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Books by Sam
Greenlee
The Spook Who Sat By the Door /
Ammunition! Poetry and Other Raps
Baghdad Blues: A Novel /
Blues for an African Princess
"Be-bop man/be-bop woman" 1968-1993: Poetry and
other raps
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When Desoree Danced
By Sam
Greenlee
When Desoree
danced, the Gods came down from the heavens and
danced with her steel-shod shoes striking fire and
lightning; her heels thumping thunder in
counterpoint to the staccato beat of her toes and
the sparks became lightning in reverse, returning to
the heavens and back again and Ilegba slid down its
burning shaft and called the Gods down out of the
heavens and they danced night into day!
When Desoree
danced, the great Jo Jones became the God of Thunder
and Lightning; his tidy body moving and swaying to
the rhythm; his hands speed-blur fast, striking
lightning from the bass line cymbals and thunder
from the bass drum, his smile lighting the furthest
reaches of Harlem and his poly-rhythmic beat
levitated Desoree and she danced just above the
stage, her heels resounding the bass line as John
Bubbles did and it was said that she danced as fast
as Honi Coles, as cool as Bojangles, as acrobatic as
the Nicholas Brothers and as fiery as herself!
When Desoree
danced and the great Jo Jones played, they became
mirror twins, thinking together and apart, lifting
one another in a constant upward spiral. Jo Jones
would run a long press roll beneath riding on a
half-time beat, ending with a bomb and Desoree would
reverse it: bombing first with her heels, then a
press roll with her feet. Desoree danced as a
drummer plays and the audience was laughing and
shouting, half of them on the time, on the one, the
other half on half-time: blitty-blap, blitty-blap,
blitty-blap, blitty, blitty, blitty, blitty, blitty
blap, blap, blap! Her smile was as wide as the
Mississippi river at Vicksburg where she was born
before her family moved to Chicago and she was there
on the Apollo stage to turn Harlem on!
When Desoree
danced that night at the Apollo Theater with the
great Count Basie band behind her and taking flight,
Bill Bojangles Robinson in the wings, the audience
clapping, shouting, swaying and the great Lord
Shango and the other African Gods dancing and
inspired by her fire; Desoree danced, wearing her
God-given talent like a crown and much too soon the
dance ended and she floated to the wings of the
stage. Bojangles asked that she stay for his
closing act, being the headliner he had become years
before, then, with a broad smile on his ebony face,
his Derby hat tilted just so, his tux fitting like a
second skin, he strutted on stage to a standing
ovation, poised briefly like an African emperor,
hands poised on hipless hips, then broke into a fast
up tempo rhythm and laid his genius on his adoring
fans as the God-given gift it was going through his
act with the ease of years of training and
experience: up time, slow time, half time and when
finished, left the audience limp and shouting and
for his return as he danced to the wings and
returned with Desoree on his arm.
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When Desoree danced
with Bill Robinson that night on the
Apollo stage, it was chocolate and
vanilla and a reminder that Black comes
in all shades of skin. They began with
a little soft shoe shuffle to get the
juices flowing, a little shuffle, slide
and guide. Then, Prez picked it up,
blowing so lazy it sounded like he was
asleep and dreaming his solo, making
genius seem like a part time gig.
Bojangles popped out a very up tempo
beat with the fingers of his hand, Basie
nodded, the rhythm section picked up,
the band followed and they broke into a
dance so fast that the sounds of their
taps ran into one another as one long,
sustained note.
The audience was silent
now, in witness of a legend in the
making. Who was this woman dancing with
their hero and more than holding her own
and when Mr. Robinson looked out the
corner of his eye, he discovered that he
was in a cuttin’ contest and when the
crowd got hip to what was going on, they
roared their approval and eager
anticipation because it had been a long
time since Mr. Robinson had been
challenged to defend his crown and now
he was on stage with a quicksilver woman
from the South Side of Chicago where it
is rumored reside the baddest Black
folks on the planet. |
 |
But, with a
smile on his obsidian face, Bojangles accepted the
challenge, waved the band silent, except for the
rhythm section, slid to the side of the stage and
gave her the first thirty-two bars and Desoree took
them skyward!
