  my 
hand  and  the  pain  went  right 
through  me,  clearing  my  head,  and 
opening  my  nostrils.  I  couldn't  even 
cry.  I  felt  these  hands  on  me,  firm 
around  my  waist.  I  was  being  lifted. 
Seems  like  I  was  going  up  and  up 
and  up  real  high.  I  knew  then  I  was 
in  Simni's  hands. 

Folks  called  it  brutality,  and  I 
knew  what  they  meant.  I  saw  that 
bottle  in  those  white  hands,  as  it 
opened  Brown's  head.  I  saw  Ray's 
life  juices  flow  all  over  our  street. 
His  blood  is  only  a  faint  stain  in  the 
sidewalk  now;  but  sometimes  when 
I  pass  I  can  see  the  blood  filling  the 
cracks  in  the  pavement,  just  like  it 
did  that  Monday. 

Ray  died  a  few  days  later  and  the 
street  echoed  with  Felicia's  wails 
for  weeks.  I  thought  maybe  Brown 
was  gonna  die  too.  I  couldn't  keep 
nothin'  on  my  stomach,  cause  my 
fears  lived  in  my  stomach  and 
wouldn't  let  anything  else  in.  I 
couldn't  go  to  the  hospital  cause  I 
was  too  yoiuig,  but  Simni  told  me 
that  Brown  was  sittin'  up  and 
smilin'.  He  said  survival  was 
Brown's  resistance.  I  must  have 
looked  real  strange  cause  all  Sunni 
said  after  that  was  "A  change  is 
gonna  come." 

Summer  time  came  and  Brown 
was  in  prison.  Sunni  moved  away, 
but  came  back  some  nights  to  play 
his  horn.  Folks  draped  the  street  to 
listen  to  Sunni  talk.  Mama  let  me  sit 
on  the  stoop  with  her  and  we  had 
jugs  of  Kool-Aid  and  bags  of  nuts  to 
miuich  on.  One  night  when  Sunni 
came  around  we  all  took  turns 
singin'  and  dancin'  while  he  played 
his  horn.  Cissy  got  up  and  read  a 
poem  she  wrote  for  Sunni. 


Sunni's  got  a  new  thing  goin' 
See  him  there,  cuttin'  the  fool; 

He's  really  a  mean  dude. 
Last  night  Sunni  was 

blowwoowooin'  his  horn 

talkin  'bout  thems  that  got 
and  thems  that  not 
Sunni  says  we  thems  that  got. 
He  jammed  and  grooved  cooling  the 
smelting   pavements    and   heating 

the 

minds  of  Black  folk 

hangin'  out  windows 
sittin'  on  stoops 
Sunni  riffed  through  the  streets 
and  bomiced  in  the  alley, 
he  flew  across  the  roof 

then  got  down  in  the  basement. 
Yeah,  Sunni  got  a  thing  goin'  on 
Rappin'  to  Black  folk  'bout  solid 

things 
Like  REV-0-LU-TION! !!!!!!!!! 

A  New  Love,  A  New  Season 

for  22  million  ex-slaves. 


Everybody  clapped  real  loud  for 
Cissy,  and  Simni  gave  her  a  kiss  on 
the  cheek.  He  played  his  horn  long 
and  low.  Mama  smiled  and  I  fell 
asleep  on  Mama's  lap,  thinkin' 
'bout  Brown  and  how  I  wished  he 
was  home. 


Drum     43 


44     Drum 


Drum     45 


LAZARO 

aqui  estoy  en  la  vanguardia  de  los  presos, 
atado  y  escapando, 
orando  y  maldiciendo, 
viviendo  el  resto  de  mi  cuerpo 
medio  muerto. 

"Lazaro,  levantate  y  dispara. " 

Es  un  grito  que  me  personaliza. 

Espera! 
Hoy,  soy  el  arquetipo,  la  pregunta; 
manana,  al  hombre  que  hoy  quisiera, 
la  respuesta. 


LAZARUS 

Here  I  am  among  the  vanguard  of  prisoners, 

rope-bound  yet  breaking  loose, 

praying  yet  cursing, 

my  trapped  half-dead  body  only  half  alive. 

"Lazarus,  get  up  and  shoot. " 

That  warscream  makes  me  real,  concrete. 
Hold  on! 

Today  Im  only  an  archetypical  question; 
tomorrow  III  be  the  man  Td  like  to  be: 
the  answer  itself. 


TVYYOY  TODOS 

Hice  crecer  mis  dedos  tratando  de  alcanzarte 
y  converti  los  ojos  en  una  hoguera  abierta 
para  que  hubiera  luz: 
te  tuve  entonces  cerca. 

Quise  hacerte  sentir  todo  mi  nombre 
y  con  una  hacha  rompi  cientos  de  huesos 
del  escombo  que  era  yo 
cuando  me  hacia  difisil. 

En  el  fondo  vi  que  eramos  muchos 
picando  a  dentelladas  el  silencio. 
Y  abriendo  por  los  labios  de  la  noche 
un  gran  camino. 

corrimos  tu  y  yo,  y  todos  nosotros, 

asesinando  yardas  de  terreno 

sin  prestarle  atencion  al  flaco  viento, 

que  al  vemos  de  las  manos  de  los  ostros 

colgar  como  un  helecho, 

detuvo  su  marcha; 

y,  encorvado, 

lloro  la  ausencia  de  recuerdos. 


YOU  AND  I  AND  EVERYONE 

I  made  my  fingers  grow  trying  to  reach  you 
and  changed  my  eyes  in  burning  charcoal  pits 
into  light. 
Then  I  got  you  close. 

I  wanted  to  make  you  feel  all  my  name. 

So  with  an  ax  I  broke  hundreds  of  bones 

that  were  fragments  of  what 

1  was  when  1  used  to  make  myself  incomprehensible  to  you. 

At  rock  bottom  I  saw  that  we  were  many 
persons  biting  silence  with  our  teeth 
and  opening  through  the  lips  of  night 
a  huge  passage. 

We  dl  ran,  you  and  I  and  everyone 

assassinating  distances 

and  ignoring 

the  skinny  wind  who 

in  seeing  us  hanging  from  each  others'  hands 

like  fem-leaues  from  a  stem 

stopped 

and  bending  dawn 

whined  over  the  absence  of  memories. 


IE  PREGUNTO  A  UN  HERMANO 

Te  pregunto,  hermano, 

hacia  donde  volcare  mis  ojos 

manana  cuando  el  sol  traicione 

la  espalda  de  los  monies. 

Te  pregunto  hacia  donde 

porque  han  muerto  los  caminos 

y  no  hay  puertos  en  las  orillas  de  los  mares. 

Te  pregunto,  hermano, 

porque  tengo  que  partir  hacia  algun  lado, 

solicitar  un  rumbo; 

y  se  me  ha  hecho  tarde. 

"Hacia  mi,  companero, 

hacia  mi  que  te  llevo  a  los  ostros  hermanos. " 


TO  A  BROTHER 

I'm  asking  you,  brother, 

where  I  can  turn  my  eyes 

tomorrow  when  the  lit  sun  betrays 

the  mountains'  backbone. 

I'm  asking  you  where 

because  all  the  roads  are  dead 

and  there  are  no  jetties  on  the  oceanfronts. 

I'm  asking  you,  brother, 

because  I've  got  to  go  someplace, 

I  have  to  find  the  route, 

my  time  is  running  out. 

"Come  towards  me,  comrade, 

I'll  take  you  to  the  rest  of  the  brothers. " 


Poems  by  Miguel  A.  Rivera 


46     Drum 


Untitled  Song  of  Love 
(for  charlene) 

i  am  a  reaper  of  nights 

giving  birth  to  its  song,  ' 

and  i  scream  with  mourning 

turning  in  seasons. 

i  am  a  reaper  of  broken  colors 

that  trap  love  in  these  eyes  of  meaning- 

these  eyes  soft  as  dew, 

faint  as  breath  exhumed  in  bendings  of  the  wind, 

glistening  silently 

as  whispers  of  rain  are  the  sky  s  barren  voices. 

and  in  these  seasons 

death  is  carrion  laced  on  static  wings 

spat  upon  the  horizon. 

once  when  earth  was  again  naked 

there  was  you  as  there  was 

eye, 

and  our  dance  was  ripe  with  rhythm; 

it  was  supple  as  water  teasing  the  shore.  .  . 

fanciful  like  haitian  markets  that  sweep  colors 

into  air. 

and  i/eye 

i  am  a  dreamer,  this  night, 
my  love  splinters  in  smiles 
and  is  naked 

a  prism  raw  upon  an  ebbing  shore, 
this  feeling  grows  vain  against  its  laughter, 
tattered  like  memories  of  aging  words, 
but  it  writhes  and  seethes  with  smew, 
and  i  am  with  love 
in  this  bending  night  of  dreams. 

thomas  waiter  lones 


Drum      47 


CCEBS  Door:  Honor  to  the  Ancients 


Margarita  Vargas 


48     Drum 


o 

■a 

c 


Spirits  in  the  Street  II 


CCEBS  1978  GRADUATES 

The  committee  for  the  Collegiate  Education  of  Black  Students  (CCEBS)  would  like  to  congratulate  the  Class  of 
1978.  This  year's  graduation  exercises  will  mark  the  sixth  time  that  CCEBS  students  will  receive  their  diplomas 
from  this  institution.  It  is  our  most  fervent  hope  that  this  year's  graduating  students  will  be  as  successful  in  their 
career  and  life  pursuits  as  their  predecessors  have  been.  Many  of  you  have  been  accepted  into  graduate  and  profes- 
sional schools  and  some  of  you  have  decided  to  take  positions  in  the  business  and  corporate  commimity.  But,  no  mat- 
ter what  you  have  decided  to  do,  you  must  realize  that  you  are  truly  fortunate  to  have  the  opportmiities  you  now 
have  before  you.  It  is  imperative  that  you  take  advantage  of  them.  It  is  of  the  utmost  importance  that  you  continue  to 
strive  for  intellectual  and  personal  growth.  It  is  also  very  necessary  that  you  never  forsake  those  who  have  helped 
you  to  progress  this  far.  Remember,  you  do  have  a  responsibility  to  your  family,  friends,  classmates,  and  the 
academic  advisers  that  have  aided  you  during  your  imdergraduate  years.  Make  them  as  proud  as  other  former  pro- 
gram graduates  have.  We  now  have  alumni  who  have  earned  doctorates  in  medicine,  education,  dentistry,  and 
psychology.  We  have  alumni  whose  activities  range  from  being  on  the  staff  of  the  Mayo  Clinic  to  serving  as  ex- 
ecutives of  International  Telegraph  and  Telephone.  CCEBS  alumni  are  now  principals  of  schools,  administering  na- 
tional education  programs,  and  working  in  academic  support  programs  at  other  colleges  and  imiversities.  Many 
others  are  making  contributions  to  their  conununities  by  working  in  public  service  agencies.  I  highlight  these  ac- 
tivities so  that  you  will  realize  that  you  have  a  lot  of  "hard-acts"  to  follow.  But,  I  know  you  can  do  it.  The  CCEBS  staff 
and  your  families  believe  that  you  represent  a  new  "elite."  You  symbolize  the  hope  and  desire  for  a  brighter  future, 
which  we  all  share. 

So,  go  forward  and  never  be  afraid.  Remember,  there  is  no  progress  without  struggle.  As  Arna  Bontemps  said 
in  his  poem  "Nocturne  at  Bethesda," 

"The  golden  days  are  gone.  Why  do  we  wait 

So  long  upon  the  marble  steps,  blood 

Falling  from  our  open  woimds?  and  why 

Do  our  black  faces  search  the  empty  sky? 

Is  there  something  we  have  forgotten? 

Some  precious  thing  we  have  lost. 

Wandering  in  strange  lands?" 


Marjorie  B.  Barnes 
Donald  Byrd 
Giselene  Charles 
Sook  N.  Choo 
Stephen  J.  Cleary 
Michael  E.  Coblyn 
Mary  E.  Custard 
Alexander  L.  Daughtery 
Dendra  L  DeWitt 
Keith  B.  Dixon 
Juan  R.  Durruthy 
Karl  A.  Erikson 
Lawrence  J.  Erith  Jr. 
Judith  Grillo 


(Adele  D.  Hall) 

Arifah  N.  Rasool 
Ariel  Hall 

Charles  W.  Johnson  Jr. 
Lilia  Kowalsky 
Gregory  C.  Maynard 
Jay  H.  Newsome 
Carol  R.  Reliford 
Joseph  C.  Rocheteau 
Lizzie  N.  Shell 
Johnnie  C.  Simmons 
Bobby  J.  Stoval 
Mitchell  L.  West 
Consuelo  Y.  Williams 


Good  luck. 

Dr.  Michael  Ll*Jackson 
Executive  Director 
Committee  for  the  Collegiate 
Education  of  Black  Students 

Kelly  J.  Wright 
LaVerne  D.  Mitchell 
Lloyd  W.  Alford 
Frank  Anderson 
Lisa  M.  Clarke 
Aundre  L.  Clinton 
Walter  Howard  ILL 
Judy  A.  Jones 
Hubert  L.  Kelly 
Lenora  Mobley 
Elaine  Nichols 
Yvonne  (Brown)  Powell 
Michael  B.  Pyatt 
Samuel  C.  Rivers 


50     Drum 


SPLICED 

Like  you, 

those,  who  care, 

live  spliced 

into  the  mountain, 

going  to  the  top, 

always, 

with  everybody  else, 

equal  step 

for  equal  step. 

