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The Death of a Prophet, of Creative Militancy
By Rudolph Lewis
1968
King Assassination Report (CBS News)
I was nineteen
then, on this day April 4 in 1968. I was then registered
as a junior at Morgan State College in Baltimore,
Maryland. I had graduated in
1965 from Central High School in
Sussex County,
Virginia, one of the small (populated) rural counties in
southeastern Virginia, part of the Western Tidewater
region. It was what city folks called derisively, "the
country," as if nothing good could come for such a
place. My cousin Nature Boy would later tell me, after
he had moved back home, "Never be ashamed to tell people
where you from.
When I left the
country on the Trailways Bus
that summer for Baltimore, we at Jerusalem had neither running water
nor any kind of indoor plumbing. We were still using the
outhouse and toting water from the well and bathing in
foot tubs.
None had telephones in my community of Jerusalem.
We got our first black and white TV, which had only a
few local channels (from Richmond and Norfolk), in
August 1958. In short, we were
a fairly isolated rural, traditional community centered around
Jerusalem Baptist Church founded by former slaves in
1870.
So I was pleased to
be living in the big city in 1968—in the
Edmondson
Village community of Colborne Avenue off of Wildwood
Parkway. It was a long bus ride to Morgan, especially
for Freshmen English which was at 8 am. I caught No. 23
downtown and then the No. 3 to Loch Raven and Coldspring
and walked east to Hillen.
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My mother had not long
moved into this community from
Cherry Hill, which was a
"project" built
for black veterans south of the harbor, which then had not
developed from old warehouses into what is now called
the Inner Harbor of expensive hotels and restaurants. My
mother thought she was moving on up and becoming a
homeowner.
She later discovered it
was a scam. In small print it seems there
was a provision that if a payment was missed
the home-owning contract would revert to a
rental. She was not alone in this matter.
Many other black residents of Edmondson
Village fell victim to the real estate scam as my mother,
whose hopes and dreams were thus undermined.
Parren Mitchel and
Walter P. Carter would lead protest
demonstrations down St. Paul Street to
Morris Goldseker's office. Though I had
moved out of my mother's house by 1968, I
would join at least one of the
Mitchell-Carter led demonstrations. Carter
would die suddenly in 1971 (July 31),
"giving a report to the Black United Front,
at the Union Baptist Church in Baltimore.
The previous day, Carter had won a court
battle against, then slumlord, Morris
Goldeseker." |
 |
As a member of
U.S. House of Representatives from
Maryland's
7th district, Congressman
Parren Mitchell—the
brother of the late
Clarence M. Mitchell, Jr., who was
head of the NAACP's Washington office
and was one of Lyndon Johnson's chief
advisors in the civil rights movement—added
(August 5, 1971) this remark to the
Congressional Record:
Mr. Speaker, the State of
Maryland last week, lost one of the
most able civil rights leaders in
the person of Walter P. Carter.
Expressions of sympathy have come
from across the nation and around
the world. I think this should be a
very special lesson to this House to
learn that there are whites who
recognize the contributions of a man
who articulates black identity and
black awareness.
Wikipedia
My mother worked off of Gay Street near the corner of
Baltimore Street, not far from The Block of strip
clubs, as a piece worker in a garment factory. She did
this kind of work for thirty years in raising her four
daughters and my brother Ronald. She would indeed years
later acquire and pay for a house in the
Yale Heights community on Cedargarten Road. My
father, who never married, worked at
Bethlehem Steel mill as a common laborer. (Because of
health problems he was forced to take an early
retirement and returned to live with his mother in
Jarratt, Virginia, the place of his birth.) My aims were
much higher than hers or those of my father. I was the
first in my immediate family to graduate from high
school and go to college.
In the summer of
1967, after I had finished my sophomore year, I came under the influence of a librarian at
Edmondson Village library. She placed me on a regiment
of black titles. At Central High I had not heard of
Langston Hughes or James Baldwin's
Go Tell It on the
Mountain, or Richard Wright's
Native Son, or
Ralph Ellison's
Invisible Man.
In high school I do not even remember reading
Shakespeare and his "Othello" or his "Hamlet"
or his "Lear." I was not very much
interested then in literature. My interest fell on
girls and basketball.
I graduated when I
was 16 from high school, having skipped a grade during
my elementary years. That teacher still lives. I saw her
again at my grandmother's funeral last December (2009).
