J.W.M. (Colored)

No pictures exist of Mary E. Mann or "J.W.M. (Colored)," the person who wrote on her behalf.

No pictures exist of Mary E. Mann or “J.W.M. (Colored),” the person who wrote on her behalf.

I wanted desperately to start my book Black Writing from Chicago: In the World, Not of It? with something from John Baptiste Pointe Du Sable, the black man famed for being Chicago’s founder—that is, the first, permanent, non-Native American settler.  I remember saying to librarians at Chicago’s wonderful Newberry Library that I would take anything: a scrap of the tiniest note, even a bill of sale.  I could find nothing, not entirely surprising since Du Sable’s birth year, birth place, and parents are unknown.  Was he French-Canadian? Was he born in Hispaniola or Haiti?

Then wandering through a book on education in Chicago, I ran across the name Mary E. Mann, and in a footnote to that name I found mention of a letter written to, and published in, the Chicago Tribune in 1861.  Searching through microfiche at the Harold Washington Library I made one of the best finds of the book (or of my entire research career!).  The letter was signed “J.W.M. (Colored)”—the parenthesis, in those days, being required to accompany the name of anyone who wasn’t white.  And the letter is a tiny masterpiece.  It is a far better beginning to Black Writing from Chicago than, say, a Du Sable bill of sale, no matter how historic that might have been.

Even less is known about the actual identity of J.W.M. (Colored), though it might be reasonable to suppose that the “M” suggests a relationship to Mary E. Mann.  The letter manages to range widely, using many of the major themes of black advocacy writing of the time, including the nobleness of the Africa and pride in the fact that the first person to die in America’s Revolutionary War was Crispus Attucks, a Black man.  The piece also ends with startling thoughts concerning miscegenation.  “I too,” writes J.W.M. (Colored), “am opposed to mingling the races.  Who are the abettors and controllers of amalgamation if not the slaveholders and the Northern bloodhounds?  Is it the African?  Ah, no.  Those gentlemen who preach so loudly against it, may be designated as its daily foes and its nightly abettors!”

The letter’s most immediate purpose, however, was to argue for Mary E. Mann’s admission to a Chicago high school.  Mann had graduated from Dearborn elementary school with the necessary marks but was originally denied admission because she was “of Negro birth.”  The controversy divided the Chicago school board, though Mann was eventually admitted, becoming the first black to attend an Illinois high school.  She graduated tenth in the Normal program which prepared girls for teaching in the city’s school but was not allowed to sit with her classmates on stage or march forward to receive her diploma.  She was appointed to a colored school that had opened June 15, 1863, and though the school was constantly troubled and closed after only 22 months, Mann’s pioneer status remains.

  Go a list of Black Writers on this site.

  Go to the Black Writing from Chicago main page, or the Teaching Diversity main page.

 Read my essay “Miscegenation and Me.”

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Ken Green’s One Man Parade

Ken Green

Ken Green

Ken Green (b. 1964) used to be a graphic artist for the Department of Children and Family Services in Chicago, and was perhaps the funniest slam poet on the Chicago scene, until…(see below). Though he was not the youngest writer in my book Black Writing from Chicago, I ended it with him because few could follow him, especially on stage.  “I have,” Green says, “written serious stuff that I am saving for a special occasion, like my anticipated posthumous best-seller.” A member of three National Poetry Slam teams (for the Green Mill in 1999 and 2003, and Wicker Park in 2002), he has performed at many venues around the Chicago area and, he says, has “even been permitted to transport…poetry across state lines.”  In 2002 he placed second in the Austin International Poetry Festival.  Though humor is the hallmark of his writing and performing, audiences also know the seriousness of Green’s commentary, whether his subject is heavy—the gunning down of Amadu Diallo by New York police, for example—or lighter, like “cure-all pills with side effects…worse than the original ailment.”  He has published a chapbook entitled Ken Green’s Good Poems, which does little to dispel the rumor that he does, indeed, own Kiss albums, as he admits in the poem “One Man Parade,” about a parade populated by all the Chicago black men he knows named Ken Green: exactly one.  “Look, here come the African American men named Ken Green who are reluctant to admit they own more than four Kiss albums…”

“Of course, there were those among the throng
who opposed my lifestyle,
whose very looks hissed
and saw my presence
as undermining the thinning moral fabric of society.