With  wild  flowers 
in  your  hair, 
don't  look  back! 

The  plains  are  bare; 

the  hopeful, 

like  the  sky, 

are  all  around  you. 


I 


Andrew  Sa\ke\) 


Darlene  Y.  Spencer 
Vickie  T.  Taylor 
Melvin  S.  Downes 
Broderic  O.  Grant 
Judy  Yee 

Albert  M.  Morrishow 
Linda  J.  Stalker 
Geraldine  Blocker 
Valinda  T.  Cannady 
Cathy  Crosby 
Toni  J.  Johnson 
Kim  O'Quinn 
Sharon  Turpin 


LOVE  LAST  FOREVER 

It  must  be  my  fault 

because  you  are  gone 

and  I  am  left  alone 

I  won't  lie 

I  love  you  more  than  I  realize 

The  love  I  feel  for  you 

will  never  die 
It  will  last  as  long 

as  creation 
cause  it  is  given  to  us  by  the  Creator 
I  die  each  time  our  paths  split 
but  new  life  is  found 
through  an  undying  love 
I  am  so  sorry 
I  can't  meet  your  desires^ 
for  whatever  you  want  you  should  have 
My  arms  are  open 
You  may  come  to  me  or  another 
Don't  worry  about  me 
cause  I  love  you  enough 
to  want  you  to  be  satisfied 

Annie  Carpenter 


Drum      5/ 


ALONE 


Whenever 

I 

Am  Alone 

My 

Mind  Wanders 

To  Visit  Friends 

And  Family.  Our  Reunions 

Are  Always  Nice;  We  Smile 

And  Laugh-Reminiscing  of  the  Past 

Until  Again  My  Mind  Wanders 

Back  Into  The  Present 

And  Once  Again 

I  Am 

Alone. 

Harold  Massea 


Photograph  by  Debbie  L 


52     Drum 


"Bird  and  Bud  and  Minton's" 

During  the  1940's  Minton's  playhouse  on  118th  Street  &  7th  Avenue  in  Harlem, 
was  one  of  the  places  where  Charlie  Parker,  Bud  Powell  and  many  other 
master  musicians  developed  the  classic  music  known  as  Bebop. 


Freida  Jones 


Drum     53 


ROOTS 


roots— the  base  of  existence: 

the  foundation  on  which  to  build; 

the  backbone  of  our  being:  the  heart. 

to  follow  our  lives  backward  in  time: 

to  learn  from  past  failures  and  accomplishments: 

to  trace  the  Tree  back  to  the  very  beginning. 

perhaps  we'd  all  be  surprised  to  find 
our  roots  were  all  one  and  the  same. 

Barbara  Jeffcoat 


The  literature  which  I  am  introducing  are  poems  from  brothers  at  Walpole  State  penitentiary.  Society  has  exclud- 
ed or  tended  to  isolate  these  artistically  inclined  inmates.  Drum  has  drawn  special  attention  to  these  prisoners  and 
has  given  them  the  recognition  in  which  they  deserve.  We  the  members  of  Drum  have  the  knowledge  and  the  ap- 
preciation of  the  quality  of  your  work.  We  are  aware  of  the  condensed  language  your  poetry  portrays.  We  hear  and 
see  your  instantaneous  convictions. 

Brothers,  you  have  helped  us  to  help  you  communicate  and  contribute  your  talents  to  the  outside  world. 


We  Made  Music 

we  made  music 

to  be  in  rhythm  with  life 

to  laugh 

to  smile 

to  hum  a  natural  tune 

to  a  natural  song 

to  get  a  mellow  feeling 

from  a  soul  searching 

musical  dream 

of  perpetual  happiness 

WE.  .  .  MADE  .  .  .  MUSIC 


WE  MADE  MUSIC 

to  give  life 

where  life  was  gone 

to  give  hope 

where  hope  was  gone^ 

to  give  a  sing-a-long 

with  Aretha 

for  we  fell 

from  a  bridge 

into  trouble  waters 


Her  Feelings 

Say  brother!  Do  you  understand  your 

woman's  feelings? 

Do  you  know  how  she  feels,  when  you  her 

man  is  gone,  and  she  feels  empty,  or  when 

she  feels  blue? 

That's  right  brother,  no  man  knows 

when  trouble  call  and  he  isn't  there, 

no  man  knows 

when  his  woman  is  trying,  while  he  is 

gone. 

No  man  knows  his  woman's  hurt  and  pain. 

Why? 

Because  no  man  really  cares  enough  to 

give  a  damn. 

Yes  no  man  knows  his  woman's  suffering 

when  she's  in  need  of  his  love. 

No  man  knows  when  his  woman's  heart  aches 

and  her  lips  are  silent. 

Yes  no  man  knows,  that  his  woman  really 

tries,  no  man  knows  her  tears,  or  how  she 

feels  inside.  No  man  knows,  because  no  man 

takes  time  to  give  a  damn. 

Richard  Alston 


Our  vocalcords 

harmonize 

with  divine  togetherness 

formulating 

a  beautiful  scale 

of  sweet  soulful  sounds 

which  penetrates 

the  ears  of  man 

and  brings  life 

as  a  musical  breath  of  air. 


and  rode  the  waves 

with  Our  guitars 

Our  drums 

Our  dreams 

and  our  natural  voices 

So,  we  made  music 


Omar  Abdullah 
(Clemis  Franks) 


Drum      55 


56     Drum 


FESTAC  1977,  Lagos,  Nigeria 


FESTAC  1977,  Lagos,  Nigeria 


Drum     57 


-I 


block  Sy  bia^hjcfb'i   > 
ingjhenMfT^ik&Jace,  M 


Extendei 

•staring^ 

,/i^e  an':pinfikig 

,  rstt Y  one-' of  fS^^i^g-  u^-^ri^j^Jwiives 

'of  a  gradually  ^nfoldihg  fiattattuf 

of  connecting  recognition'  *" 

or  merely  ^pcumentirig.  '.  : 

some  egoceritric  salt  shocx  orroth^f 

or  merely  informing  us,  ', 

tellirig  us  compassionately, 

now  and  then,  of  this'  or  that 

massive- land  reclamation 

or'-alterHative  structural  reform 

or  merely,  diverting  us 

with  one  travel  entertainment 

or  another,  here  and  there, 

for  an  easy-passing  hour  or  two, 

but  rather  of  making 
,  their  vieud  of ;the  wjorld  of  stone      ^ ,     , ,.   ..       _  ^     _ 

imaginatively,  empathetically,  ouj^fdwii'  j:^;^-.!  •^- '.?,'.* 

by  startling  the  whole  undersea  range 

of  the  nerve-ends  of  our  conscience 

and  leaving  us  slowly  emerging 

in  a  state  of  permanent  change. 


■^^4 


'-li^  ..^%' "■■■'•• 


■  .     /      ■.•    h'  ■    *    '^    !^ 


Andrew  Salkey 


58     Drum 


The  Ethiopian 

I  do  not  belong  here. 

My  soul  is  heavy. 
Will  they  change  me? 

The  secret  song  is  always  in  her  heart. 
She  remembers  Home — where  the  sun  shone 
Fierce  against  her  naked  breasts.  Home, 
Where  she  would  he  a  princess,  not  a  slave. 
Home,  where  the  flame  trees  burned. 

I  do  not  belong. 

Here,  my  soul  is  heavy. 

They  will  change  me. 

The  grating  words  are  always  in  her  head. 

She  was  unique.  Her  hair  flowed  like  the  Nile, 

Her  skin  was  black  as  onyx.  She  became 

the  one  the  master  craved.  Nine  times 

She  pushed  his  life  from  her  womb,  and  she  is  tired. 

I  do  not  belong. 

My  soul  is  heavy. 

Here,  they  have  changed  me. 

The  droning  chant  is  always  on  her  lips. 

She  mutters  it.  Her  hands,  like  withered  birds. 

Flutter  softly  in  her  lap.  Her  hollow 

Eyes  gaze  at  a  graying  ash  tree. 

It  stands,  dying,  in  the  dusty  yard. 

My  soul  is  heavy. 
Change  me. 

Camilla  Parham 


Drum     59 


60     Drum 


Mviral  Program  1977:  Paintings  on  Doors 


Margarita  Vargas 


7b/i's,  the  beast 


in  you" 

big  bad  funky  beast 
getting  down 
singing,  dancing 
doing  the  double  bump 
kissing,  laughing,  loving,  praying 
playing  the  part  of  Jesus  Christ 
on  Sunday 

focusing  on  the  immaculate  concep- 
tion 
of  Nuclear  Warheads 

you  are 

the  humanitarian  of  death 
Ihlis,  that  diabolical  beast 
in  living  technicolor 
instilling  his  very  being 
into  the  minds  of  the  people 
choking  them  to  death 
into  a  subconscience  reality 
a  dream  land 

making  monsters  out  of  them 
that  encroach  upon  society 
stealing  their  Welfare  Checks 
and  their  underwear 

Dracula,  Frankenstein 

the  Pope  of  Rome 

Jack  the  Ripper,  ripping  off  America 

and  sucking  the  blood  out  of 

its  vital  organs 

Getting  high  &  high  &  high 

&  high  &  high 

and  falling  off  into  a  nod 

into  oblivion 

not  knowing  if  you're  coming 

or  going  or  gone 

big  bad  funky  beast 
trying  to  blow  Gabriel's  horn 
but  not  knowing  the  tune 
blowing  his  nose  instead 

trying  to  become  a  magician 

ab-bra-cadabra 

open  sesame 

pin  the  tail  on  the  donkey 

stick  the  pin  in  the  doll 

and  puff 

this  society  is  turned 

into  a  bag  of  fags, 

with  high  heel  shoes 

and  pocketbooks 


preying  on  the  educated 

the  ignorant 

and  the  silent  majority 

that  haven't  got  enough  sense 

to  stop  playing 

Casper,  the  friendly  ghost 

or  Silent  Man 

or  Silent  Mind 

because  everybody's  dropping  a  dime 

being  a  rat 

watch  me  pull  a  rabbit 

out  of  my  hat 

big  bad  funky  beast 

I  know  you 

Here  is  wisdom. 

Let  him  that  have  understanding 

count  the  number  of  the  beast; 

for  it  is  the  number  of  a  man. 


Awake 

Awake  Black  brothers  from  this  sleep 
you  sleep. 

Can't  you  hear  your  black  women 
crying? 

I  have  heard  their  cries. 
I  have  seen  your  women,  awaiting  for 
relief 
for  a  job 

for  you  their  men  to  awaken  from  the 
dead. 

Yes,  I  have  heard  their  cries  because 
it's  late. 

Because  they  can't  feed  their  babies. 
Yes  they  are  awaiting  for  you  their 
men  to  awake,  because  they're  tired  of 
maybe's  and  later  on's. 
Isn't  it  time  you  awaken  and  stop  per- 
mitting whitey  to  destroy  what  little 
pride    you    have    to    defend.    Prove 
yourself  to  be  black  men  and  lend  her 
your  hand. 

Richard  Alston 


Omar  Abdullah 
(Clemis  X.  Franks) 


Drum     61 


62     Drum 


Andrew  WoolfolK 


These  are  just  a  few  of  the  songs 
that  exemplify  Earth,  Wind  and  Fire 
as  the  leading  group  of  today.  All  'N 
All  We  love  you 


Al  McKay 


Drum     63 


^' 


ss^ 


ii^     '^9HIh 

N 


i^-  ^& 


Frank  Thornton 


(J'^     Drum 


"/  have  returned  to  BUILD  a  Pyramid" 


Carl  Yates 
Drum     65 


Feelings 


It's  difficult  to  choose  a  world 

when  you're  scared  to  take  a  step, 
but  it's  even  harder  to  make  a  choice, 

without  ever  having  a  regret: 
living  with  regret  is  not  hard, 

but  when  your  feelings  do  come  through, 
who  can  tell  you  how  to  act, 

or  just  what  it  is  you'll  do — 

The  feelings  that  I  have  for  you, 

are  feelings  hard  to  show, 
the  expression  that  is  on  my  face, 

may  not  be  the  one  you  know, 
I'm  touched  by  your  concern  for  me, 

but  never  by  your  hand, 
allow  me  to  enter  your  mind  one  day, 

maybe  then  you'll  understand 

Let's  not  do  it  through  the  phone  this  time, 

or  photographs  or  ink, 
yes,  why  not  try  it  through  our  mind, 

just  tell  me  what  you  think; 

it's  not  that  hard  to  visualize, 

the  obstacles  you  have  gone  through; 
perhaps  it  hasn't  dawned  on  you, 

I  may  have  faced  them  too. 


Barbara  Jeffcoat 


66     Drum 


You're  Perfect  My  Love 


You  must  have  come  from 

a  distant  point  on  Rigel, 
for  I  could  never  have 

imagined  anyone  as  divine  as  you — 

a  complexion  as  clear 

and  as  gold  as  honey; 
eyes  like  deep  black  coal, 

with  a  single  flame 

burning  within  their  midst; 
an  angelic  face, 

one  that  would  make  even  Eros  feel  inferior. 

You  make  my  days,  my  nights,  and  my  life, 
You  are  perfection  my  love, 
and  our  love  is  indeed  perfect. 


a  body  like  none  I've  ever  seen, 

as  stern  and  firm  and  strong  as  a  tree; 

a  mind  as  complex  as  a  computer 

yet  you  make  everything  seem  so  simple; 

and  your  soul  my  love,  is  like  a  church, 
always  open  and  full  of  faith. 

