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Review of “The Longest Fight: In the Ring with Joe Gans, Boxing’s First African American Champion” by William Gildea

THE LONGEST FIGHT

In the Ring With Joe Gans, Boxing’s
First African American Champion

By William Gildea
Farrar Straus Giroux. 245 pp. $26

The boxer Joe Gans is largely forgotten today. Mild-mannered, he lacked the boisterous charisma of Jack Johnson or Muhammad Ali. But from 1902 to 1908, he was the world lightweight king, America’s first black boxing champion.  In 1906, in the 100-degree fug of the southern Nevada desert, he took on Oscar “Battling” Nelson in a legendary 42-round fight, two hours and 48 minutes, the longest bout of the 20th century. The match and Gans’s story are the subject of “The Longest Fight,” a gem of a book by former Washington Post sports columnist William Gildea.

Making A Home For John Coltrane's Legacy : NPR

In 1964, John Coltrane moved from Queens, N.Y., to a brick ranch house on a 31/2 acre wooded lot in the quiet suburb of Dix Hills. This bucolic setting — 40 miles east of the city — is perhaps the last place you’d expect to find a musician creating the virtuosic jazz that Coltrane is famous for.   “I believe the solitude and the beauty of Long Island gave him something he had not had or experienced before,” he says. “Clearly it affected the way he conceived.”

But Ravi Coltrane, the son of John and Alice Coltrane, who was herself a noted jazz pianist and harpist, says the woods were part of his father’s creative process.

Ravi Coltrane was born in 1965 and lived in the Dix Hills house until he was six.

“This is my sister’s room over here. Michelle — this is her bedroom,” he says. “This was the boys’ room back here; this is the room I shared with my two brothers, John Jr. and Oran.”‘

But, Ravi Coltrane says, not all is as it was: The Coltrane Home in Dix Hills has fallen into disrepair in the 45 years after his father’s death.

Preserving The Property

Many, including Ravi Coltrane, are trying to preserve the historic property. The driving force behind the effort is Steve Fulgoni, a music store owner, amateur saxophonist and a huge Coltrane fan. He first visited the house in 2004.

“I was looking around, and I looked in the corner, which I think was in this room, and all there was was one newspaper,” Fulgoni says. “I picked up the newspaper, and I looked at the date, and the date of the newspaper was July 17, which was the anniversary of his death. And I said to myself, ‘I need to do something.'”

That same year, he founded The Friends of the Coltrane Home. Fulgoni petitioned the town of Huntington, N.Y., to declare the site a historic landmark, and two years later, to purchase the property and designate it a public park.

To read the rest of this article or listen to the story, click here: Making A Home For John Coltrane’s Legacy : NPR.

Making A Home For John Coltrane’s Legacy : NPR

In 1964, John Coltrane moved from Queens, N.Y., to a brick ranch house on a 31/2 acre wooded lot in the quiet suburb of Dix Hills. This bucolic setting — 40 miles east of the city — is perhaps the last place you’d expect to find a musician creating the virtuosic jazz that Coltrane is famous for.   “I believe the solitude and the beauty of Long Island gave him something he had not had or experienced before,” he says. “Clearly it affected the way he conceived.”

But Ravi Coltrane, the son of John and Alice Coltrane, who was herself a noted jazz pianist and harpist, says the woods were part of his father’s creative process.

Ravi Coltrane was born in 1965 and lived in the Dix Hills house until he was six.

“This is my sister’s room over here. Michelle — this is her bedroom,” he says. “This was the boys’ room back here; this is the room I shared with my two brothers, John Jr. and Oran.”‘

But, Ravi Coltrane says, not all is as it was: The Coltrane Home in Dix Hills has fallen into disrepair in the 45 years after his father’s death.

Preserving The Property

Many, including Ravi Coltrane, are trying to preserve the historic property. The driving force behind the effort is Steve Fulgoni, a music store owner, amateur saxophonist and a huge Coltrane fan. He first visited the house in 2004.