She was Miss Trisvan when I started at
Creath, No.5 in
1954. In 1959 she went to Central, which had then just
opened its doors, and then for me she became Mrs.
Richards. Oh, she was a beautiful young teacher, with a
beautiful hand, which I tried to approximate, but never
succeeded. I would later have her for classes at
Central High. It was a brand new school. It opened as a
response to the Brown decision.
Of course, I did
not know its history and its cause, then. My mother and
my aunts had gone to
Waverly Training School for the
Colored, which was forty miles from my Village of
Jerusalem, which was in the southwestern end of Sussex
County. They—my grandparents, my mother and her
sisters—also had attended
Creath, which taught grades
1-7. Miss Trisvan (Mrs. Richards) taught all seven
grades. There were only about fifty of us all together.
The students cleaned the
Creath floors with an oiled mop
to keep down the dust. Most of the roads then were dirt.
In the winter, we older students were responsible for
starting fires in the coal heater which sat in a sand
box. So I was twelve when I entered the eighth grade.
That summer I also took my first trip to Baltimore.
Mrs. Richards
taught me French and Government at Central High, which
educated
grades 8-12. Many of the teachers at Central had taught
at
Waverly Training School. Some of them had taught my
mother and my aunts, who dropped out of
Waverly by the
eleventh grade. I became the exception and the hope of
my grandparents, none of whom had got past the third
grade. Remember we were a rural agricultural community
and they and their five girls had grown up during the
so-called
Great Depression.)
Back then at
Morgan
State College,
ROTC was required of all male freshman
and sophomore students. By the summer of 67 I had
completed my requirements for
ROTC and the wearing of
the green uniforms and lining of for parade drills. During the
summer I had worked with my mother’s boyfriend Grover
Reid as a laborer with construction companies. With
those monies I was able to pay my tuition while I lived
with my mother and her boyfriend and my three sisters.
(Back then a woman needed a man to do almost anything:
the old patriarchy was enforced by law and tradition.)
Her youngest sister (and husband and two kids) lived in
the basement. Back then
Waverly Training School only cost
$99.50 a semester for tuition and so with my laborer’s
summer salary, which was not much more than minimum pay,
probably about a buck sixty an hour I could manage my
tuition and the cost of books.
With the aid of my
librarian friend I developed some awareness of the world
and the
Vietnam War.
I had planned to escape the work of a laborer by
receiving a stipend from the Junior ROTC program. I had
passed the physical at Fort Holabird and
was ready to be a ROTC cadet officer and eventually
become a second lieutenant in the Army. My librarian
friend dissuaded me from that career goal, emphasizing
the short longevity of second lieutenants on the battlefield.
She was anti-war and had a firm belief and trust in the
civil rights goal of racial integration. That year 1967
both
Martin Luther King and
Muhammad Ali spoke out against the War. Ali refused to
step forward and was arrested and threatened with five
years imprisonment and a $10,000 fine.
Dr. King went against the advice of all his handlers
and the public denunciation by his civil
rights peers.
To my surprise my
library mentor
had white friends and associates. That was never the
case with my growing up in segregated Creath. The white
kids rode by in their yellow bus and often threw
missiles out the window while we walked our two
miles in the morning and two miles in the afternoon. It
was a dirt road lined with woods and farm land that
traversed Sansi Swamp.
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There were also no white
students at Central High, which was twenty
miles from our village. The whites had their
own school four miles away up in Jarratt. White
friends and associates were a very novel notion to me.
I did have a
few white professors at Morgan State but I never
developed any relationship with them. For instance, I
had Thomas Cripps, who was then working on his book
Slow Fade to Black: Negro in American Film, 1900-42
(1977),
for Negro history. Cripps led a field trip to the
University of Maryland, where I saw for the
first and last time the film
The Birth of a Nation. I was shocked
and disturbed and as a result developed a
lifelong hatred of Cripps. His emphasis was
on the technical virtuosity of
D. W. Griffiths, rather than the racism
that was so evident. Cripps had replaced
Benjamin Quarles,
author of
Frederick Douglass
(1948), who was on sabbatical. He had been at
Morgan since 1953, after leaving
Dillard University where he had been
since 1939. So I missed my
chance to study under the great progressive Negro
historian. |
My Baltimore family
was not well-connected. So my librarian friend, a
graduate of Hampton University, introduced me to a whole
new world. In that I did not stay on campus I had not
gotten a real sense of campus life or black life in
Baltimore. I finished my classes and I returned to
Edmondson Village. Fall 1967 that all changed. My eyes had been
opened; my consciousness had expanded with the summer
readings. I had made love to a grown woman (a married
one) with children
instead of sneaking around with high school girls from
the prying eyes of their mothers. I was growing into a
man, though I had just turned nineteen.