You  make  my  days,  my  nights,  and  my  life. 
You  are  perfection  my  love, 
and  our  love  is  indeed  perfect. 

Barbara  Jeffcoat 


Photograph  by  Edward  Cohen 


Drum     67 


We  were  trying  to 
find  the  functionai 
art.  In  this  quest  I 
ran  into  a  door  and 
then  many  more— 
but  not  a  maze, 
rather  an  ordered 
function  based  on 
its  reality.  For  me 
the  spirituality  of 
the  image/doors  of 
Totems.  Totems 
fashioned  with  a 
memory  of  Middle 
Passage  Portholes, 
structured  lil<e  Afro- 
American  Turf 
Boards  and  Shields 
to  protect  in  the 
Wilderness  of  North 
America.  1  deal  in 
substructures  since 
understanding  Mid- 
dle Kingdom  Egyp- 
tian painting  and  ex- 
amining the  order  of 
the  doors  of  the  Oba 
of  Benin. 

There  are  other 
l<inds  of  bridges 
than  those  which 
span  water  and  con- 
nect land.  There  are 
bridges  which  span 
time  and  space  to 
connect  souls.  And 
so  doors  have 
become  my  bridges. 
Nelson  Stevens 


68     Drum 


Step  Back  in  Real  Joy,  Turf-Board  Series 


Nelson  Stevens 


What  is  an  Eno?— from  page  28 
word  of  mouth  communication,  and 
the  famous  "talking  drums."  All 
ties  with  Afrika  were  supposedly 
severed.  But,  Afrikanism  did  sur- 
vive, and  can  be  seen  in  the  voice  of 
the  drum  and  the  dancing  in  the 
churches  of  the  South. 

The  characteristics  of  Afrikan 
dance  also  remain  the  same:  1] 
bent  knees,  with  the  body  close  to 
the  earth;  2)  the  use  of  the  whole 
foot  and  immediate  transfer  of 
weight;  3]  the  isolation  of  body 
parts  in  movement;  4)  the 
rhythmically  complex  and  syn- 
copated movement;  5)  the  carrying 
of  as  many  as  two  or  three  rhythms 
in  the  body  at  once  (poly-rhythm);  6) 
the  music  and  dance  as  a  single  ex- 
pression; 7]  the  individualism  of 
style  within  a  group  style;  and  8) 
the  fimctionalism  (becoming  the  art 
of  "real  life".)  Fimctionalism  can- 
not be  understated,  for  Afrikans 
have  always  known  that  the  dance 
is  not  just  to  have,  but  also  to  be. 
Lee  Warren  also  says  that  "a  sense 
of  community  is  more  basic  in 
African  culture  than  it  is  in  our 
own.  Each  member  of  a  society 
understands  his  role  as  one  unit 
that  is  part  of  a  whole.  This  com- 
mitment to  a  mutually  shared  loyal- 
ty, this  awareness  of  who  one  is, 
can  be  envied  by  Americans 
bedevilled  with  an  identity  crisis. 
The  torment  of  isolation  is  uncom- 
mon in  traditional  African  com- 
munities." With  the  exception  of 
the    wizard    or    priest   who   does 


dance  alone,  Afrikans  do  not  usual- 
ly dance  for  someone,  but  rather, 
with  them. 

Of  the  two  settings,  the  church 
and  the  social  gathering,  the 
church  has  remained  much  more 
traditional  in  terms  of  Afrikan 
dance  (though  not  called  dance 
because  it  was  considered  to  be 
sinful) — free  almost  entirely  from 
other  influences. 

"The  European  influences  on  the 
dance  expression  of  the  slaves 
came  primarily  through  specific 
steps  from  European  folk  sources. 
When  the  traditional  African 
characteristics  of  rhythmic  com- 
plexity and  syncopation  were  com- 
bined with  some  of  the  movements 
of  the  European  folk  dances,  the 
first  development  was  tap  dance  in 
the  mid  1800's.  More  precisely,  tap 
dance  was  the  earliest  tangible 
development  we  are  aware  of.  I  am 
sure  that  hundreds  of  other 
developments  occured  which  were 
never  popularized  or  seen  by 
whites  and  therefore  were  not  in- 
stitutionalized in  any  way.  The 
point  about  the  institutionalization 
of  dance  is  an  important  one.  The 
beginnings  of  jazz  dances  for  many 
people  equalled  its  appearance  on 
stage.  For  these  people,  the  dance 
did  not  exist  until  it  had  gained  the 
sanction  of  a  socially  accepted 
white  institution," — as  stated  by 
Nontsizi  Cayou,  in  her  book, 
"Modern  Jazz  Dance." 

It  is  Ms.  Cayou's  last  statement 
that  I  think  bears  the  crux  of  pro- 


blems that  arise  in  the  presentation 
of  traditional  Pan-Afrikan  dance  or 
the  true  dances  done  among 
themselves  by  Afrikans.  The  fact 
that  Afrikans,  in  the  United  States 
especially,  do  not/have  not/will  not 
build  institutions  to  preserve  their 
own  cultural  movements  and 
dances  is  because  of  the  lack  of 
financial  resources.  The  capitalism 
that  still  enslaves  our  brothers  and 
sisters  in  Mozambique  and  Azania 
and  pits  our  own  against  our  own  in 
the  various  forms  of  neo- 
colonialism, only  offers  further  suf- 
frage to  Black  people  the  world 
over.  Our  mothers  have  told  us  that 
we  don't  put  a  fire  out  with  another 
fire,  but  with  water.  In  the  face  of 
vicious  hatred,  we  must  exhibit 
supreme  love.  .  .  for  ourselves.  In 
the  face  of  fear,  we  must  show  a 
warrior-like  courageousness.  In  the 
face  of  disunity,  we  must  hold 
ourselves  steady  with  faith,  prayer, 
and  patience.  At  the  center  of  these 
stand  our  art  forms,  our  image- 
makers.  They  can  sway  us  one  way 
or  another.  Our  art  forms  can  rock 
us  passively  to  sleep,  or  they  can 
rock  us  actively  into  overt  action. 
We  image-makers  have  an  impor- 
tant role.  Do  we  carry  our  role  as 
our  ancient  ancestors  did,  bravely, 
and  if  necessry,  against  all  odds  for 
the  sake  of  the  commimity?  Or,  will 
we  lay  down  our  arms  and  submit 
to  the  ravishing  neon  lights  and 
American  corporate  individual- 
ism? This  is  my  question  to  you.  For 
I,  am  "Eno." 


Drum     69 


Staff  Collage 


Margarita  Vargas 


70     Drum 


FESTAC  1977 


Reflections  by 

Nelson  Stevens 
Documented  by 

Lisa  DiRocco 


The  Second  World  Black  and 
African  Festival  of  Arts  and 
Culture,  or  FESTAC  77,  took  place 
in  Lagos,  Nigeria  from  January  I3 
to  February  12,  1977;  15,000  ar- 
tists from  57  lands  assembled  to 
share  their  variegated  creations 
and  ideas  and  to  realize  and  take 
pride  in  our  common  heritage. 

For  the  official  opening  of 
FESTAC  77  in  the  National 
Stadium,  60,000  spectators 
assembled  to  witness  over  two 
hours  of  colorful  regalia,  music, 
dancing  and  songs  as  the  con- 
tingents from  each  country  parad- 
ed around  the  huge  track,  carrying 


their  nation's  flag  and  its  banner, 
and  wearing  national  costumes. 

They  stopped  before  the  receiv- 
ing stand  holding  Lt.  General 
Olusegun  Obasanjo,  Nigeria's  head 
of  state  and  Festac's  official  host, 
plus  other  dignitaries  representing 
foreign  lands;  the  groups  paused 
while  acrobats  or  dancers  enter- 
tained the  officials  and  the  au- 
dience. 

The  procession  was  led  by  an 
Ethiopian  sword  carrier  and  ended 
with  Nigerian  dancers  balancing 
flaming  urns  on  their  heads.  In  be- 
tween were  Brazilian  women 
costumed  for  Mardi  Gras,  Gui- 
neans  walking  on  14  foot  stilts, 
Aborigines  from  Australia,  belly 
dancers  and  acrobats  from  Egypt. 
After  each  nation  introduced  itself 
to  the  audience  in  its  own  way,  the 
diverse  peoples  walked  arornid  the 
track  together.  A  lone  rimner, 
dressed  as  Shango,  the  Yoruba  god 
of  thimder  and  lightning,  carried  a 
flame  to  the  roof  of  the  stadium  to 
light  a  huge  torch,  and  1,000 
pigeons  were  freed  into  the  air. 

The  American  artists  repre- 
sented 24  states;  among  them  were 
Nelson  Stevens  of  the  University  of 
Massachusetts  Art  and  WEB 
DuBois  Departments  and  Bernard 
Bell  of  the  UMass  English  Depart- 
ment. The  participants  caught  a 
glimpse  of  the  constellation  of 
black  artists  scattered  around  the 
globe,  and  returned  to  the  U.S.  re- 
juvenated with  international 
horizons. 


***** 


I  had  known  about  \he  planning 
0/  YESIAC  for  many  years  and 
although  I  had  no  doubt  it  would 
tafte  place,  the  question  was 
always  "when."  The  only  thing  I 
was  sure  0/  was  that  whenever  it 
would  take  place,  I  wanted  to  be 
there;  not  only  because  it  would  be 
the  largest  world  festival  of  the 
arts,  but  for  other  reasons  which 
are  more  profound.  It  is  well  known 
to  most  African  Americans  that  the 
vast  majority  of  us  came  from 
GUINEA  COAST.  And  Nigeria,  the 
host  of  FESTAC  '77  is  central  to  this 


location.  So  in  a  sense  it  is  a  rever- 
sal of  the  process — going  past  the 
auction  block  and  the  middle 
passage  and  returning  home  after 
four  hundred  years. 

Another  reason  for  my  great  an- 
ticipation has  to  do  with  the  culture 
of  YOEUBA-LAND.  The  Yoruba 
heritage  of  transported  blacks  has 
survived  the  middle  passage 
journey  and  makes  itself  felt  from 
Brazil  and  Haiti  as  well  as  New 
York  City.  I  think  of  the  Yoruba 
GOD  of  Thunder  SHANGO  every 
time  I  look  from  my  NEW  ENGLAND 
window  to  witness  "the  Devil 
beating  his  wife".  It  was  also  this 
area  of  the  world  that  produced  the 
art  forms  which  have  revolutioniz- 
ed the  twentieth  century  concepts 
of  art  and  aesthetics.  All  these 
things  were  going  through  my  head 
at  the  ].F.  Kennedy  airport  in 
January  1977  where  Jeff  Donaldson 
had  started  to  explain  some  of  the 
experiences  that  we  could  an- 
ticipate as  participants  in  FESTAC 
77. 

A  sister  in  the  group  asked  about 
Nigerian  food  and  water  in 
reference  to  health.  Jeff  replied, 
"We  have  been  eating  bad  food  for 
so  long  that  when  we  get  some  good 
food  some  of  us  will  probably  get 
sick." 

Not  many  of  us  got  sick  and  most, 
if  not  all,  satisfied  our  personal  and 
collective  goals.  The  only  drawback 
I  can  imagine  is  that  about  two  hun- 
dred of  us  who  attended  FESTAC 
on  the  first  flight  to  LAGOS  missed 
seeing  Alex  Haley's  Roots.  I  do  not 
think  it  a  drawback  in  any  sense, 
for  personally,  for  three  weeks  I 
felt  like  the  whole  tree  with  deep 
strong  and  healthy  roots. 

Our  contingency  of  200  Afro 
Americans  were  delivered  outside 
the  stadium  to  participate  in  the 
procession.  We  stood  amid  lines  of 
costumed  participants  being  view- 
ed by  great  crowds  of  Nigerians, 
assembled  to  watch  the  festivities. 
We  arranged  ourselves  along  side 
the  people  from  Zaire,  men  and 
women  dressed  entirely  in  green 
garb,  sporting  the  silkscreened  por- 
trait of  their  country's  president. 


Drum     71 


Each  representative  group,  with 
the  exception  of  the  U.S.  wore  such 
unifying  and  identifying  costumes.  I 
became  very  conscious  of  this,  but 
recognized  our  group  as  having  our 
own  unique  dress  too.  The  'uni- 
forms' we  wore  varied  according  to 
life  styJes  of  the  Afro  Americans 
present.  We  hod  peopie  in  bare 
feet,  sandaJs,  people  with  Frye 
boots  and  platform  shoes.  We  hod 
very  great  extremes  in  terms  of  the 
drqss  our  contingency  represented 
as  national  costume.  The  United 
States  did  not  supply  us  with  uni- 
forms for  the  venture  as  most  of  the 
other  governments  did.  Most  gov- 
ernments represented  also  sent  Na- 
tional Troupes  to  woJk  into  the 
stadium,  very  much  like  the  Olym- 
pics. We  were  given  an  American 
flag  as  weJJ  as  an  identifying  ban- 
ner. Our  collective  decision  though, 
was  not  to  carry  the  flag.  Rather 
than  walk  in  with  the  stars  and 
stripes,  we  chose  to  carry  only  the 
banner.  Our  next  decision  was 
what  we  were  going  to  do  while  in- 
side, parading  around  the  stadium 
traclc.  We  decided  to  sing  "Lift 
Every  Voice.  .  ."and  began  prac- 
ticing. But  the  anthem  became  very 
weak  in  the  second  stanza,  and  we 
decided  to  leave  it  alone.  Our  final 
agreement  was  to  sing  "Amen". 