When Desoree
danced her thirty-two bars of Basie blues, Jo Jones
smiling down from his high throne at the back of the
band, her smile never left her face and she became
transfixed, speaking other tongues in her head,
entranced and feeling the music through her pores
before she heard it; the rhythm and the dancer
becoming one. She bucked and winged, spun and
twirled, strutted and stanced and danced, danced,
danced! When she finished her turn, Mr. Robinson
gave Desoree her due with a gracious and elegant tip
of his hat, acknowledging the arrival of new found
royalty and like the king he was, prepared to defend
his crown.
Bill Robinson
came on as cool as Desoree had been hot, the fire of
her and the ice of him and some say that he invented
cool. He did a simple time step, broke into a buck
and wing, slid light and easy into a series of
turns, came out of them with a little bird-like
leap, broke into a series of rapid fire steps,
hesitated a beat and then did his legendary walk up
and the bright, white, shiny staircase. Nobody
could walk the stairs like Bill He came on down
stage and eased into a full split, eased back up
with that big smile still on his face like a split
was the easiest thing in the world to do, strutted
the stage doing the Sand and a little Suzy Que,
ending his thirty-two bars and the audience
responded, but Desoree was ready to cut through the
bull shit, knowing he hadn’t nothing yet and neither
had she!
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Desoree was more than
ready after too many years of study and
training, dues paying, torn tendons,
sprains, aching muscles and dancing
through the pain with a smile on her
face, making the difficult look easy and
the impossible look effortless.
She had
left two young boys in Chicago with her
parents for a chance to conquer Harlem
and she had been an original Regalette,
the finest tap line of the time and now
had the reputation after becoming a
headliner at the Cotton Club, second
billing to the great Bill Robinson and
she wasn’ about to let him patronize her
with that jive routine; so she came on
smoking, not joking for her sixteen
bars, not just layin’ there playing it
safe and broke into a series of
side-hand flips across the stage and
back to mid-stage, higher with each
leap, coming down from maximum height
into a split, bounced up into a series
of ballet pirouettes, flipped and slid
like she was walking on ice and she and
the audience laughed.
She then started
slow, her taps sounding as low as the
echo of a dying love, hitting hard to
punctuate each turn, came out into a
Buck and Wing and they were into eight
bars now and Mr. Robinson’s smile had
tightened because her ovation had been
greater than his and he did not play
that shit in his Harlem. |
Bill Robinson
reached way back to the days of his youth when he’d
danced, hungry for coins on the streets of Harlem;
back to the Honky Tonks and minstrel tent shows; the
days of his tireless youth; pulled the old steps out
of the suitcase of his mind, put them together and
the master reemerged who had been resting on his
laurels far too long and pulled out of his shell by
a loving, youthful competitor and he loved for it as
he prepared to cut her down.
Desoree and
Bojangles danced that day, creating a legend that
resounded throughout Harlem and along the grapevine
to Chicago and beyond. They danced that night,
trading fours, taking four bars in turn, the people
on their feet, their voices one continuous roar and
Mr. Robinson’s smile was real because he was making
magic once again with a brand new magician and
Desoree smiled as well, ending her last four bars in
a ballet curtsy and as a brand new princess, gave up
the stage to the king.
Bill Robinson
waved the band to silence and began with a time step
in place, his body, except for his feet, as still as
deep well water. He tipped his Derby to jauntier
angle, placed his hands lightly against his hips,
pink palms outward, the crowd falling silent as Jo
Jones read his mind and began keeping time with rim
shots ticking off like a metronome in perfect time.
Mr. Robinson began using more of the stage, making a
slow turn and motioned to the greatest rhythm
section of them all to give him the limb from which
to fly and fly he did! Count Basie fed him fat left
hand blues chords, Freddie Green rocked as steady as
the rising sun on acoustic guitar and Walter Page
walked strong enough to cross the Sahara and Jo
Jones called down the Gods to dance with him on the
stage of the Apollo Theater.