With new eyes, I
took note of the antiwar activity on campus and the
group Dissent, whose faculty advisor was
Dr. Cliff
Durand, now Professor Emeritus of Philosophy at
Morgan State University. This was the era of burning
draft cards and protest at draft boards in both North,
South, East, and West.
|
This was almost three years before
Kent
State in which the
Ohio
National Guard fired into a crowd of Kent State
University demonstrators, killing four and wounding nine
Kent State students.
That Fall
semester I did not enroll in the Junior ROTC program.
Stokely Carmichael, sensational and controversial, was
invited to speak to Morgan students at Murphy
Auditorium. I had not heard of him and I had never heard
blacks speak in public the criticisms that
Stokely
spoke. There was great laughter at the contradictions he
pointed out in the white man’s lies we had adopted as
truth and the great hurt that came from living in
the white man’s world. This was a time of consciousness
raising.
Stokely was retiring as the chairman of the Student
Non-Violent Coordinating Committee (SNCC), which was in
the midst of a great organizational change after the cry
of Black Power had been raised. Its white staff had
departed .And Stokely warned that the new chairman,
H.
Rap Brown, was a “bad” man and was going to bring down
the “word” more forceful than he had.
photo of Stokely and Rap
|
 |
Stokely’s
speech brought about a sea change in my life. Naturally,
there were those unspoken black-nationalist sentiments
in my heart (passed down from the generations) that had
never been given by me verbal expression. I never really
had the words. I had known there was a cohesiveness in
black life from what had been spoken in private among
ourselves. But to give it a public voice that was all
new and marvelous. So the laughter had a fringe of fear
and a wonder at once.
That same Fall semester of 67
before the November elections Walter Lively came to
campus and spoke at the Student Union. That was also the
season that Baltimore County’s
Spiro Agnew
also came to
campus seeking the Negro vote. But it was
Walter that
made a more impressionable change on my life. Walter
was running for one of the three council seats in the
Second District of East Baltimore. He was the head of
Union for Jobs and Income Now
(U-JOIN), a local civil rights organization involved in
a tenants’ rights movement. The Second District,
anchored by Johns Hopkins Hospital, had become black.
The old white immigrant community was still controlled
by a white Democratic machine that was still backward
and conservative and anti-progressive from a Negro
perspective.
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The only
way that Walter could get in to the race was to run as a
Republican. The local Republican Party found it a
marvelous idea but they really did not put that much
money in Walter’s campaign. So Walter depended on white
liberal and student support. He came to Morgan for that
purpose and I joined his ranks. We became friends and
associates. He was like the older brother I never had.
We would later work together in developing a black
movement press, Liberation House Press, near North Avenue and Greenmount Avenue. But the election campaign had given
me an inroads into East Baltimore and I would later get
a job as a tutor for black children at the local
Catholic church.
That Fall
semester I would also meet
Robert B. Moore
(Bob Moore), a native of Baltimore. He had been living
in Atlanta and had been involved in a protest at a draft
board and had been arrested and he was out on bond while
the case was being appealed.
painting by Kaki of Walter Lively |
 |
In the 1970s, after an appeal to the U.S.
Supreme Court failed, Bob would spend two years at Allenwood, a
low-security prison in Pennsylvania. His plan the fall
of1967 was to
return to Baltimore and open a SNCC office. That office
was opened by January 1968 and I unofficially dropped
out of Morgan State to join him in maintaining the
office and its campaign for spreading the word of
Black
Power. We were operating on donations. Moore had been a
member of the local NAACP and had also worked with
Walter Lively in U-JOIN. He
also knew members of
Baltimore’s black elite including the Murphys (William
Sr. and
Madeline) of Cherry
Hill, related to the Murphys of the
Baltimore Afro-
American newspaper.