When  we  entered  the  stadium  it 
seemed  as  though  I  had  never  seen 
so  many  bJack  people  before  in  my 
life.  A  sea  of  sixty  thousand  black 
faces.  As  we  entered  singing 
"Amen"  the  gathering  seemed  to 
unify  and  the  song  was  picked  up 
by  each  area  we  passed.  They 
threw  positive  gestures  at  us,  say- 
ing some  very  nice  things  that  f  can- 
not recaU  now.  I  do  remember 
thinking  that  as  we  represented  the 
most  diverse  group  in  terms  of 
dress,  we  also  had  the  most  varied 
racial  breakup  of  any  group.  We 
had  people  in  our  contingency  who 
could  pass  for  white,  as  well  as  for 
any  of  the  African  countries  that 
attended.  And  I  distinctly 
remember  friends  of  mine,  trying  to 
find  themselves  among  one  of  the 
tribes  on  the  African  continent,  the 
people  that  most  resembled  them. 

The  experience  of  that  five 
minute  processional  spanned  a 
lifetime.  Gathered  in  the  presence 
of  more  black  people  then  we  had 
been  with   before,  1  felt  my  feet 


never  touched  the  ground  for  the 
entire  four  hundred  meters. 

Our  reception  at  the  festival  was 
extremely  warm  and  we  were 
saluted  very  highly.  Upon  returning 
to  the  United  States  I  heard  and 
read  reports  identifying  us  as  the 
vagabonds.  The  ones  without 
uniforms,  f  don't  think  this  was  felt 
by  any  of  us  while  marching.  We 
were  representing  ourselves  as 
ourselves  and  the  rest  of  the  Afro- 
Americans  who  could  not  go. 

The  feeling  I  think  most  of  us 
came  away  with,  was  that  of  par- 
ticipating in  a  collective  baptismal 
on  a  world  stage.  Baptised  in  a  sea 
of  faces  and  feelings.  We  were 
treated  as  that  part  of  an  extended 
family  who  had  been  away  for  a 
long  time  and  had  finally  come 
home.  This  feeling  was  made  real 
by  the  Nigerians  and  the  other  peo- 
ple represented  during  our  entire 
stay. 

***** 

For  the  next  four  weeks,  artists 
travelled  around  the  city  to  the 
various  exhibits  to  meet  other  ar- 
tists and  view  their  work.  There 
were  traditional  and  contemporary 
displays  in  all  mediums:  from 
folkloric  theatre  to  a  staging  of  of 
Eugene  Perkins  satiric  drama, 
"The  Image  Makers",  about 
Hollywood's  black  exploitation 
films.  From  Burundi  came  7-foot 
Tutsi  dancers,  and  girls  from  the 
Ivory  Coast  did  fertility  dances, 
while  a  modern  dance  troupe  from 
Brazil  conveyed  their  statements  in 
body  movement.  Artists  met  and 
discussed  their  work  and  its  rela- 
tionship to  their  culture;  new 
understandings  ensued. 

***** 

After  checking  out  the  art  ex- 
hibits of  all  the  nations  represented 
in  the  National  Theatre,  I  kept  com- 
ing back  to  the  works  of  Malanga- 
tana  Ngwenya.  Everywhere  I  went 
afterward  I  told  people  that  I 
wanted  to  meet  the  monster  artist 
from  Mozambique  named  Malango- 
tana,  because  I  really  dug  his  con- 
cept of  man  as  a  natural  force,  and 
his  ability  to  deal  with  Western 
techniques  within  an  African  sen- 
sibility. 


We  were  introduced  in  the  Na- 
tional Theater  by  an  Oriental  man 
from  Mozambique  who  said 
Malangatana  was  looking  just  as 
hard  for  me.  Malangatana  and  I  got 
along  well  and  we  spent  the  next 
three  days  together.  By  day  we  at- 
tended art  exhibits  where  he  would 
explain  the  Africanness  of  form, 
the  political  implications  of  symbols 
and  icons  in  each  picture,  while  I 
did  the  same  from  my  background; 
at  night  we  would  do  drawings  for 
each  other  talking  of  the 
similarities  and  differences  in  line 
and  rhythms  to  better  understand 
each  other's  strokes.  Despite  being 
an  artist  of  international  reputation 
and  minister  of  culture  for  Mozam- 
bique, he  is  one  of  the  warmest  peo- 
ple and  one  of  the  best  teachers  I 
have  ever  had  the  privilege  of 
knowing.  At  the  end  of  this  learning 
encounter,  we  gave  each  other 
several  drawings.  I  am  sure  on  both 
exchanges,  that  I  got  the  best  of  the 
deal.  Thank  you,  Malangatana 


***** 


The  theme  of  technology  versus 
tradition  was  a  common  concern 
among  scholars,  too.  For  two 
weeks,  a  Colloquivun  of  700  intellec- 
tuals participated  in  an  inter- 
change of  ideas  on  the  general 
theme  of  "Black  Civilization  and 
Education."  Academics  pursued 
such  topics  as  a  means  to  improve 
research  in  Africa  and  greater 
freedom  of  expression.  They 
discussed  the  problem  of  allowing 
scholars  more  academic  freedom  in 
a  continent  where  most  of  the 
universities  are  government  fimd- 
ed.  Many  presented  papers  ex- 
pressing fear  that  by  bringing  in 
Western  technology,  Africa  may 
also  bring  in  undesirable  Western 
values  such  as  racism  and  the  dif- 
fusion of  African  traditional 
values. 

The  First  World  Black  and 
African  Festival  of  Arts  and 
Culture  took  place  in  1966  in 
Dakar,  Senegal.  Plans  were  made 
at  that  time  for  the  second  festival 
to  be  held  in  Lagos  in  1970  but 
because  of  Nigeria's  civil  war  from 
1967-1970,  the  festival  had  to  be 
postponed.  Other  emergencies 
caused    further    delay.    When    a 

Continued  on  page  74 


72     Drum 


Malangatana 


Drum     73 


FESTAC— from  page  72 
definite  date  was  finally  settled, 
Lagos  rushed  to  prepare  itself  for 
its  future  guests. 

At  a  cost  of  $60  million,  a  new 
National  Theatre  was  constructed. 
There,  scholars  would  present 
their  papers  and  exchange 
thoughts;  dramas  would  be  staged; 
other  visual  artists  would  exhibit 
paintings,  sculptures  and  films; 
musicians  and  dancers  would 
display  their  art. 

The  National  Theatre  resembles 
an  ark — it  was  designed  by  the 
Nigerians  AAdth  the  concept  of 
Noah's  Ark  in  mind — the  idea  that 
people  would  come  two  by  two  from 
around  the  world.  The  streets  were 
cleaned  and  lamposts  decorated 
with  banners  and  flags  of  the 
Festival's  emblem;  a  government 
order  was  issued  forbidding 
automobiles  on  the  city  streets 
every  other  day,  to  reduce  traffic 
jams.  The  population  in  Lagos  is  2 
million. 

Six  miles  outside  Lagos,  FESTAC 
Village  was  constructed,  an  $80 
million  housing  project  for  the  par- 
ticipants and  others  who  travelled 
to  Lagos  to  view  the  festival.  Con- 
struction of  FESTAC  Village  was 
not  complete  when  the  artists  ar- 
rived; they  stayed  there,  anyway, 
and  construction  continued.  Other 
complications  which  plagued  the 
Nigerians  for  the  festival  included 
an  dispute  with  Britain  over  rights 
to  the  Royal  Ivory  Mask  of  Benin, 
emblem  for  FESTAC  17. 

The  16th  century  ivory  mask  was 
worn  by  Benin  kings  during 
religious  ceremonies  luitil  1897, 
when  it  was  seized  by  the  British 
during  an  invasion;  it  currently  sits 
in  the  British  museimi  in  London. 
Symbolically,  the  British  refused  to 
send  the  mask  back  to  Africa  for 
the  festival — they  feared  it  was  too 
fragile.  Finally,  rights  were 
secured  so  the  Nigerians  could 
register  a  replica  of  the  mask  and 
trademark  it  as  the  official  emblem 
of  the  Festival. 


***** 


My  most  memorable  day  got  o// 
to  a  slow  start.  \\.  was  about  ten 
days  a/ter  we  got  there.  We  were 
standing  around  waiting  /or  the 
buses,  wY^ich  were  Jote — \\  wasn't 


unusual  io  have  Xo  waif  a  Jong  time, 
and  I  got  tired  o/  doing  ihat.  Ed 
Spriggs  told  me  he  was  going  to  the 
International  Secretariat 

Building — which  was  where  ihe 
structural  unit  /or  Xhe  entire 
FESTAC  was  located,  so  I  went  with 
him. 

When  we  got  there  I  passed  out 
cards  of  work  that  I  was  doing.  This 
drew  a  crowd  for  two  reasons.  One 
was  the  art  work,  the  other  was 
because  there  is  a  paper  shortage 
and  I  was  passing  out  paper.  That's 
a  phenomenon  that  I  /ound  was 
strange  there. 

Two  of  the  people  that  I  met 
while  passing  out  cards  introduced 
themselves  to  me.  One  was  named 
Gbenga,  the  other  Ayo.  I  knew  they 
were  both  Yoruba  hy  their  names 
and  they  told  me  that  they  worked 
for  Fela,  who  is  a  very  popular 
musician  in  Nigeria.  "Fela  Ransone 
Kuti."  "Nol  Fela  Anikulapo-Kuti." 

I  had  heard  of  Fela,  so  I  took  out 
a  Malcolm  X  card,  and  wrote 
"Brother  Fela,  from  one  artist  to 
another — I  would  like  to  see  more 
of  Nigeria.  Signed,  Nelson."  And 
added  my  flat  number  in  the 
FESTAC  village. 

That  was  about  noon.  When  I  got 
hack  to  my  flat  at  midnight,  I  was 
putting  the  key  in  the  door. 
Napoleon,  "the  Weaver,"  Hender- 
son, my  roommate,  had  not  come  in 
yet,  and  I  realized  there  was 
someone  crouched  at  the  foot  of  the 
door.  At  first  I  was  startled;  then 
the  man  got  up  and  explained  that 
he  had  been  sent  to  bring  me  to 
Fela.  So  I  went  in  and  quickly  got  a 
bunch  of  things — camera,  silk- 
screen,  some  prints  and  different 
things  that  I  thought  I  might  need 
and  extended  an  invitation  to 
Ademoia  Olugede/ola.  He  declined. 

Then  we  went  down  and  he 
/lagged  down  a  passing  car.  He  just 
stood  right  in  the  middle  of  the  road 
and  made  the  car  stop.  He  told  the 
driver  the  two  of  us  wanted  to  go  to 
Mushin.  He  and  the  driver  had  a  lit- 
tle argument,  hut  the  driver  decid- 
ed to  take  us  when  Fela's  name  was 
mentioned. 

On  the  way  there  the  man  who 
was  sent  to  get  me  explained  that 
he  had  been  waiting  10  hours  and 
had  /alien  asleep.  I  was  not  to  tell 
Fela  about  his  sleeping. 

When  we  got  to  Fela's  commune, 


the  Kuti  Republic,  I  noticed  that  it 
was  surrounded  by  a  high  barbed 
wire  fence.  There  were  crowds 
everywhere — outside  of  the  com- 
mune and  inside,  too.  We  pushed 
our  way  through  to  the  gate  and 
were  cleared;  we  went  inside.  I  was 
escorted  to  a  large  waiting  room 
where  I  was  served  pineapple, 
coconut,  palm  wine  and  cola  nuts. 
They  kept  bringing  me  gifts  and  dif- 
ferent things  to  drink  and  eat — just 
good  Nigerian  hospitality  and  infor- 
mation about  Fela. 

Fela  came  in  and  I  presented  him 
with  my  gift,  a  silk  screen  print  I 
had  done;  I  told  him  that  I  wanted 
to  catch  his  concert  that  night  at 
the  African  Shrine.  The  African 
Shrine  is  a  nightclub  that  Fela  owns 
and  per/orms  in.  It's  always  filled 
to  capacity  because  of  its  populari- 
ty. Fela  then  invited  me  to  a  recor- 
ding session  of  his  music,  which 
would  take  place  after  the  concert. 

Fela  began  talking  to  me  about 
his  religion  and  his  music.  He  and 
his  people  are  Yoruba.  They  are  not 
Christian  and  they  are  not  Islamic. 
They  believe  Islam  and  Christianity 
are  both  corrupt  subversives  from 
outside  Africa.  For  them,  the  only 
indigenous  African  religions  were 
those  that  had  been  there  through 
the  ancestors,  like  Yoruba.  Fela 
wanted  to  draw  on  that  traditional 
experience  as  a  basis  for  his 
politics  and  music. 

We  talked  a  long  time  about  the 
United  States  and  FESTAC.  Fela 
wanted  to  know  a  great  deal  about 
both.  He  was  very  politically  aware 
of  what  was  happening  in  the 
United  States  to  his  Brothers  and 
Sisters.  He  remembers  that  those 
who  were  educated  abroad — 
either  in  the  United  States  or 
Europe  or  even  Russia — had  come 
back  in  Western  suits,  and  with 
Western  mentalities.  "Western 
Suits  and  Western  Minds.'" 