“I was looking around, and I looked in the corner, which I think was in this room, and all there was was one newspaper,” Fulgoni says. “I picked up the newspaper, and I looked at the date, and the date of the newspaper was July 17, which was the anniversary of his death. And I said to myself, ‘I need to do something.'”

That same year, he founded The Friends of the Coltrane Home. Fulgoni petitioned the town of Huntington, N.Y., to declare the site a historic landmark, and two years later, to purchase the property and designate it a public park.

To read the rest of this article or listen to the story, click here: Making A Home For John Coltrane’s Legacy : NPR.

GBN Quote Of The Day

“Presumption should never make us neglect that which appears easy to us, nor despair make us lose courage at the sight of difficulties.”
— Benjamin Banneker, self-educated inventor, mathematician, surveyor and architect

GBN Quote Of The Day

“Everybody can be great, because everybody can serve. You don’t have to have a college degree to serve. You don’t have to make your subject and verb agree to serve. You only need a heart full of grace. A soul generated by love.” — Martin Luther King, Jr.

Harlem Opera Singer 1st African-American To Top U.K. Classical Charts

Noah Stewart (pictured) grew up in Harlem dreaming of the day he would take center stage at Carnegie Hall in his hometown of New York and The Royal Opera House in London.
noah stewart opera
And while most of his musically-inclined childhood friends emulated Beyonce and D’Angelo, Stewart looked up to the legendary Black-American soprano Leontyne Price. If you have not heard of her, you are not alone. Blacks are not mainstay in the classical music world. But that fact never deterred Steward from pursuing his dream of being a world-famous opera singer. While studying at LaGuardia High School, the Harlemite honed his opera skills and worked side gigs singing backup to Mariah Carey and Hootie and the Blowfish. Though those fancy job assignments did not earn the respect of his peers because his penchant for opera made him something of anomaly.
“My friends at LaGuardia made fun of me,” says Stewart. “They used to call me ‘opera boy,’ because I was obsessed with opera. Everyone around me wanted to become a pop singer.”  
With the help of a mentor, Steward attended The Julliard School in New York after graduating from LaGuardia. While there, he busted tables, worked retail and served as a receptionist at Carnegie Hall. Somehow, he thought working at that famed musical powerhouse would position him to be “discovered.”
It didn’t quite work out that way.

“That was the lowest point for me, because it felt like I was so close to music, but so far away,” he says. “I was learning a Russian piece and I was humming the melody, and my supervisor said, ‘Excuse me, Mr. Stewart? What is that noise? Were you just humming?’ I said yeah, and she said, ‘You can’t do that here. It’s very distracting. We can hear you all the way downstairs.’ And I just remember feeling like, ‘Wow. You can’t hum at the biggest musical institution in the world.’ “

His fortunes eventually turned for the better after attending a workshop for young artists at the San Francisco Opera three years ago. Stewart’s participation at the workshop lead to a steady stream of jobs that took him around the world, and eventually led to a contract withDecca Records. His album titled, “Noah,” topped the UK classical charts, the first for an Black artist!

via NewsOne.com

First Black Female Cartoonist Celebrated In New Book


by R. Asmerom
The cartoon industry is a rare industry for anyone to be in, but especially a black woman in the 1930s. A new book by Nancy Goldstein called “Jackie Ormes: The First African American Woman Cartoonist” paints a profile of the first black woman cartoonist, who used her art to work in journalism and engage in politics from the 1930s to the 1950s.
Ormes started as a proofreader for the weekly African-American paper the Pittsburgh Courier. She launched a strip there called Torchy Browin In Dixie To Harlem about a Southern teen who was a success in the Cotton Club.
She later moved to Chicago to work for the popular Black newspaper Chicago Defender. There she started Patty-Jo ‘n’ Ginger, a cartoon that ran for 11 years. Her political voice was consistently heard during her tenure. According to the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette:

During the McCarthy era, she repeatedly took playful jabs in her cartoons at the House Un-American Activities Committee. Delivered with much humor and gusto, the barbs were often spoken by an adorable little girl named Patty-Jo, who always had a way of summing up all that her older, more fashionable sister, Ginger, remained silent about while expressing a look of utter shock that her little sister could say such a thing as:
“It would be interestin’ to discover WHICH committee decided it was un-American to be COLORED!”