“We don’t want Ken Green in our schools
teaching our children”

“Ken Green should not be allowed to adopt
under any circumstances”

“The Bible clearly states that Ken Green
is an abomination in the eyes of the Lord.”

 
What blacks are or aren’t supposed to do—like own Kiss albums—is often the subject of his poems, but the poem “Debate” is about what nobody is supposed to do:

 
“When debating the existence of God
with a grizzly bear,
whatever you do
do NOT mention Nietzsche.”

He goes on to offer advice on debating other animals—alligators, lowland gorillas:

“When discussing the effects of industry on world politics
with a Florida alligator,
try not to mention the connection
between Henry Ford
and the development of the German auto industry.
Instead slowly slip your hand under his lower jaw
and yank upward sharply while shouting
‘The workers control the means of production!’
‘The workers control the means of production!'”

But by far the most dangerous exchanges are with humans:  “When discussing anything with a human being,” Green counsels, “keep your arms inside the vehicle at all times.”

When I had him read for me at the Congress Hotel during an international conference I was directing, he said, “Hey, what am I doing in a room like this?  I usually read down the street at Weeds.”  My wife and I have never been to Weeds, but Ken Green may be her favorite poet. When I finally said Yes to doing Black Writing from Chicago, her first questions was, “So how many Ken Green poems are you going to use?”  Two.  I had room enough for just “Debate” and “One Man Parade.”  I regret that as much as I regret any of the many other pieces, Green’s or otherwise, I didn’t have room for.

Ken GreenI used to wish I had an actual picture of Ken Green to go along with this post.  We’ve met several times and even shared a stage, but the generic blank picture form—whose outlines don’t resemble Ken’s in the slightest—seemed somehow appropriate, and I used it at the beginning of this post even though now I actually do have a picture.  It’s at left with the ugly details below.

Ken Green has deserted Chicago.  He’s become a cultural star in…Boston, and the picture shows him outside some Boston building, I guess.  Various Boston websites say things like, “Ken Green brought Story Club to Boston in 2013…Ken started off in the poetry slam scene, becoming a member of four Chicago teams to compete in the National Poetry Slam,” one more than I reported above when I first wrote this intro.  Ken Green, they say, “Turned his attention to fiction and essays writing several years ago, as well as playwriting.”  (Indeed, in 2006 he placed third in the Goodman Theater’s David Mamet Write-Alike Contest with a somewhat profane, Mametized version of The Wizard of Oz.)  They say, “He is a lifelong Chicago White Sox fan who finds his baseball patience being tested living in Boston.”  What?  Nobody out-patiences Chicago fans.

Dana Norris founded Story Club in Chicago in 2009, wanting to mix the spontaneity of an open mic with the experience of live theater.  It has drawn performers as various as history professors, New York Times bestselling authors, members of an all-girl Beastie Boys cover band—and now Ken Green, who will always be Chicago’s own, no matter what the White Sox do.

♦  Go to a list of Black Writers on this site, and the Black Writing from Chicago page, where you can also BUY the book.

♦  Go to the Teaching Diversity main page, or the Poetry main page.

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Introduction to Black Writing from Chicago – Part 2

Cover for Black Writing from ChicagoThis is Part 2 of the introduction to my book Black Writing from Chicago.  It continues to detail Chicago’s importance not only as a site producing great writers but also some of the greatest publishing ventures in black history, from the Chicago Defender to Johnson Publishing to Third World Press and more.  But Part 2 begins even deeper: with Chicago’s part in the very construction of blackness itself.

 Read PART 1 of the Introduction, which contains many links to related material.  Also read the book’s Foreword and Afterword, go to a list of Black writers (most are in the book), and to the Teaching Diversity main page.