In  the  sixties,  he  saw  on  televi- 
sion, brothers  in  the  streets  of  the 
U.S.  very  proud  of  their  African 
heritage  and  African  traditions, 
trying  to  revitalize  and  revive  them. 
He  said  it  gave  him  a  great  sense  of 
'correctness'  in  terms  of  his  own 
movement.  It  allowed  him  see  on  a 
larger  scale  what  was  happening, 
and  to  reject  some  of  the  Western 
influences. 

We  left  the  Kuti  Republic  for  the 


74     Drum, 


African  Shrine  which  was  just  two 
bJocks  away.  We  waJked,  and  all 
along  the  wolJtways  on  either  side 
of  the  procession  of  people  follow- 
ing Fela,  there  were  spectators. 
They  were  standing,  clapping  and 
hollering,  Tela  for  president/'; 
'FeJa's  my  man!';  and  'Fela's  a  had 
niggaV  He's  a  very  powerful  man. 
He  possesses  the  charismatic 
strength  of  Muhammed  Ali,  James 
Brown,  Stevie  Wonder,  and  O.J. 
Simpson  aJJ  forming  one  Yoruba 
deity.  His  performance  at  the 
African  Shrine  that  night  was  pack- 
ed with  people  dancing  and 
Jaughing  in  total  freedom. 

Fela's  music  is  caJJed  Afro-Beat. 
They  did  a  number  caJJed  'Africa  is 
Upside  Down,'  which  was  about 
how  the  rich  get  richer  and  the 
poor  poorer.  Nigeria  is  the  sixth 
largest  oil  exporter  in  the  world, 
and  Fela  is  very  concerned  with  the 
poor  getting  a  share  of  some  of 
Nigeria's  new  weaJth.  After  the 
concert  we  went  to  the  recording 
session  with  his  16  piece  band, 
eight  women  singers,  and  road 
managers,  Ayo  and  Gbenga. 

Despite  his  heavy  scheduJe,  FeJa 
and  I  became  very  good  friends 
over  the  next  weelc  and  he  wanted 
Gbenga  to  show  me  and  some  other 
peopJe  around.  Gbenga  wouJd  come 
to  FESTAC  ViUage  and  get  a  bus;  it 
seemed  as  though  he  couJd  get  one 
much  easier  through  his  channels 
than  we  could  through  ours.  So  they 
secured  several  buses  for  us  to  see 
oJd  slave  quarters,  Benin  beaches 
and  Yoruba  ceremonies  while  the 
East  coast  of  the  U.S.  was  engulfed 
in  the  coldest  winter  in  memory. 

They  also  took  us  to  a  Shango 
Priest  where  I  was  given  my  name, 
after  telling  my  life's  story.  The 
priest  did  not  speak  directly  to  me 
but  had  an  interpreter.  Frank 
Smith,  Adger  Cowans,  David 
Stevens,  Vincent  Smith  and  I  went 
on  that  trip  and  I  believe  we  were 
all  given  names. 

I  was  given  the  name  Oya  Deli.  At 
first  I  didn't  understand,  because 
Oya's  a  woman's  name.  I  said, 
'Why  do  you  give  me  Shango's 
wife's  name?'  He  was  delighted 
that  I  knew.  Then  he  told  me  Deli 
meant  at  home.  So  my  name  means 


the  goddess  Oya  would  be  at  home 
with  me. 

When  I  got  back  to  the  United 
States,  I  read  in  the  papers  that  the 
Nigerian  government  had  ran- 
sacked the  commune.  There  were 
rumors  that  at  least  one  person 
was  dead.  I  was  very  worried  about 
a  lot  of  people.  Since  that  time  I've 
gotten  calls  to  alleviate  me  from 
those  worries.  But  the  Nigerian 
government  was  very  rough  on 
Fela's  people  after  we  left.  I  felt 
very  safe  when  I  was  with  Fela,  and 
his  friends;  I  did  not  realize  that 
while  we  were  there  we  were  pro- 
tecting him. 


***** 


At  the  closing  ceremony,  all  the 
nations  assembled  one  last  time, 
and  danced  a  final  dance  together. 
The  feelings  of  solidarity  reached 
their  height  when  Commander  O.P. 
Fingese,  the  festival  president, 
declared,  "We  are  no  longer  the 
third  world.  We  are  the  first 
world." 

"For  the  first  time,"  said  musi- 
cian Bayo  Martins,  "it  dawned  on 
me  that  all  black  people  have  one 
thing  in  common,  a  culture  and  a 
heritage.  I  believe  in  the  spirit  of 
FESTAC,  the  need  for  black  people 
to  get  together  and  rekindle  their 
consciousness  and  confidence." 

An  excerpt  from  the  Nigerian 
Daily  Times  reveals  the  task  under- 
taken by  past  participants  in 
FESTAC,  and  the  goal  of  FESTAC 
81: 

"There  is  a  black  nation,  a  black 
world.  It  is  a  world  whose  citizens 
are  spread  all  aroimd  the  globe,  a 
world  whose  peoples  share  not  only 
a  tradition  of  customs,  but  also  of 
ethical  values.  And  it  is  these 
values  that  demand  that  we  exert 
ourselves,  not  only  in  the  reahn  of 
art,  but  also  in  the  realm  of  politics. 
The  black  world  must  continue  to 
see  its  civilization  and  its  freedom 
as  threatened  so  long  as  a  single 
black  man  or  woman  remains  op- 
pressed anywhere  in  the  world. 
This  is  the  inescapable  challenge 
which  this  gathering  has  placed 
before  us." 


Drum     75 


by  Kelly  Wright  and 
Diane  Mitchell 


The  Amherst  area  has  been  sub- 
ject to  a  distinct  rise  in  the 
awareness  and  appreciation  of 
Black  Classical  Music.  In  the  past 
years,  the  residents  of  this  area 
have  had  the  opportunity  to  host 
such  giants  as  Max  Roach,  Marion 
Brown,  and  Archie  Shepp.  More 
recently,  there  has  been  a  greater 
exposure  of  the  vocal  aspect  of 
music.  In  expanding  on  this  sub- 
ject. Drum  held  an  interview  with  a 
dynamic  jazz  vocalist,  Ms.  Vea 
Williams. 

Vea  is  originally  from  Pittsburgh, 
Pennsylvania  where  she  began  per- 
forming with  a  group  known  as 
"Sisterhood."  She  describes  this 
experience  as  being  most  reward- 
ing. For  it  was  with  these  sisters 
that  she  developed  the  techniques 
necessary  for  being  a  lead  singer. 
Vea  reminisces  fondly  of  the 
closeness  and  progressiveness  of 
this  group. 

In  1973,  Vea  travelled  to  Atlanta, 
Georgia  where  she  lived  for  three 
years  before  moving  to  the  Amherst 
area. 


INTRODUCING: 

VEA  WILLIAMS 


She  is  now  employed  with  the 
W.E.B.  DuBois  Department  of 
African-American  Studies  at  the 
University  of  Massachusetts,  and 
has  recently  been  performing  in 
this  area  with  the  group 
"Welcome."  Together,  they  create 
an  atmosphere  of  harmony  and 
love  which  Vea  feels  is  the  overall 
message  to  share  with  her  au- 
dience. 

Her  inspiration  stems  from 
dynamic  women  and  artists  such  as 
Sarah  Vaughan,  Nina  Simone, 
Dinah  Washington  and  Betty 
Carter.  Like  these  artists,  Vea  feels 
committed  to  the  music  she  sings. 


Photograph  by  Ana  Andreu 

Many  artists  of  Black  Classical 
Music  have  been  pressured  to  alter 
their  style  of  music  to  obtain  sup- 
port by  a  commercial  industry.  A 
nimiber  of  artists  have  made  this 
change,  while  many  more  will  not. 
Vea  believes  she  can  carry  her 
message  to  her  audience  without 
turning  to  the  commercial  industry. 

Members  of  Drum  feel  grovdng 
artists  such  as  Vea  Williams  can  be 
recognized  in  their  field  with  the 
consistent  support  of  listeners. 

We  feel  it  is  essential  that  we 
support  our  brothers  and  sisters  in 
their  endeavors  of  unity,  on  this 
campus  and  throughout  the  world. 


16     Brum 


The  Idea  of  Duke 


".  .  .As  though  I  were  some  very,  very 
special  child,  my  mother  would  say,  "Ed- 
ward, you  are  blessed.  You  don't  have 
anything  to  worry  about.  Edward,  you  are 

Here  we  find  ourselves  dealing  with  a  vast 
field  of  colors,  colors  that  stand  out  of  a 
long  tunnel  of  memory.  Somewhere  from 
very  deep  inside  dwells  the  urge  to 
manipulate  these  colors  in  space.  It  always 
seems  quite  natural  to  know  that  Duke  once 
studied  painting,  and  considered  making 
that  his  primary  craft,  and  not  music.  Who 
knows?  But  it  is  certain  that  Duke's  mother 
was  right,  Ellington  was  "blessed"  and  any 
art  form  he  encountered  would  have  been 
enriched  by  his  blessed  vision.  Mercer  El- 
lington has  noted  the  relationship  of  his 
father's  music  to  painting;  the  way  Duke 
had  of  establishing  and  maintaining  an  ever 
evolving  sense  of  tonecolor  and  textures. 
The  complex  palette  of  sound  springs  from 
every  musical  source  imaginable;  but  are  yet 
linked  implicitly  to  the  elegance  and  elo- 
quence of  the  blues. 

But  Duke's  idea  though  texturally  com- 
plex is  undergirded  by  his  firm  sense  of  the 
role  of  the  individual  in  the  overall  ensemble 
of  color  making  and  design.  Duke's  idea 
here  stands  for  me  as  the  model  of  the  ideal 
society,  the  ideal  social  system.  Duke  El- 
lington was  both  aristocratic  and 
democratic  as  an  orchestra  leader.  On  the 
one  side  of  the  sensibility  we  have  the  ability 
to  make  aesthetic  judgements  not  only 
about  music,  but  about  people  also.  In  this 
manner  Ellington  constructs  for  us  a  new 
kind  of  aristocracy,  first  a  Duke  must  lead. 
But  he  must  also  listen  as  he  leads  if  he  is  to 
be  able  to  secure  his  kingdom.  So  that  when 
one  considers  the  idea  of  Duke  we  encounter 
a  unique  artistic  relationship  between  Duke 
and  the  exemplary  members  of  his  or- 
chestra, the  sense  of  a  collective  will  to 
create  ones  own  personality  within  the  en- 
semble (the  nation),  but  also  to  create  for 


the  sheer  purpose  of  adding  to  the  beauty  of 
the  ever  emerging  musical  idea.  This  is  what 
I  mean  by  the  democratic  idea  symbolized 
by  Duke's  orchestral  history  and  concep- 
tion. 

So  for  me  Ellington's  artistic  method  and 
intelligence  constitutes  the  basis  for  a 
"governmental  form".  This  form  is  both  na- 
tional and  international  in  scope.  Yet  like 
Ellington's  music  it  maintains  a  specific 
ethos,  a  specific  cultural  reference  and  firm- 
ness of  identity  amidst  the  confusion  of  the 
world.  This  intelligence  is  both  meditative 
and  active.  It  is  both  sensual  and  at  other 
times  austere.  But  it  is  never  afraid  to  see 
what  it  sees.  (Max  Roach's  anecdote  about 
the  recording  session  with  Mingus  and  El- 
lington comes  to  mind:  Duke  said  that 
Max's  drum  solo  should  picture  a  lovely 
flower  in  a  quiet  rain  forest  that  is  suddenly 
attacked  by  a  snake.)  So  now  we  find 
ourselves  talking  about  an  intelligence  that 
is  also  poetic  as  well  as  visual.  An  aspect  of 
the  idea  of  Duke  which  is  the  attempt  to 
keep  his  music  encyclopedic.  Duke's  music 
is  never  really  parochial  in  any  real  sense  of 
the  word.  Perhaps  that  is  because  the  entire 
body  of  his  work  indicates  a  merger  between 
the  science  of  music,  emotional  density  and 
the  rhythmic  wisdom  of  the  blues. 

As  an  out-chorus  one  wonders  whether 
Duke's  musical  idea  can  be  consciously  ex- 
tended to  the  realms  of  government  and 
society?  Is  the  orchestral  idea  no  less  worthy 
of  being  a  paradigm  of  government  than  the 
human  body?  Consider  the  minute  connec- 
tion between  Ellington  and  the  brilliant  col- 
leagues that  surrounded  him,  the  interming- 
ling and  blending  of  diverse  voices  to  create 
the  shape  of  Duke's  idea.  And  like  Ellington 
we  have  been  blessed,  blessed  to  have  heard 
him  and  to  have  helped  create  him. 

Larry  Neal  4/23/78 

^Music  is  My  Mistress  by  Duke  Ellington 


Drum     77 


In  Praise  of  the  Coonville  Brigade 


The  arrival  of  Africans  in  the  Western 
World  changed  more  than  a  few  things  in 
America.  The  Africans'  ability  to  synthesize 
their  own  diverse  cultures  and  to 
transform— or  personalize— the  values  of 
whites  and  Indians,  resulted  in  a  new  facet 
of  human  experience.  An  American  cultural 
militia  was  formed,  a  militia  that  fought 
many  campaigns  against  the  European  con- 
ventions that  could  not  speak  to  the  realities 
experienced  by  African-Americans  of  that 
era.  The  changes  affected  by  those  African- 
Americans  in  American  music,  humor,  and 
dance  is  a  significant  part  of  this  country's 
culture,  just  as  the  Jews  and  Germans  have 
affected  European  thought  over  the  last  two 
hundred  years. 