Ornes didn’t escape the watchful eye of the vigilant FBI during that time, reportedly being closely watched by the agency for ten years because of some attendance at meetings for American communist groups. She admitted to attending meetings but denied being part of the Communist movement.
According to the book, Ornes used her cartoons to lobby for The March of Dimes and to protest segregation and American foreign policy.  Besides her sophisticated political voice, Ornes was known for her elegant depictions.

She often used her own quite charming and beautiful form as the model for her main characters such as Ginger and Torchy Brown, who are downright glamorous — in such a manner not before seen in graphic art depictions of African-American women.

Ormes died at the age of 74 in 1985. She was well ahead of her time. As the New York Times noted, the first daily strip to be produced by a Black woman emerged in 1989 by Barbara Brandon-Croft – obviously decades later after Ormes made her mark.

In Rediscovered Letter From 1865, Former Slave Tells Old Master To Shove It (UPDATE)

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In the summer of 1865, a former slave by the name of Jourdan Anderson sent a letter to his former master. And 147 years later, the document reads as richly as it must have back then.  The roughly 800-word letter, which has resurfaced via various blogs, websites, Twitter and Facebook, is a response to a missive from Colonel P.H. Anderson, Jourdan’s former master back in Big Spring, Tennessee. Apparently, Col. Anderson had written Jourdan asking him to come on back to the big house to work.  In a tone that could be described either as “impressively measured” or “the deadest of deadpan comedy,” the former slave, in the most genteel manner, basically tells the old slave master to kiss his rear end. He laments his being shot at by Col. Anderson when he fled slavery, the mistreatment of his children and that there “was never pay-day for the Negroes any more than for the horses and cows.”  Below is Jourdan’s letter in full, as it appears on lettersofnote.com. To take a look at what appears to be a scan of the original letter, which appeared in an August 22, 1865 edition of the New York Daily Tribune, click here. As Letters Of Note points out, the newspaper account makes clear that the letter was dictated.
UPDATE:
After reading the letter attributed to Jourdon Anderson, Michael Johnson, a professor of history at Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore, did a bit of digging into old slave and census records. He says he has discovered evidence that the people involved in this correspondence are real, and that the letter is probably authentic.  According to Johnson, the 1860 federal slave schedules list a P H Anderson in Wilson County, Tenn., with 32 slaves; several of them credibly the people mentioned in the letter, of the correct genders and ages, Johnson said, though the names of slaves were not listed in the schedules.  “That in itself is not conclusive proof that the letter is real, but the slave owner was real and he had plenty of slaves,” Johnson wrote in an email to The Huffington Post.  Johnson said better evidence that the letter is almost certainly real is that, according to the 1870 federal manuscript census, a Jourdan Anderson, his wife and four school-age children are listed as living in the 8th ward of Dayton, Ohio. Johnson said the records state that Anderson is a hostler, 45, and that he and his family are listed as “black.” Furthermore, according to those records, Anderson, his wife and two older children, ages 19 and 12, were born in Tennessee. Two younger children, ages 5 and 1, were born in Ohio, “which would in turn have him and his family showing up in Ohio at about the right time to have escaped during the Civil War,” Johnson said.  The professor said that Jourdan Anderson could not read or write, according to 1870 manuscript census. But the letter could have been written by his 19-year-old daughter, Jane, who was listed as literate in 1870.  “The letter probably reflected his sentiments,” Johnson said, who added that Anderson lived in a neighborhood surrounded by working-class white neighbors who were literate, according to the census. It is also possible one of them may have written the letter for him, Johnson said.  But the person who most likely wrote the dictated letter is another person listed in Anderson’s letter.  In the letter Anderson refers to a V. Winters. According to Johnson a person by the name of Valentine Winters, a “barrister” in Dayton’s 3rd ward who claimed property worth $697,000, also appears in the 1870 federal census.  “He may well have been the person who actually wrote the letter since he is the person Jourdan Anderson asks his former master to send his wages to,” Johnson said.