____________________________

St. Clair Drake and Horace Cayton

St. Clair Drake and Horace Cayton

Chicago was also the site at which so much about the “modern, urban Negro” came to be constructed.  Charles S. Johnson, the first Black president of FiskUniversity, co-authored The Negro in Chicago, considered a landmark in sociology, as was Black Metropolis, a study of Chicago by Horace Cayton and St. Clair Drake, the first in-depth study of Black urban life.  And inevitably there is Richard Wright, whose Bigger Thomas, the center of Native Son (a national sensation in 1940) created a mythic kind of Black consciousness that defined decades of thinking about Blackness that continues to this present day.  “The scene of modernism for Blacks,” writes Houston A. Baker, Jr.,

“was to be a Chicago of the intellect and imagination, an urban space in which an archetypal “Bigger” Black consciousness was to find itself caught in a nightmare of acquisitive real estate owners, callous labor leaders, corrupt political officials and morally blind social welfare workers.  Bigger in the electric chair might well have been emblematically and realistically enacted by the Black Panthers’ leader, Fred Hampton, who was murdered by the [Chicago] State’s Attorney’s office in 1969.”7

Robert S. Abbott

Robert S. Abbott

These social and mental constructs emanating from Chicago have been central to Black culture worldwide.  But culture is also literally published forth, and Chicago was the site of some of the most important publishing ventures in Black history.  Robert S. Abbott’s Chicago Defender first appeared in May 1905 and went on to become the largest Black-owned paper in the world, at one time claiming an international readership of over 500,000 a week.  Running editorials, cartoons, and train schedules, the Defender fueled the Great Northern Migration, which brought over a million Blacks north, over 100,000 of them to Chicago.  Among its regular commentators were W.E.B. DuBois, and Langston Hughes.  Reading a collection of letters between Hughes and Arna Bontemps, it was easy to notice the Defender being mentioned more often than any other site of publishing.  Hughes is represented in this collection because the Defender was the site of his first regular column and the birth place of Jesse B. Semple and all the “Tales of Simple” which followed.8

In 1996 John H. Johnson received the Presidential Medal of Freedom, primarily for starting the Johnson Publishing Company in 1942, a signal event in American history.  Besides publishing Ebony and Jet, Johnson, especially when the fiery Hoyt W. Fuller edited for him, had an enormous influence on Black writing through the publication of the Negro Digest (later Black World).  Then in 1967 Haki Madhubuti, with the help of writers like Carolyn Rodgers and Johari Amini, started Third World Press, another publishing institution of incalculable significance to Black writing in Chicago and the world.

Robert S. Abbott with an initial investment of 25 cents and a press run of 300, John H. Johnson with a $500 loan against his mother’s furniture, Haki Madhubuti with $400 and an old mimeograph machine—that’s how these three great sites of Black publishing began.  This collection intends to honor these achievements, as well as hint at the importance of dozens of Chicago writers to the history of Black writing in America.

Carolyn RodgersI have arranged the book roughly in chronological order by author’s birth.  I have not divided it into the standard literary periods mentioned above (Reconstruction, Negro Renaissance, etc.) because I did not always pick a writer’s classic writing from the periods with which he or she might have been most closely associated.  I have chosen, for example, more recent work from Carolyn Rodgers, whose work today seems to me as fine as her work in the Black Arts Movement in the 60’s and early 70’s.  I have not chosen the most fiery 60’s poems of Haki Madhubuti, but later work which turns that fire inward for the sake of rejuvenating the Black community from the inside out.  I thought it more important to try to reflect the unfolding and persistence of the integrationist-separatist tension.  That too sometimes wrinkles chronology.  Leonidas Berry, for example, was never seen as a literary type, and his work was written decades after the place it occupies in the contents.  I have put it close to selections from the Intercollegiate and Era Bell Thompson, however, not only because of his birth date, but also because it carries a similar tone and take towards the in-the-world-not-of-it theme.

John Jones

John Jones

Given exceptions like these, however, reading this book cover to cover unfolds a story that roughly reflects literary periods.  The history of Black writing in America is usually divided into seven periods, of which I mentioned the middle five above.  These five are flanked on the front end by the so-called Colonial Period (1746-1800) and on the back end by the Neo-Realist Movement (the 1970’s and on).  Writers from Chicago have played a major role in every period except the Colonial, for obvious reasons.  In this collection, John Jones’ The Black Laws of Illinois represents the Antebellum Period (1800-1865); and Ida B. Well’s pamphlet against participation in the 1893 World’s Fair is a major document of the Reconstruction Period (1865-1900).