I  choose  to  call  the  African- Americans  in- 
volved in  those  changes  the  Coonville 
Brigade  partially  because  the  name  is 
huniorous,  and  partially  because  I  envision 
an  assemblage  of  musicians  and  dancers 
marching  in  constant  rag  tag,  elegant  and 
arrogant  review,  extending  from  sawers  of 
plantation  fiddles  to  manipulators  of  the 
many  buttons  on  saxophones,  from  "pattin 
juba"  to  Diane  Mclntyre.  They  are  the  war- 
riors who  have  won  more  international 
respect  and  sparked  more  international 
emulation  than  any  other  single  group  of 
American  performing  artists. 

African-Americans  have  been  at  the  in- 
tersections of  American  development  since 
their  arrival:  changing  the  way  people 
season  and  cook  their  foods,  how  they 
walk,  talk,  listen  to,  sing  and  play  music. 
And  simultaneously,  African-Americans 
have  been  influenced  by  the  improvisational 
nature  of  America.  It  is  a  country  that 
evolved  through  invention  and  adaptation. 

It  is  the  musical  arena  that  the  Coonville 
Brigade  has  made  its  most  obvious  impact, 
not  only  in  the  development  of  the  Spiritual, 
but  in  maintaining  fresh  ideas  and  percep- 
tions of  popular  music  and  art.  It  is  very  dif- 
ficult   to    imagine    popular    song,    from 


Stephen  Foster  to  the  present,  without 
thinking  of  those  African-Americans  who 
ignited  that  first  spark.  (Though  it  is  just  as 
important  to  know  that  there  were  black 
composers  in  the  19th  century  who  were 
quite  popular  during  the  rage  of  the  "Ethio- 
pian Airs.")  In  high  art  there  is  the  music 
known — some  might  say  misnomered — as 
jazz,  which  has  been  responsible  for  innova- 
tions in  form,  harmony,  melody,  and  in- 
strumental technique.  The  innovations  of 
black  musicians  have  allowed  us,  in  the  20th 
century,  to  hear  trumpets,  saxophones, 
basses,  trombones,  drums,  flutes,  even  syn- 
thesizers, very  differently  than  they  were  in- 
tended to  be  heard.  In  fact,  the  saxophone 
has  replaced  the  strings  (violin  and  cello)  as 
an  instrument  of  intricacy  and  sensitivity;  it 
does  for  American  music  what  those  other 
instruments  did  for  European  concert  music. 

Statements  like  those  above  are  often 
dismissed  as  self-defensive,  ignorant  ran- 
tings,  or  chauvinistic  by  the  cultural  politics 
encountered  in  most  academic  institutions. 
Many  others  know  very  little  about  the 
sources  of  the  styles  to  which  they  have 
become  so  accustomed.  They  might  think, 
for  example,  that  there  were  indeed  drum 
majors  in  Europe  who  knew  how  to  strut 
while  twirling  and  catching  their  batons. 
They  would,  as  Martin  Williams  pointed 
out,  be  surprised  to  find  that  the  true 
originators  served  in  the  Coonville  Brigade. 

When  we  think  of  the  many,  many  con- 
tributions that  have  come  from  members  of 
the  Brigade,  we  can  better  understand  the 
heroic  possibilities  of  human  life.  We  can 
better  understand  Duke  Ellington's  dictum: 
"The  good  thing  about  a  problem  is  that  it 
allows  you  an  opportunity  to  invent 
something  better  than  you  were  given."  And 
all  the  medals  of  honor  are  all  those  com- 
plimentary extensions  of  those  innovations. 


Stanley  Crouch 


78     Drum 


SAID  IT  WOULDN'T  TAKE  FOREVER 


WITH  DEEPEST  HUMILITY  SOME  IMPRESSIONS  OF  THE 
MAESTRO  EDWARD  KENNEDY  ELLINGTON 


PRESSED  AGAINST  THE  CRESCENT  I  VAMPED 
BREATHED  THE  SONGS  OF  MY  PEOPLE 
AND  BUILT  A  PRAYER 

TOOK  WHAT  FAMILY  GAVE  ME  I  TOUGHED 
SWEETEN  ALL  THE  SORROWS  OF  OUR  SADNESS 
AND  MADE  THEM  A  SYMPHONY 

I  AM  THAT  NOTE  YOU  SAW  IN  TEARS      * 

THAT  KEY  YOU  LOST 

THAT  MYSTERY  YOU  ARE  LOOKING  FOR       ^.^^ 

BE  SHAMED  NOT  OF  THE  UNKNOWN 

FOR  SATURDAY  NIGHTS  AND  SUNDAY  MORNINGS 

NEVER  LIE 

HELD  COURT  WITH  THE  HOUND  DOG'S  BAY 
HAD  HIGH  TEA  WITH  THE  TRAIN'S  WHISTLE 
WITH  GOD'S  PERMISSION 

WAS  CHOSEN  TO  BE  THE  AMBASSADOR  OF  STYLE 
IN  ORDER  TO  BRING  OUT  IN  OURSELVES 
THE  MOST  SACRED 

NEATH  THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ANGEL'S  WING 

I  HONED  THE  CRITIC'S  PEN 

OBLIGED  THE  GRIOTS  AND  RAZOR  SKATED 

I  AM  THAT  STEP  YOU  MUST  NOT  MISS 
I  AM  THAT  HUE  WE  ARE 
WELCOME  TO  THE  COURT  OF 
THE  DUKE  OF  ELLINGTON 

BILL  HASSON 
©  1978 


Courtesy  Duke  Ellington  Center,  New  York  City 


Drum     79 


80     Drum 


NOTES  ON  CHANO  POZO 


by  Jorge  Medina 

Those  of  us  that  are  into  contem- 
porary Afro-American  music, 
whether  we  call  it  jazz,  fimk,  disco. 
Salsa,  or  Brazillian,  have  realized 
that  the  last  few  years  has  brought 
an  intensive  exchange  of  ideas  and 
styles  between  Afro-American  and 
Latin-American  Musicians.  Two 
good  examples  are  Gil  Scott-Heron 
and  Eddie  Palmieri.  The  reasons 
for  this  are  many,  but  it  is  essential 
for  us  to  realize  that  no  matter 
what  the  modern  influences  and 
processes  are,  one  thing  is  certain: 
our  music — Salsa,  Afro-American, 
Carribbean,  or  whatever — is 
similar  today  because  of  a  common 
heritage,  our  common  roots. 

North  and  West  Africa  have 
greatly  influenced  not  only  New 
World,  or  American  music,  but 
have  also  helped  to  mold  the  music 
of  people  from  throughout  the 
world.  Eastern  people,  like  the 
Arab  and  Islamic  people,  may  also 
make  the  same  claim.  Prior  to  the 
discovery  of  the  Americas, 
southern  Spain  was  a  center  of 
Islamic  culture  from  the  seventh  to 
the  sixteenth  century.  As  such, 
there  was  a  diffusion  of  Islamic 
music  and  thought  to  the  rest  of  the 
world. 

A  more  recent  period,  the  1930's 
to  the  present,  offers  us  several 
musical  talents  that  helped 
stimulate  the  type  of  exchange 
about  which  we  are  talking. 
Machito  and  Mario  Bauza,  Afro- 
Cuban  greats,  and  Duke  Ellington 
and  Charlie  Parker  of  the  Afro- 
American  culture,  are  among  those 
talents.  Many  others  deserve 
credit,  including  Stan  Kenton,  but 
one  figure  in  particular  stands 
out — the  great  Afro-Cuban  percus- 
sionist Chano  Pozo. 

Born  in  Cuba  in  1915,  Chano 
Pozo  was  a  third  generation  Latin- 
American.  His  roots,  therefore, 
were  firmly  planted  in  the  Mother 
continent — Africa.  Like  most  of  us, 
he  was  a  victim  of  oppression,  hav- 
ing to  face  harsh  conditions  of 
poverty  and  racism  throughout  his 
life.  The  experience  of  going  to 
prison  was  not  absent  from 
Chano's  life,  and  he  later  became  a 
counselor  for  other  inmates — 
never    having    forgotten    from 


whence  he  came.  Despite  the 
pressures  (or  perhaps  due  to  them), 
Chano  became  an  expert  inter- 
preter and  creator  of  Cuban  music. 

Pozo,  whose  real  name  was  Lu- 
ciano Pozo  y  Gonzales,  played  pro- 
fessionally in  Cuba  for  some  time. 
Like  most  artists,  he  held  many  dif- 
ferent jobs — jobs  that  had  nothing 
to  do  with  music.  Nevertheless,  he 
maintained  an  impeccable  and 
highly  creative  style  of  Afro-Cuban 
drumming,  which  many  feel  has 
never  been  equalled.  Before  com- 
ing to  the  United  States,  Poco,  being 
a  member  of  a  local  Comparsa^, 
participated  in  an  Afro-Cuban 
religious  cult.  This  cult,  called 
Abakua,  was  a  group  whose  beliefs 
and  practices  were  not  much  dif- 
ferent from  those  held  by  the  peo- 
ple in  West  Africa. 

New  York,  the  center  of  Latin 
and  Afro-American  music  then  and 
now,  was  Pozo's  first  home  here  in 
the  States.  Having  been  persuaded 
to  come  to  this  country  by  Miguelito 
Valdez,  the  famous  Afro-Cuban 
musician,  singer,  and  composer, 
Pozo  arrived  during  a  time  when 
Latin  music  was  receiving  a  signifi- 
cant amoxmt  of  attention.  Musi- 
cians like  Machito,  Mario  Bauza, 
and  Vicente  Sigler  were  enjoying 
great  popularity  as  they  played 
their  Cuban  and  Puerto  Rican 
rhythms  to  thousands.  Afro- 
American  music  was  also  enjoying 
much  celebration.  The  big  band  era 
had  begun  with  the  musical  genius 
of  several  Afro-American  masters. 
But  the  music  was  not  the  only 
thing  people  were  relishing;  dances 
like  the  "Swing,"  the  "Conga,"  and 
the  "Mumbo,"  were  all  very 
popular. 

Chano  Pozo  met  Dizzy  Gillespie,  a 
jazz  trumpeter  and  band  leader, 
sometime  in  the  forties.  Pozo  "sat- 
in" with  Gillespie's  orchestra  and 
was  hired  to  work  with  the  group 
shortly  thereafter.  Afro-American 
music,  or  Bop,  began  receiving 
Latin  influence  via  Chano  Pozo. 
Unlike  Bauza,  whose  influence  was 
felt  through  musical  arrangement, 
Chano  was  one  of  the  few  who  in- 
fluenced the  music  as  a  partici- 
pant. Like  many  Latin  American 
driunmers,  he  possessed  rhythms 


that  were  new  and  revolutionary  to 
many  Afro-American  musicians, 
and  drummers  in  particular.  It  took 
a  while  for  the  Latin-Afro- 
American  blend  to  jell,  but  it  was 
not  long  before  Bop  rhythms  in- 
creased in  complexity  and 
richness. 

Latin-jazz  or  Afro-Cuban  jazz 
was  being  created.  Chano  com- 
posed songs  along  these  veins, 
songs  like  Tin-Tin-Deo  and  Guachi- 
Guaro,  which  was  later  recorded 
by  Cal  Tjader  and  retitled  Soul 
Sauce.  Other  familiar  tunes  of  the 
era  were  Afro-Blue  and  Night  in 
Tunisia,  as  recorded  by  Charlie 
Parker.  Many  of  the  tunes  recorded 
then  can  be  heard  at  the  jazz 
festivals  of  today. 

As  too  often  happens  with  our 
leaders,  be  they  musical  forerun- 
ners, political  activists,  or  spiritual 
comforts,  Chano  Pozo  died  a  yovmg 
man.  Having  worked  with  Dizzy 
Gillespie  for  a  year,  Pozo  met  his 
death  in  a  Harlem  night-club. 
Curiously  enough,  his  death  oc- 
curred on  the  eve  of  the  feast  day 
of  his  patron  god.  Change.  ^ 

Much  more  can  be  said.  We  have 
not  really  covered  all  of  the  give- 
and-take  that  our  musicians  have 
experienced  between  each  other. 
We  are  witnessing  yet  another 
peak  in  the  coming  together  of 
Afro-American,  Latin-American, 
Salsa,  and  other  African  and  New 
World  music.  This  coming  together 
on  the  stage,  in  the  studio,  concert 
hall  and  on  the  dance  floor  reflects 
our  coming  together  as  ONE 
people.  When  we  listen  to  our  new 
types  of  music,  whether  it  be  for 
relaxing,  boogying,  or  hustling,  let 
us  remember  folks  like  the  legen- 
dary Chano  Pozo. 

FOOTNOTES 

^  These  were  community  based  non- 
professional groups  that  practiced  Afro- 
Cuban  Dance  and  Music.  Their  main  activity 
was  preparation  for  competition  in  the  An- 
nual Comparsa  festivals.  Los  Dandy  was  one 
of  the  more  popular  of  these  groups. 

^    Chango    is    one    of   the   many   gods   or 

"Orichas"  of  the  Yoruba  and  other  West 

African  religions.  He  is  among  other  things, 

god  of  the  drums  and  father  of  all  African 

Drummers. 