Dayton, Ohio,
August 7, 1865
To My Old Master, Colonel P.H. Anderson, Big Spring, Tennessee
Sir: I got your letter, and was glad to find that you had not forgotten Jourdon, and that you wanted me to come back and live with you again, promising to do better for me than anybody else can. I have often felt uneasy about you. I thought the Yankees would have hung you long before this, for harboring Rebs they found at your house. I suppose they never heard about your going to Colonel Martin’s to kill the Union soldier that was left by his company in their stable. Although you shot at me twice before I left you, I did not want to hear of your being hurt, and am glad you are still living. It would do me good to go back to the dear old home again, and see Miss Mary and Miss Martha and Allen, Esther, Green, and Lee. Give my love to them all, and tell them I hope we will meet in the better world, if not in this. I would have gone back to see you all when I was working in the Nashville Hospital, but one of the neighbors told me that Henry intended to shoot me if he ever got a chance.
I want to know particularly what the good chance is you propose to give me. I am doing tolerably well here. I get twenty-five dollars a month, with victuals and clothing; have a comfortable home for Mandy,—the folks call her Mrs. Anderson,—and the children—Milly, Jane, and Grundy—go to school and are learning well. The teacher says Grundy has a head for a preacher. They go to Sunday school, and Mandy and me attend church regularly. We are kindly treated. Sometimes we overhear others saying, “Them colored people were slaves” down in Tennessee. The children feel hurt when they hear such remarks; but I tell them it was no disgrace in Tennessee to belong to Colonel Anderson. Many darkens would have been proud, as I used to be, to call you master. Now if you will write and say what wages you will give me, I will be better able to decide whether it would be to my advantage to move back again.
As to my freedom, which you say I can have, there is nothing to be gained on that score, as I got my free papers in 1864 from the Provost-Marshal-General of the Department of Nashville. Mandy says she would be afraid to go back without some proof that you were disposed to treat us justly and kindly; and we have concluded to test your sincerity by asking you to send us our wages for the time we served you. This will make us forget and forgive old scores, and rely on your justice and friendship in the future. I served you faithfully for thirty-two years, and Mandy twenty years. At twenty-five dollars a month for me, and two dollars a week for Mandy, our earnings would amount to eleven thousand six hundred and eighty dollars. Add to this the interest for the time our wages have been kept back, and deduct what you paid for our clothing, and three doctor’s visits to me, and pulling a tooth for Mandy, and the balance will show what we are in justice entitled to. Please send the money by Adams’s Express, in care of V. Winters, Esq., Dayton, Ohio. If you fail to pay us for faithful labors in the past, we can have little faith in your promises in the future. We trust the good Maker has opened your eyes to the wrongs which you and your fathers have done to me and my fathers, in making us toil for you for generations without recompense. Here I draw my wages every Saturday night; but in Tennessee there was never any pay-day for the negroes any more than for the horses and cows. Surely there will be a day of reckoning for those who defraud the laborer of his hire.
In answering this letter, please state if there would be any safety for my Milly and Jane, who are now grown up, and both good-looking girls. You know how it was with poor Matilda and Catherine. I would rather stay here and starve—and die, if it come to that—than have my girls brought to shame by the violence and wickedness of their young masters. You will also please state if there has been any schools opened for the colored children in your neighborhood. The great desire of my life now is to give my children an education, and have them form virtuous habits.
Say howdy to George Carter, and thank him for taking the pistol from you when you were shooting at me.
From your old servant,
Jourdon Anderson.