With
these connections I got to know a greater number of
Morgan students, including Sheila Lewis (who became
Sheila Moore), Lydia Stanton (who became Lydia Lively),
Fred
Mason,
Clarence
"Tiger" Davis, Keith Shortridge, John
Clark, and others. We developed the Society of
Afro-American Students and began organizing meetings for
Black Power and a campaign against the Vietnam War on
campus, including a dismantling of ROTC as a curriculum
requirement. Through the SNCC office we even developed a
newsletter and leaflet distribution. Another issue for
us was the importance of developing a black curriculum that would
act as the collegiate foundation for consciousness
development and a struggle against white values and
white politics. Tiger Davis was our leading
spokesperson. His talents as an orator and rabble rouser
were excellent. He later became a state representative
in Annapolis.
During
this period the Society of United Liberators (Soul
School, a black cultural nationalist organization)
became an important force in West Baltimore near
Freemont and Edmondson Avenue. They (Babatunji, Olugbala,
Ali, Shaguna, and Allen) would later bring Amiri Baraka to Baltimore for one of
LeRoi Jones' plays at a
local church. Stokely also came to that program.. The
Nation of Islam had received new life with Malcolm X,
but there were suspicions of them after the
assassination of Malcolm. Most of my political peers
were suspicious of religion and especially suspicious of
Muslims and their leader Elijah Muhammad but we were all
readers of
Muhammad Speaks. SCLC was also
establishing an office in the Pennsylvania Avenue area
in West Baltimore.
CORE
(Congress of Racial Equality) had
an office in the Gay Street area, the business district
of black East Baltimore, west of Johns Hopkins Hospital,
at Monument and Broadway. Danny Gant was its leading
spokesman. I accompanied Danny once to the office of then
Mayor
Thomas D'Alesandro III, the
brother of House spokeswoman Nancy Pelosi. I was amazed
by Danny’s antics: he placed his feet on the desk of the
Mayor. His wife Andrea was also an important leader in
East Baltimore. CORE, which remained integrated
unlike SNNC, adopted tenets of Black Power.
We were
aware of SCLC’s plans for the
Poor People’s
Campaign, which
was a counterweight to the development of
SNCC’s Black
Power Movement and other black nationalist resurgences.
King was not only moving North and West, he was moving
nationally and against the Vietnam War, and
re-emphasizing the economic aspects of the
1963 March on
Washington. Though a member of
SNCC, which was somewhat
antagonistic to King’s philosophy of non-violence, I was
impressed by King
and his speeches me. He moved me by his rhetoric, by his
passion. Maybe my
church rearing and deep-seated religions sentiments
kicked in with his sermonizing. I was often mocked by my
black nationalist peers for my admiration of King.
 |
From the
black elite there was a different kind of criticism,
especially after King came out against the War: they
passed around mocking suggestive rumors of the secret
activities of Baptist preachers and the women in their
congregations.
We had
eyes and ears on the developments in
Memphis and the
strike of the garbage workers, and their
I Am a Man
signs. There was some mockery of King running away when
he tried to lead the garbage workers in a peaceful,
non-violent march when violence broke out with the
breaking of windows of local businesses. The Black Power
rhetoric was having its impact in Memphis. While
northern and mid-Western and Western black communities
(like Watts and Detroit) had had its riots, cities like
Washington, DC and Baltimore and other southern cities
had remained quiet and sullen in face of increasing
white backlash against the passage of the
1964 Civil
Rights Bill and
1965 Voting Rights Bill. |
In a
sense
President Lyndon B. Johnson’s legislative
victories (the
1964 Civil Rights and
1965 Voting Rights acts) had undermined the
relevance of the Civil Rights Movement and King’s
national leadership. So the planned
Poor People’s
Campaign was intended to heighten the
contradictions of racial oppression in America. King saw
the
Memphis strike as key to what he intended to do in
Washington, DC. He wanted to show that all poor peoples
whatever their color (red, brown, white, and black) had
more in common than the wealthy elite who benefited from
the poverty and powerlessness of a significant portion
of Americans.
We were
indeed shocked by the
news of King’s assassination. We
expected there would be a violent response against the
so-called black militants. But the murder of the prophet
of love took us by surprise. We began to agitate around
his death. We passed out leaflets to close down
community businesses in honor and respect for King’s
accomplishments and undeserved death. Leaflets were
passed out in the main shopping centers of Black
Baltimore:
Greenmount Avenue,
Gay Street,
Pennsylvania
Avenue, Mondawmin. The
Baltimore riot (which many of us
called a rebellion) began in the Gay Street area.