Drum     81 


82     Drum 


Nelson  Stevens 


Marion  Brown 


EVENING  SONG 


for  piano 


nia  music 


EVENING  SONG 

Was  inspired  by  the  poetry  of  Jean  Toomer,  Harlem  Renaissance  Poet.  It  is  a  structured  im- 
provisation for  piano.  There  are  two  parts,  both  are  connected  by  a  motif  in  the  bass.  Part  I,  is 
based  on  the  following  lines  from  the  poem  Evening  Song: 

"Cloine,  curled  like  the  sleepy  waters  where  the  moonwaves  start"  .  .  . 

Part  II, 

"Cloine  dreams,  lips  pressed  against  my  heart"  .  .  . 


The  interpretation  of  the  music  is  left  to  the  Performer.  What  I  have  written  serves  only  as 
reference  for  improvisation,  and  identification  of  the  composition  as  specific  melodically, 
rhythmically,  and  with  regards  to  form.  Because  improvisation  is  the  goal  of  the  music,  the  Per- 
former is  at  liberty  to  choose  tempo,  dynamics,  and  length  of  performance.  This  is  intended  to 
give  the  Performer  space  in  which  to  make  the  music  live  by  combining  what  I  have  written  (the 
composition),  with  how  the  Performer  feels  (his  interpretation,  and  improvisations)  about  the 
music. 


I  would  like  to  thank  the  National  Endowment  For  The  Arts  for  helping  to  make  the  composi- 
tion and  publication  of  this  music  possible  through  assistance  given  to  me  in  the  form  of  a 
Grant. 


Marion  Brown 


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''^A-iifU'-'A^i^: 


by  Janet  Rausa 

Sonia  Sanchez  is  one  of  the  most 
talented,  imaginative,  and  gifted 
writers  of  this  era.  She  is  an 
essayist,  a  playwright,  a  novelist, 
as  well  as  a  poet.  Her  works  have 
been  published  in  many  periodicals 
and  anthologies  throughout  the 
country.  Of  her  many  publications, 
the  books,  We  the  BaddDD  People, 
It's  a  New  Day,  The  Adventures  of 
Fathead,  Smallhead,  and 
Squarehead,  and  A  Blue  Book  For  a 
Blue  Black  Magical  Woman;  the 
short  story.  After  Saturday  Night 
Comes  Sunday;  and  the  plays, 
Sister  Sonji,  and  The  Bronx  is  Next, 
are  more  well  known. 

Ms.  Sanchez  is  a  graduate  of 
Hunter  College  and  received  her 
doctorate  degree  in  Himianities 
from  Wilberforce  University  in 
1972.  Since  she  graduated,  Ms. 
Sanchez  has  been  instrumental  in 
setting  up  Black  Studies  programs 
across  the  coimtry.  She  helped 
establish  the  Black  Studies  pro- 
gram at  San  Francisco  State  Col- 
lege where  the  first  Black  Studies 
courses  were  made  available  in 
this  country.  She  has  taught 
classes  in  Black  English,  the  Black 
Woman,  and  many  other  courses  at 
Rutgers  University,  University  of 
Pittsburgh,  City  College  in  New 
York,  the  University  of  Penn- 
sylvania, Amherst  College,  and  is 
presently  teaching  at  Temple 
University. 

Like  many  other  writers,  when 
asked  how  and  when  she  started 
writing,  Ms.  Sanchez  said  she  had 
been  writing  since  she  was  a  child. 
Because  she  stuttered  when  she 
was  young,  she  started  to  write  in 
order  to  communicate  effectively 
with  other  people.  She  knew  that 
people  wouldn't  necessarily  wait 
for  her  to  say  what  she  wanted  to 
say;  therefore,  she  started  to  write 
down  messages  that  she  thought 
were  important  to  get  across  to 
people.  She  grew  accustomed  to 
writing  down  her  thoughts  and  feel- 
ings, and  much  of  her  ability  to  con- 
vey those  feelings  through  poetry 


has    stemmed    from    those    early 
years. 

As  far  as  her  greatest  source  of 
information  is  concerned,  there  are 
many.  One  of  Ms.  Sanchez's  main 
reasons  for  writing  is  to  "tell  peo- 
ple what  is  happening  to  them," 
and  what  "has  happened  to  them." 
She  said  that  she  has  been  inspired 
by  those  people  who  have  gone 
before  her  and  have  tried  to 
achieve  similar  goals  in  their 
writing.  Ms.  Sanchez  also  said  that 
she  has  been  inspired  by  such  poets 
as  Margret  Walker  and  Gwendolyn 


90     Drum 


Brooks  whose  goals  have  been  to 
tell  the  truth  about  life  and  make 
people  aware  of  themselves  and 
their  condition,  and  to  show  the 
beauty  of  the  Black  face.  She  has 
read  many  works  by  these  and 
other  poets  and  has  tried  to  cap- 
ture their  tradition  of  writing. 

Another  major  source  of  inspira- 
tion in  her  writing  is  children.  Ac- 
cording to  Ms.  Sanchez,  "children 
are  so  receptive  to  poetry  and 
truth."  They  are  uninhibited  and 
free  from  the  social  pressures 
which  are  placed  upon  them  in  the 


Photograph  by  Debbie  Lee 


adult  world.  They  have  no  fears 
and  reservations  about  life  and 
death,  therefore  they  can  believe 
and  accept  the  true  feelings  and 
emotions  that  are  present  in  much 
of  today's  poetry.  Many  of  her 
children's  stories  and  poems  are 
written  for  her  own  children,  as 
well  as  for  other  children  that  she 
has  met  and  grown  close  to. 

When  asked  if  there  was  any 
relationship  between  the  Nation  of 
Islam  and  her  poetry,  Ms.  Sanchez 
stated  that  every  Black  person 
writing  today  has  had  a  relation- 


ship to  the  Nation  of  Islam.  In  the 
50' s,  Elijah  Muhammad  told  his 
people  that  they  were  Black  and 
they  didn't  respond  to  him.  Blacks 
didn't  want  to  be  told  that  they 
were  Black  because  at  that  time. 
Black  was  considered  dirty  and  not 
nice.  Their  feeling  of  self  worth 
was  lessened  by  being  called  Black. 
It  wasn't  until  the  arrival  of 
Malcolm  to  the  Nation  of  Islam  that 
their  feeling  of  self  worth  came  full 
circle.  Malcolm  stood  up  and  told 
the  Black  people  that  they  were 
Black,  and  people  started  to  listen 
to  him.  He  was  a  young,  vibrant 
speaker,  and  the  people  in  the  Na- 
tion started  to  say,  'maybe  we  are 
Black.'  Malcolm  made  Blacks 
understand  their  history  and  the 
things  that  had  happened  to  them 
in  this  country.  This  was  very  im- 
portant for  the  progress  and 
growth  of  the  Black  people  as  a 
whole.  "At  this  level,"  Ms.  Sanchez 
states,  "every  writer  that  says,  'I'm 
a  Black  writer,'  has  had  that  rela- 
tionship with  Malcolm  and  the  Na- 
tion of  Islam."  He/she  had  been  in- 
spired to  tell  the  Black  people  that 
they  are  Black  and  show  them  what 
it  means  to  be  Black  in  this  coimtry. 
Ms.  Sanchez  has  foimd  a  variety 
of  poetic  techniques  useful  in  her 
writing.  She  had  read  a  lot  of  poets 
and  gotten  many  techniques  from 
the  way  those  poets  write.  Like 
most  other  poets,  Ms.  Sanchez  uses 
such  techniques  as  imagery  and 
alliteration  to  create  a  certain  feel- 
ing or  mood  in  her  poetry.  She  has 
written  almost  every  form  of  poetry 
imaginable;  from  the  sonnet  down 
to  the  ballad  and  the  haiku  form. 
Such  things  as  Black  english.  Black 
dialect,  unusual  punctuation, 
slashes,  and  small  letters  are  often 
used  to  stimulate  a  certain  feeling 
or  reaction  from  the  poetry.  She 
also  makes  use  of  musical  notations 
and  rhythm.  In  many  of  her  poems, 
there  are  notations  to  clap  hands, 
sing,  or  chant  certain  words  or 
phrases.  Ms.  Sanchez  stated  that 
she    uses    every    "element    she 


Drum     91 


knows;  colors,  water,  sun,  and  the 
sea."  Everything  she  sees  and  feels 
when  writing,  she  incorporates  into 
her  poetry. 

Ms.  Sanchez  was  once  quoted  as 
saying  she  writes  song  poems. 
When  asked  to  comment  on  what 
she  meant  by  that,  she  stated  that 
she  heard  music  when  she  wrote 
many  of  her  poems.  For  many  years 
she  heard  the  music  and  was  temp- 
ted to  sing  her  poems,  but  she  never 
dared  to.  At  a  reading  not  too  long 
ago,  Ms.  Sanchez  took  the  chance 
and  sung  part  of  a  poem.  It  worked. 
A  new  life  and  feeling  was  given  to 
her  poetry.  From  that  point  on,  the 
singing,  chanting,  clapping,  stutter- 
ing, and  tapping  were  considered 
an  important  part  of  her  poetry. 
Special  notations  for  music  and 
sound  effects  were  essential  to  ful- 
ly luiderstand  and  feel  her  poetry. 

Rhythm  is  especially  important 
in  her  children's  stories.  Ms.  San- 
chez stated  that  there  is  a  lot  of 
rhythm  and  movement  behind  her 
children's  "stuff."  "You  can  hear 
clapping  in  the  background  and  it's 
like  a  song."  The  rhythm  creates  a 
feeling  of  lightheartedness  and 
playfulness  which  coincides  with 
the  whole  idea  of  children  and 
childhood. 

When  asked  about  the  possibility 
of  writing  an  autobiography,  Ms. 
Sanchez's  main  comment  was,  "I'm 
too  young  to  write  one."  She  feels 
that  not  enough  has  happened  to 


her  at  this  point  in  her  life  to  write 
an  autobiography  now.  Ms.  San- 
chez stated  that  the  best  time  to 
write  an  autobiography  is  when 
"you've  reached  that  point  in  your 
lifetime  when  you  tie  up  all  that  has 
happened  to  you  and  you  can  let 
people  know  how  you've  found 
yourself  in  the  world."  She  stated 
that  she  needed  more  time  to  find 
herself. 

As  for  the  possible  structure  and 
writing  of  an  autobiography  when 
the  time  comes,  Ms.  Sanchez  said 
that  she  would  probably  wait  to  a 
point  in  her  life  when  she  could  see 
exactly  what  her  life  has  meant. 
Then,  with  the  help  of  a  diary  that 
she  has  kept  for  years,  she  would 
start  from  her  early  childhood  and 
explain  how  she  got  to  that  point  in 
her  lifetime. 

Some  people  feel  that  the  mean- 
ing of  a  poem  changes  when  it  is 
read  aloud  by  the  author  as  op- 
posed to  being  read  silently  by  the 
reader.  When  asked  how  she  felt 
about  that,  Ms.  Sanchez  said  she 
didn't  agree.  The  'feeling'  gotten 
from  the  poem  may  change  because 
of  the  different  emphasis  put  on  dif- 
ferent words  by  the  author,  but  the 
meaning  of  the  poem  remains  the 
same.  Ms.  Sanchez  feels  that  there 
is  a  private  relationship  between 
the  reader  and  the  poet  during  a 
reading  that  creates  the  meaning 
and  feeling  of  a  poem.  She  feels 


that  it  is  important  for  a  reader  to 
Hsten  to  a  poet's  reading  and  then 
go  back  and  read  the  poem 
him/herself  remembering  the  way  it 
was  read  by  the  poet.  By  doing  so, 
the  reader  gets  his  own  feeling 
from  the  poem  as  well  as  the 
writer's,  and  combined,  the  reader 
gets  a  'total'  feeling.  Ms.  Sanchez 
feels  that  there  can  be  a  variety  of 
feelings  gotten  from  just  one  piece 
of  poetry.  There  is  no  one  'way'  to 
imderstand  a  poem  or  one  'feeling' 
gotten  from  a  poem,  that  is  more 
important  than  any  other.  It  is  the 
combined  emotion  which  creates 
the  meaning  of  a  poem. 

According  to  Ms.  Sanchez, 
"Poetry  is  universal."  It  is 
something  that  people  all  over  the 
world  can  read  and  enjoy.  No  mat- 
ter what  shape,  form,  or  language 
poetry  is  found  in,  it  leaves  the 
reader  with  a  certain  feeling  and 
emotion  that  is  known  the  world 
round.  Although  every  individual 
who  reads  poetry  gets  a  very  in- 
dividualistic feeling  from  it 
based  on  their  own  past  ex- 
periences, there  is  an  overall  warm 
and  gentle  feeling  that  remains  in 
the  hearts  and  souls  of  everyone. 
Poems  written  by  Sonia  Sanchez 
are  no  different.  The  deep  feeling 
of  warmth  and  love  remains 
whenever  one  listens  to  her  read 
her  poems  aloud,  or  reads  them  in 
their  own  silence. 


THE  CASE  OF  LIZ  YOUNG 
AND  KENNY  CHIN 


by  Debbie  Lee 

Elizabeth  Yoimg  and  Kenneth  R. 
Chin,  who  is  currently  an  En- 
vironmental Health  major  at  the 
University  of  Massachusetts  in 
Amherst,  were  taken  into  custody 
by  the  Secret  Service  on  October  4, 
1975.  The  news  headlines  flashed 
that  the  Secret  Service  had  aborted 
a  suspected  assassination  plot 
against  Emperor  Hirohito  of  Japan. 
At  that  time.  Emperor  Hirohito  was 
making  a  historical  first  visit  to  the 
United  States. 