Audrey Petty and Tyehimba Jess

Audrey Petty and Tyehimba Jess

Among the most important authors of the Negro Renaissance (1900-1940, of which the Harlem Renaissance was just a part) are Fenton Johnson and Frank Marshall Davis, although Davis is often seen as a key player in the next movement, too.  Davis, with Richard Wright, Frank London Brown, Lorraine Hansberry, and Gwendolyn Brooks were central to the Protest Movement (1940-1959), though Brooks is also seen as central to the next movement.  This Black Arts Movement (BAM) of the 60’s was fueled by Haki Madhubuti, Carolyn Rogers, Johari Amini, Angela Jackson, Hoyt W. Fuller and many other Chicago writers, some of whom—like Sandra Jackson-Opoku—have gone on, with the likes of Chicago-area native Charles Johnson, to produce important works in the Neo-realist Movement which began in the 70’s and, under the powerful influence of Toni Morrison and others, dominates Black writing today.  This writing shares the stage, however, with still-vibrant 60’s influences, part of which show up in the resurgence of performance poetry.  Chicago performance and Slam poets like Tyehimba Jess, Tara Betts, Regie Gibson, and Marvin Tate are among the most exciting in the nation and read almost as well on the page as they play on the stage.

BettsReflecting literary periods, following the complex flows of a theme, catching the gritty, occasionally sentimental tone of Chicago Black writing—besides these duties I have also tried to choose writing I by and large enjoyed for its use of language, its honesty, its probing logic.  In a forward to Johari Amini’s collection of poems Let’s Go Somewhere, Gwendolyn Brooks summed up so much of what writing can do and be all at once in terms of language and form and feeling and social and thematic significance.  She also captures a uniqueness related to what I tried to convey at the beginning of this introduction.  There is no better way to end an introduction to Black writing from Chicago than to return to the very beginning and again quote Gwendolyn Brooks, who always preferred “Black” to African-American:

“There is such freedom in what the “new” Black poets are doing now.  They feel FREE to do what they want to do, to commit Sins against any of the Academies, against any of the musty Musts.   To use—as they experiment, feel out, grope toward their various kinds of Way—Too many capitals, Too many dots and slants and dashes, Too much alliteration.  They feel free to run words together, or pull them impudently and unprecendentedly away from each other.  To make a squalling harmony.  Johari’s poems are of the essence of this constructive impudence, this endorsement of chainlessness, this singular blend of confidence and awe.” 9

I am haunted by the many who have been left out—Leon Forrest, for example—and try to make some small amends in my Afterword.  But I hope enough have been included for you to catch some glimpse of Chicago Black writing’s more quality, a quality compounded of “squalling harmony” and “constructive impudence,” of  “confidence and awe” blended in a singular way indeed.

NOTES
1  Hoyt W. Fuller, “Towards a Black Aesthetic,” in The Black Aesthetic, ed. Addison Gayle, Jr. (New York: Anchor Books, 1972): 9.
2  For an example of the standard divisions of Black literary history see the Table of Contents in Rochelle Smith and Sharon L. Jones (eds.), The Prentice Hall Anthology of African American Literature (Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice Hall,2000).
3  Hoyt W. Fuller, “The New Black Literature: Protest or Affirmation,” in The Black Aesthetic, ed. Addison Gayle, Jr. (New York: Anchor Books, 1972): 330, 336.  This essay, along with the one mentioned in note 1 above, is considered a seminal essay in Black cultural critique.
4  See James Baldwin, “My Dungeon Shook,” the first part of The Fire Next Time, in Collected Essays (New York: Literary Classics of the United States/Library of America, 1998): 293.
5  In his essay “Junior and John Doe,” in Lure and Loathing: Essays on Race, Identity, and the Ambivalence of Assimilation, ed. Gerald Early (New York: Allen Lane/Penguin Press, 1993): 175-176, James Alan McPherson quotes Ellison as saying: “I tell white kids that instead of talking about black men in a white world or about black men in white society, they should ask themselves how black they are because black men have been influencing the values of the society and the art forms of the society.  How many of their parents fell in love listening to Nat King Cole?”
6  “Controversial Cosby,” ABC Nightline, 26 May 2005.
7  Houston A. Baker, “Critical Memory and the Black Public Sphere,” in The Black Public Sphere: A Public Culture Book, ed. The Black Public Sphere Collective (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1995): 31.
8  See Langston Hughes, Arna Bontemps, Arna Bontemps-Langston Hughes Letters, 1925-1967, ed. Charles H. Nichols (New York: Paragon House, 1990).
9  Gwendolyn Brooks, Introduction to Johari Amini, Let’s Go Somewhere (Chicago: Third World Press, 1970): 7-8.

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