Baltimore’s white business elite within black
communities found themselves in a dilemma, and they
feared black response. Easter shopping was ongoing and
the businesses began to respond to the leafleting. For
many of the black shoppers the closing of the stores was
another racial affront.
The
riots
spread with angry young blacks roaming the streets
breaking store windows. Then the fire-bombing began in
the Gay Street area, then Pennsylvania Avenue, and then
Greenmount Avenue. Agnew
declared, “a state of public crisis, emergency, and
civil disturbance exists within the City of
Baltimore” and
called in
the National Guard: 5,783
military personnel were activated in Baltimore
A curfew was instituted.
Arrests
were widespread, so much so that the Civic Center was
used to house those arrested. Thousands were arrested
including those just sitting on their stoops. Some of us
were involved in helping General George Gelston, then
the head of the Maryland National Guard, to quiet the
city. But the
Baltimore riot soon ran its course and would have
done so without the repression of the National Guard, the state troopers,
and Baltimore finest.
But there was a real fear that a Black Revolution was
under way. It was much like the exaggerated response to
Nathaniel Turner and the 1831 Southampton revolt.
After the
Baltimore revolt, Governor Agnew called in the Black
Elite and scolded them as if they were his children.
Some walked out of the meeting. Agnew gained a national
reputation as knowing how to deal with the Blacks. Agnew
was then chosen as Nixon’s vice-president running mate.
Among those singled out was
Robert Moore, chairman of
Baltimore SNCC. To defend and support the so-called
black militants, a Black United Front was created that
included moderate and conservative black leaders.
In some
sense this new organization sublimated and squashed the
new black militancy. Many of the so-called militants entered and made use
of the anti-poverty programs (or Model Cities) that were
being extended across the city—e.g., the Greenmount
area with the
Model Urban Neighborhood
Demonstration
(MUND), funded by Westinghouse operating in
the areas from North Avenue (on the south) to 25th
Street (on the north) and from 's now I 83 (on the west)
to Harford Road (on the east).
MUND
would by late 1968 develop into the
Model Urban Neighborhood Development (MUND) Corporation,
federally funded, with its offices on Maryland Avenue
near 22nd Street. I worked for a while with the
federally-funded MUND. I worked first with the demonstration
program
as a neighborhood representative and then later
with the MUND Corporation as
an employee. I resigned after about six months. Later, much of the black militancy and black
groups were used to elect black representatives;
e.g., judges, councilmen, state legislators, state’s
attorney and finally the election of
Parren Mitchell, as
the first U.S. Representative from Maryland (1971-1986).
There were moves also made and planned to elect a black
mayor of Baltimore. Many thought Walter Lively would be
that man.
Then
there was
Ronald Reagan and the resurgence of the
Republican Party in the 1980s, and the War on Drugs and
derisive remarks about Welfare Queens. Black politics
was on the defensive and began to move farther and
farther to the Right toward the status quo with the
election of blacks to local and national offices.
Kenneth Allen Gibson became mayor of
Newark in 1970 and served until 1986. Much of this
Newark electoral movement occurred under the leadership of
Amiri Baraka.
Kurt
Schmoke in 1987 became Baltimore’s first elected mayor
after a term as State’s Attorney.
Probably
the most important events of post-1968 Baltimore riots
were the organizing of black workers, which included
garbage workers and other government workers. Black
drivers of public buses became commonplace. In 1969,
over 5000 hospital and nursing home workers were
organized in a period of six months, including a
thousand or more at Johns Hopkins Hospital in East
Baltimore. Coretta Scott King to Baltimore and
encouraged Hopkins black workers to join 1199. The new black militancy found more of a home
among blacks on the lower economic tiers of Black
Baltimore. The average wage of health care workers then
was about $1.65 an hour, without job security, health
care benefits, or pensions. 1199 of New York sent out
organizers to cities like Baltimore (Fred Punch) and
Philadelphia (Henry Nicholas) and developed very high
spirited and militant locals that challenged the white
elites of those cities. For awhile (a few months
in 1990) I worked for
Nicholas.
In some
sense all of that began to unravel with the union
busting spirit of
Ronald Reagan. Union militancy was
knocked back on its heels and never recovered. Union
democracy for which 1199 was known became more
institutional, centralized, and conservative. But that
became true for all black leaders holding some
institutional office.
|
With
government and middle class emphasis on crime and drug
trafficking and fiscal accountability, the criminal
justice system became more and more punitive and the
black communities became more and more criminalized and
impoverished. Michele
Alexander’s recent book
The New Jim
Crow and Ronald Walters’s 2003 book
White
Nationalism and Black Interests sketch out
fairly well what happened during the 1980s and the
1990s, especially during the Clinton administration.