Ida B. Wells To Be Honored With Sculpture In Chicago

 

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CHICAGO (AP) — For six decades, civil rights pioneer Ida B. Wells was woven into the fabric of Chicago’s South Side as the namesake of a public housing project.
A Rosa Parks-like figure during her era, the journalist and suffragist was so revered that 1930s leaders put her name on a project that promised good, affordable housing for working class families. Within a few decades, however, the homes deteriorated, growing more violent and becoming riddled with gangs and drugs — not as notorious as the city’s Cabrini-Green public housing high rises or Robert Taylor Homes, but certainly not a monument to Wells’ legacy.
Then, nearly a decade ago, the city tore the Wells housing project down, leaving the activist’s great-granddaughter Michelle Duster and her family worried Wells wouldn’t be remembered at all.
Now, to mark the 150th anniversary of Wells’ birth in 2012, an effort is under way to build a sculpture to honor her legacy at the site of the housing development and renew her relevance for future generations.
“When the housing project was coming down we were like ‘Her name is going to be gone,’” Duster said, sitting in her South Side home, a portrait of her great-grandmother hanging on the wall. “Her name and what she did can’t be lost with the housing project.”
The Ida B. Wells Commemorative Art Committee is seeking $300,000 in donations after commissioning noted Chicago artist Richard Hunt to create the sculpture, which is expected to combine images of Wells with inscriptions of her writings.
While Wells’ name endures on a grade school and a professorship in the city, the monument will aim to reflect the full legacy of a woman who was born into slavery in Mississippi and went on to become a well-respected crusader against injustice and outspoken anti-lynching activist.
Orphaned at age 16, Wells was left to support her five siblings. She became a teacher and moved to Memphis, where she sued a railroad because she wasn’t allowed to sit in the ladies coach. When she later became a journalist, Wells wrote about that incident and the lynchings of three of her male friends.
Her writings enraged others and led to Wells being forced to leave the South. She kept writing and speaking about lynching across the U.S. and England. She died in 1931 and is buried in Chicago.
Planning for the Ida B. Wells Homes started three years after her death, as a project of the Public Works Administration. The homes opened in 1941 and first lady Eleanor Roosevelt visited the complex, with its 1,662 units — more than 860 apartments and nearly 800 row houses and garden apartments.
By the 1990s, the housing complex had fallen to drugs and violence. In an infamous 1994 case, two boys, ages 10 and 11, dropped a 5-year-old boy to his death from a vacant 14-floor apartment. The boys were convicted on juvenile murder charges. The same year two neighborhood teenagers produced an award-winning radio documentary “Ghetto Life 101,” which aired on National Public Radio.
A year later, prosecutors charged seven people with running a cocaine ring out of the Ida B. Wells Homes that authorities say did such booming business drug buyers lined up 50 at a time.
By 2002, the last buildings were torn down in a nationally watched urban renewal plan initiated by then-Mayor Richard Daley that also targeted other housing projects — including Cabrini-Green, which saw the last of its high-rises crumble under wrecking balls earlier this year.
As Wells Homes residents focused on finding new places to live, some also requested something be done in tribute to the activist.
“I want people to remember Ida B. Wells the woman, not Ida B. Wells the housing community,” her great-granddaughter, Duster, said. “Something should be done to remember who she was. I think who she was as a woman got lost when it was attached to the housing projects.”
When the money is raised, that something will be a sculpture in the middle of a large grassy median on 37th Street and Langley Avenue in the historically African-American neighborhood of Bronzeville on the city’s South Side.
The site, across the street from a large park, isn’t far from the 19th-century stone house where Wells lived from 1919 to 1929. The Ida B. Wells-Barnett House is now a National Historic Landmark.
Hunt envisions a sculpture in his metallic, free-form style that will incorporate images and writings of Wells. He said he hopes to convey “what a courageous and intelligent and committed person that she was.”
Carol Adams, president of Chicago’s DuSable Museum of African-American History, said the sculpture will be a lasting monument to Wells and a place where people can learn about her influence. The neighborhood is already home to the Ida B. Wells Preparatory Elementary Academy, and Chicago’s DePaul University has a professorship named for Wells.
“Her name itself just reverberates through the community,” said Adams, who once worked in the Ida B. Wells Homes. “It was her voice, her stance that she took regarding lynching and how she used the media to wage that fight, what that fight meant to us. This was very significant for black people all over the country.”
Duster said the sculpture will “have a lot of meaning” for those who lived in the homes named after her.
“I think they will have a huge sense of pride,” she said. “Those who lived in Bronzeville when the homes were there, it’s a source of pride for our neighborhood. For others it’s a sense of pride in the city of Chicago.”
Mostly though, she said, remembering her great-grandmother will teach a new generation that one person can make a difference and defy the boundaries of society’s expectations based on race, class and gender.
“It’s important to speak up when you feel you’ve experienced something not fair,” Duster said. “Don’t wait for somebody else to say something. That’s one thing Ida did that I think is a legacy. She used her voice and talents to raise consciousness.”
via thegrio.com