After  making  international  news 
with  this  arrest  of  the  Chinese- 
American  couple,  the  Secret  Ser- 
vice quietly  handed  them  over  to 
the  Bureau  of  Alcohol,  Tobacco 
and  Firearms  for  prosecution.  The 
Secret  Service  had  found  no 
evidence  to  support  and  charge 
them  with  any  kind  of  violation. 

The  Government  first  placed  Liz 
on  trial  alone.  The  charges  were 
for  conspiracy  and  transport  of  a 
firearm  illegally  into  New  York 
from  California  (this  firearm  was 
the  alleged  potential  danger  to  the 
Emperor.)  Liz  was  acquitted  of  the 


conspiracy  charge.  There  was  a 
himg  jury  on  the  second  charge 
because  the  jurors  could  not  come 
to  an  agreement  on  the  illogical  in- 
terpretation of  the  residence 
clause  of  the  Federal  Gun  Control 
Act  of  1968  given  them  by  the 
Judge. 

The  government  then  decided  to 
place  Liz  and  Kenny  on  trial 
together,  for  literally  the  same 
charges  that  were  placed  on  Liz 
during  the  first  trial.  This  time,  the 
jury  was  prompted  to  interpret  the 
term  residence  (from  the  residence 
clause  of  the  Federal  Gtui  Control 
Act  of  1968],  as  equated  to  domicile 
by  the  Chief  Judge  Mishler.  This 
automatically  rules  out  one  of  the 
exceptions  to  the  Gun  Control  Act: 
a  person  may  transport  a  firearm 
across  state  lines  if  he  has  dual 
residency.  With  the  Chief  Judge 
Mishler' s  new  interpretation,  this 
clause  no  longer  held  in  that  court 
since  a  person  may  only  have  one 
domicile.  At  this  second  trial,  the 
jury  fouind  Liz  guilty  of  illegal 
transport  of  a  firearm.  They  found 
Kenny  guilty  of  both  conspiracy 
and  the  illegal  transport  of  the 
same  firearm. 

Both  Liz  and  Kenny  (licensed 
hunters]  claim  not  guilty  of 
violating  the  Federal  Gun  Control 
Act.  Liz  had  bought  the  rifle  with 
legal  identifications  while  in 
residence  in  California.  Liz  was 
moving  from  one  state  of  residence 
to  another  when  she  brought  the 
gim  along  with  the  rest  of  her 
belongings  to  New  York  from 
California.  The  Gun  Control  Act 
makes  the  exception  of  transport- 
ing one's  personal  firearm  when 
moving  from  one  state  to  another. 

According  to  an  interview  with 
Liz,  "The  whole  thing  was  what 
they  called  selective  investigation 
and  prosecution.  The  fact  that  I 
have  bought  a  rifle,  I  guess,  gave 
them  the  excuse  for  the  original  ar- 
rest.   Actually,   the   Federal   Gun 


Control  Act  has  rarely  been  enforc- 
ed. This  law  was  basically  enacted 
to  regulate  commercial  trade  of 
firearms  across  state  lines.  In  fact, 
about  three  months  ago,  there  was 
a  feature  article  in  New  York 
Magazine  called  'Nice  People  Who 
Owned  Guns.'  There  was  a  picture 
of  this  woman  who  was  saying  that 
she  went  to  Arizona  and  bought  a 
gun  which  she  brought  back  to  New 
York  with  her.  She  didn't  know  that 
there  were  any  laws.  Yet,  nobody 
arrested  her.  They  pursued  this 
law  vigorously  as  their  justification 
for  their  original  action  against 
us." 

It  seems  that  at  the  time  of 
Emperor  Hirohito's  visit  to  the  U.S., 
the  Secret  Service  was  under 
tremendous  pressure  because  of 
the  attempts  on  President  Ford's 
life  by  Lynette  Fronune  and  Sara 
Jane  Moore.  Once  the  Secret  Ser- 
vice had  arrested  Liz  and  Kenny  to 
so  called  prevent  an  assassination 
plot  on  Hirohito's  life,  they  could 
not  free  them  even  though  there 
were  no  evidence  to  support  the 
charges.  More  headlines  would  be 
made  to  question  the  Secret  Ser- 
vice's ability  to  do  their  job. 

The  question  still  remains  as  to 
why  the  Secret  Service  picked  Liz 
and  Kenny  as  their  Scapegoats.  Liz 
offers  some  possible  explanations, 
"Both  Kenny  and  I  were  very  active 
in  the  Chinatown  community, 
especially  me,  having  been  the  first 
woman  director  of  a  youth  program 
in  Chinatown.  Both  Kenny  and  I 
have  been  actively  working  in  the 
health  field.  We  helped  to  organize 
the  first  Chinatown  health  fair  in 
1971.  .  .  ,  We  were  very  vocal,  that 
made  us  good  targets.  People  who 
stand  out  are  easy  targets,  this 
doesn't  mean  people  shouldn't 
stand  out  and  they  shouldn't  try  to 
change  things." 

"The  only  thing  I  can  think  of,  is 
they  [Secret  Service)  are  trying  to 
moke  an  example  of  us,  I  think  that 


Drum    93 


by  arresting  us,  they  were  trying  to 
subdue  and  discourage  the  kind  of 
community  activities  and  organiz- 
ing that  was  happening  in  the 
Asian-American  communities, 
something  which  is  very  new.  So  by 
arresting  two  of  the  most  active 
local  organizers  and  workers  in 
Chinatown,  I  think  the  Secret  Ser- 
vice thought  that  they  may  he  able 
to  discourage  other  people  from 
getting  involved." 

From  being  involved  in  this  case, 
Liz  has  learned  that,  "We  are  stiJJ 
minorities  in  the  eyes  of  the  legal 
systems  and  judges.  We  were  col- 
ored people.  It  was  a  hard  reality 
we  faced,  but  I  have  learned  from 
it.  This  was  a  lesson  I  can  share,  in 
terms  of  the  legal  system,  you  have 
to  have  a  big  name  or  lots  of  money, 
or  you  ore  of  the  white  middle 
class.  Otherwise,  you  don't  have  a 
chance  unless  you  fight  for  it, 
unless  you  moke  sure  and  are 
prepared  to  deal  with  what  will 
happen  to  you." 

What  happened  to  Liz  and  Kenny 
is  not  unique  in  terms  of  the  Asian- 
American  Community  of  the  United 
States.  Other  cases  such  as  the  ar- 
rest of  the  Tarn  brothers  of  Boston 
a  couple  of  years  ago  can  be  cited 
where  the  law  picked  to  arrest  the 
non-whites  involved  in  an  incident, 
rather  than  the  white-Americans. 

Historically,  Asian-Americans, 
though  an  integral  part  of 
American  society,  have  been  used 
as  scapegoats  in  times  of  mass 
hysteria.  Such  outrageous  acts  are 
exemplified  by  the  mass  round  up 
of  Japanese-American  citizens 
along  the  West  Coast  during  World 
War  II.  They  chose  to  encamp  the 
Japanese-Americans  who  were 
never  involved  in  any  subversive 
activities  rather  than  the  German- 
or  Italian-Americans  who  were 
known  to  be  involved  in  activities 
against  the  Allied  forces. 

This  case  involving  Liz  and  Ken- 
ny showed  not  only  the  racist  at- 
titudes still  rampant  in  the  legal 
system,  but  also  its  sexist  attitudes. 

"A  s(;xi.s(  ulf/liiilc  was  used  to 
reinforce  the  prosecution's 
arguments.  Also,  if  was  a  strategy 
used  by  the  judge  to  discredit  my 
lawyer  who  happens  to  be  a 
woman.  In  the  first  trial,  the  Judge's 
attitude  was  not  as  hostile  even 
though    he    did    say    things    like. 


'You're  just  like  my  wife,  you  don't 
listen'.  But  in  the  second  trial,  he 
was  obviously  hostile  towards  her 
by  constantly  doing  things  to  moke 
her  look  bod  and  incompetent.  The 
attitude  was.  what  is  a  woman  do- 
ing in  a  court  of  law.  and  of  course, 
it  reflected  upon  me  as  a  defendant. 
At  one  point,  he  made  a  snide 
remark,  'What's  a  nice  lady  plumb- 
er who  happens  to  be  a  hunter  do- 
ing with  a  smoke  bomb  in  her 
blouse.'  (Actually  a  hunting  flare 
for  lost  hunters.)" 

"The  whole  sexism  was  on  the 
basic  assumption  that  women  don't 
buy  guns,  women  don't  hunt.  The 
judge  kept  saying  that  it  didn't  mat- 
ter if  1  was  a  hunter,  he  left  it  up  to 
the  jury's  own  assumptions  that 
women  don't  buy  guns  because 
women  don't  use  guns." 


Photograph  by  Edward  Cohen 

"This  gets  into  my  right  to  have 
property,  because  the  gun  in  ques- 
tion was  in  my  name.  J  had  pul-- 
chased  it  and  I  had  moved  it  when  I 
came  back  to  New  York.  Yet,  the 
judge  was  able  to  tell  the  jury  that 
they  could  infer  joint  possession  by 
the  fact  that  Kenny  and  I  lived 
together.  Even  though  the  gun  was 
in  my  name,  the  assumption  was 
that  I  must  have  'done  it'  (bought  it] 
for  Kenny  because  women  just 
don't  act  on  their  own  behalf,  so 
Kenny  had  to  be  the  mastermind 
since  women  don't  buy  guns  on 
their  own.  .  .  " 

"Another  thing  was  the 
residence  issue.  The  fact  is  that  I 
am  a  very  mobile  person,  having 
lived  in  many  places.  The  judge  took 
away  my  defense  by  refusing  to 
allow  my  father  to  testify  in  my 


94     Drum 


behalf  about  how  I  went  back  to 
California  to  stay  this  time.  Once 
this  defense  was  disallowed  in  the 
second  trial  the  jury  thought  I  was 
just  taking  a  pleasure  trip  to 
California  as  opposed  to  what  it 
really  was.  They  thought  that  I  was 
still  hooked  up  to  Kenny." 

It  was  through  the  use  of  such 
sexist  attitude  that  the  government 
got  away  with  holding  a  second 
trial  in  which  both  Liz  and  Kenny 
were  convicted  with  violating  the 
Federal  Gun  Control  Act. 

Although  both  Liz  and  Kenny 
were  given  three  years  probation 
instead  of  imprisonment  or  a  fine, 
their  names  are  forever  smeared 
as  convicted  felons  in  the  eyes  of 
society.  Both  have  gained  public 
support    everywhere.    But    the 


Supreme  Court  has  refused  to 
review  their  case,  even  though  the 
solicitor  general  had  declared  that 
there  was  no  evidence  to  support 
Kenny's  conviction. 

After  almost  two  and  a  half 
years  of  hard  work  trying  to  clear 
their  names  Liz  and  Kenny  are  still 
far  from  seeing  such  a  miracle,  in 
face  of  the  court's  unwillingness  to 
review  their  case.  "So  far."  Liz 
puts  it,  "Our  Jives  are  in  Jimbo,  we 
haven't  been  able  to  plan  anything 
Jong  range.  .  .  " 

"I  am  just  beginning  to  Jearn  how 
devastating  the  effect  on  my  health 
has  been  from  the  case,  the  tension 
and  the  pressure.  I  have  developed 
an  irregular  heartbeat.  I  have  just 
compJeted  a  whoJe  series  of  car- 
diac tests.  .  .  I  feel  strongly  that  it 


has  been  the  trial.  .  .  "1  have  to 
slow  down,  because  if  I  don't  take 
care  of  it.  .  .  ,  it  may  have  a 
deleterious  effect  on  my  health." 

So  now,  both  Liz  and  Kenny  will 
be  slowing  down  their  efforts  to 
clear  their  names,  however  they 
will  continue  to  fight,  for  their 
rights  and  other  Asian-Americans, 
rights  as  citizens  of  this  country. 


For   more   information   about   the 
case,  please  contact: 

Young/Chin  Legal  Aid  Committee 
c/o  Asian-American  Resource 

Center 
199  Lafayette  St. 
New  York,  N.Y.  10012 


Photograph  by  Debbie  Lee 

Drum    93 


mv.  OF  MASS. 
ARCHIVE 


STAFF 


President Margarita  Vargas 

Administrative  Secretary Siierwin  Moyston 

Business  Manager Carl  Yates 

Correspondence Kim  Hill 

Editor Cheryl  L  Crowell 

Assistant  Editor Lisa  DiRocco 

Photography  Editor Ana  Andreu 

Art  Editor Margarita  Vargas 

Co-Editor Carl  Yates 

Staff Kelly  Wright 

Tony  Crayton 

Janet  Rausa 

Debbie  Lee 

Laverne  D.  Mitchell 

Sharon  Turpin 

Mary  E.  Custard 

Dana  DeBarros 

Carmelo  Medina 

Cleora  Francis 

Nadine  Kee 

Karen  Yuen 

Antar  Shakir 

,       Matthew  McDonald 

Sharleen  Dickinson 

Advisor Nelson  Stevens 

Professor  of  Art 

W.E.B.  Dubois  Department 

of  African-American  Studies 

Special  thanks  to  our  dear  Professor;  Nelson,  without  you 

it  wouldn't  have  been  the  same. 

Love, 
Drum . . . 


96     Drum 


EV.  MARTIN  LUTHER 
KING.  Jr. 

1929  —  1968 

Tree  at  last,  free  at.last. 

thank  god  almighty 

i'm  free  at- last" 


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