Martin Luther King’s Dream and his Poor People’s
Campaign
were thrown to the ground like a pregnant, tasered,
handcuffed woman carried off to prison. In Baltimore,
several years ago a
7-year-old black child, sitting on
an outlawed dirt back was arrested, handcuffed, carried
off to jail. The black mayor Sheila Dixon, without any
inkling of indignation, could only say she would look
into the matter. No city apology was made to the parents
of the child and the matter was dropped. Black creative militancy
was dead and unfuneralized in Baltimore. Long Live
Martin Luther King! Long Live Creative
Militancy! |
 |
4 April 2010
*
* * * *
42nd anniversary of the assassination of Civil Rights
Leader, the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr
*
* * * *
Martin Luther King, Jr.:
Last speech /
Prophetic Last speech /
Why I Am Opposed to the War in Vietnam /
On War /
I'm Sorry Sir You Don't Know Me
A Time to Break Silence /
Proud to be maladjusted! /
Afghanistan (HerStory)
|
Behind the Dream
The Making of the Speech that Transformed a
Nation
By
Clarence B. Jones and Stuart Connelly
“I
Have a Dream.”
When those words were spoken on the steps of
the Lincoln Memorial on August 28, 1963, the
crowd stood, electrified, as Martin Luther
King, Jr. brought the plight of African
Americans to the public consciousness and
firmly established himself as one of the
greatest orators of all time.
Behind the Dream is a thrilling,
behind-the-scenes account of the weeks
leading up to the great event, as told by
Clarence Jones, co-writer of the speech and
close confidant to King. Jones was there, on
the road, collaborating with the great minds
of the time, and hammering out the ideas and
the speech that would shape the civil rights
movement and inspire Americans for years to
come.— Palgrave Macmillan |
 |
Behind the Dream: The Making of the Speech that
Transformed a Nation is a smart, insightful,
enjoyable read about a momentous event in history. It is
the "story behind the story" straight from Clarence
Jones, the attorney, speechwriter, and close friend of
Martin Luther King, Jr. As I read the words on the page,
I felt as if I were having an intimate conversation with
the author. The book helped me to understand the
humanity of Dr. King and the other organizers of the
March on Washington. They were people who saw injustice
and called for change. Despite FBI wiretaps and other
adversity, together they undertook an enormous
logistical effort in hopes that the March would be a
success. Jones himself handwrote the first draft of the
renowned “I Have a Dream”
speech on a yellow legal pad, but it wasn't until King
was inspired to veer from the text that he struck a
chord with the audience, delivering the right words at
the right time. The “I Have a Dream” speech helped to
elevate King from a man to a hero; this book is a
reminder to all to make sure that his Dream lives on.—amazon
customer
* *
* * *
 |
Malcolm X
A Life of Reinvention
By
Manning Marable
Years
in the making-the definitive biography of
the legendary black activist.
Of the great figure in twentieth-century
American history perhaps none is more
complex and controversial than Malcolm X.
Constantly rewriting his own story, he
became a criminal, a minister, a leader, and
an icon, all before being felled by
assassins' bullets at age thirty-nine.
Through his tireless work and countless
speeches he empowered hundreds of thousands
of black Americans to create better lives
and stronger communities while establishing
the template for the self-actualized,
independent African American man. In death
he became a broad symbol of both resistance
and reconciliation for millions around the
world. |
* *
* * *
The White Masters of the
World
From
The World and Africa, 1965
By W. E. B. Du Bois
W. E. B. Du Bois’
Arraignment and Indictment of White Civilization
(Fletcher)
* *
* * *
Ancient African Nations
* * * * *
If you like this page consider making a donation
* * * * *
Negro Digest /
Black World
Browse all issues
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Enjoy!
* * * * *
The Death of Emmett Till by Bob Dylan
/
The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll
/
Only a Pawn in Their Game
Rev. Jesse Lee Peterson Thanks America for
Slavery /
George Jackson /
Hurricane Carter
* *
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The Journal of Negro History issues at Project Gutenberg
The
Haitian Declaration of Independence 1804
/
January 1, 1804 -- The Founding of
Haiti
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