(title)

WASHINGTON (AP) — Tourists and Washingtonians were about to get their first up-close look Monday at the memorial to the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr.
The site was set to open without fanfare around 11 a.m. to kick off a week of celebrations ahead of Sunday’s official dedication. About 20 people had lined up outside the site by late morning on what was a warm and sunny day.
Pamela M. Cross, 53, a cybersecurity professional from Washington, said she usually passes by the memorial on her morning walk around the National Mall and was excited to be able to see it up close.
Cross said her father, a postal worker, attended the march on Washington in 1963. She said King’s message continues to resonate.
“The way the country is right now, it’s good to remember his principles,” Cross said. “We are in need of jobs, we’re in need of equality, we’re in need of an economic vision that’s inclusive.”
The memorial sits on the National Mall near the Tidal Basin, between memorials honoring Presidents Abraham Lincoln and Thomas Jefferson. It includes a 30-foot-tall sculpture of King and a 450-foot-long granite wall inscribed with 14 quotations from the civil rights leader.
The sheer size of the sculpture of King sets it apart from nearby statues of Jefferson and Lincoln, which are both about 20 feet tall, though inside larger monuments.
A panel of scholars chose the engraved quotations from speeches by King in Atlanta, New York, Washington, Los Angeles and Montgomery, Ala., as well as from King’s books and his letter from a Birmingham, Ala., jail.
One of the stone engravings reads: “We shall overcome because the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.”
The sculptor, Lei Yixin, said he wanted the memorial to be a visual representation of the ideals King spoke of in his “I Have a Dream” speech.
“His dream is very universal. It’s a dream of equality,” Lei said through his son, who translated from Mandarin. “He went to jail. He had been beaten, and he sacrificed his life for his dream. And now his dream comes true.”
The 30-foot sculpture depicts King with a stern expression, wearing a jacket and tie, his arms folded and clutching papers in his left hand. Lei said through his son that “you can see the hope” in King’s face, but that his serious demeanor also indicates that “he’s thinking.”
The statue depicts King emerging from a stone. The concept for the memorial was taken from a line in the “I Have a Dream” speech, which is carved into the stone: “Out of the mountain of despair, a stone of hope.” Visitors to the memorial pass through a sculpture of the mountain of despair and come upon the stone of hope.
The National Mall site will be surrounded with cherry trees that will blossom in pink and white in the spring.
Sunday’s dedication ceremony will mark the 48th anniversary of the March on Washington and King’s famous “I Have a Dream” speech. President Barack Obama is scheduled to speak at the dedication.
via thegrio.com