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Bill Robinson drummed with his feet as
Jo Jones drummed with his hands and the
people of Harlem drummed as well,
clapping in call and response, the band,
after a nod from the Count, riffing the
blues hard and Buck Clayton blew, Sweets
Edison, too and Herschel Evans, Dickie
Wells and Lester Young and the brass
section shouted, the reed section sung
sweet, the band on its feet now and Bill
Robinson danced as never before!
Mr.
Robinson danced back to the wings
grinning and clapping out the time and
came back on stage with Desoree, with
little Jimmy Rushing and Helen Humes
laughing and clapping out the time as
the dancers broke into a double-time
machine gun chatter and the Apollo
became a church, temple, storefront or
ten; wherever Black folks gathered to
worship and make a joyous noise for the
Lord!
Mr. Robinson became Lord Shango,
Jo Jones Ilegba, Desoree both Oshun and
Yemayah, Jo Jones’ drums increased a
hundred fold, echoing the drums of the
motherland, the crowd shouting, the
musicians roaring and Desoree and
Bojangles until their taps echoed
against the end of time!
Yes! When Desoree
and Bojangles danced that night on the
Apollo stage, the Gods came down from
the heavens and danced with them! |
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Bill Robinson, also
called Bojangles (1878-1949), American tap dancer
and entertainer, known for his skill and
originality, and one of the first black entertainers
to achieve popularity among members of different
races in the United States.
Born Luther Robinson in
Richmond, Virginia, he was raised by his grandmother
after being orphaned as a baby. As a child Robinson
danced for pennies from passersby on the streets. He
left school before the age of eight and ran away to
Washington, D.C., where he worked as a stable boy at
a race track. In Washington he observed traveling
minstrel
shows
and copied aspects of their movement, eventually
creating a unique dance style characterized by
highly rhythmic, syncopated, and complex footwork
that appeared effortless, carefree, and buoyant. He
developed
tap dance and soft-shoe routines (tap dances
done in soft-soled shoes) in which he proved himself
a master of improvisation, able to produce a
seemingly unlimited range of percussive sounds.
Encarta MSN
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Sam
Greenlee—novelist, poet, screenwriter,
journalist, teacher and talk show host—was born 13 July 1930 in Chicago.
He attended Chicago public schools. At age fifteen, Greenlee
participated in his first sit-in and walked his first picked line. His
social activism continues. In 1952, Greenlee received his B.S. in
political science from the University of Wisconsin and the following
year attended law school. He transferred to the University of Chicago to
study international relations from 1954 to 1957. In 1957, he began a
seven-year career with the U.S. Information Agency as a foreign services
officer, serving in Iraq, Bangladesh, Indonesia and Greece, and in 1958
he was awarded the Meritorious Service Award for bravery during the
Baghdad revolution.
Greenlee's novel
The Spook Who Sat By the Door, was published in 1968.
Prize-winning its fictionalization of an urban-based war for African
American liberation became an underground favorite. Greenlee co-wrote a
screenplay adaptation of the novel, and in 1973
The Spook Who Sat by
the Door was released on film. The film was an overnight success
when it was released but was unexpectedly taken out of distribution.
Greenlee has written numerous novels, stage plays, screenplays and
poems. He moved back to Chicago after several years of voluntary exile
in Spain and West Africa and is hosted a radio talk show program. He is
presently working on his autobiography.
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Sam Greenlee (born July 13, 1930) is an
African American writer, best known for his novel The
Spook Who Sat by the Door, first published in London by Allison
& Busby in March 1969, which was made into the 1973 movie of the same name
and won
The Sunday Times Book of the Year award. Other works include
Baghdad Blues, a 1976 novel based on his experiences traveling in
Iraq in the 1950s, Blues for an African Princess, a 1971 collection of
poems, and Ammunition, a 1975 collection of poems. In 1990 Greenlee was the
Illinois
poet laureate.
Born in Chicago, Greenlee attended the
University of Wisconsin (BS, political science, 1952) and the
University of Chicago (1954-7). He is a member of
Kappa Alpha Psi Fraternity, Inc. He served in the military (1952-4),
earning the rank of first lieutenant, and subsequently worked for the
United States Information Agency, serving in Iraq (in 1958 he was
awarded the
Meritorious Service Medal for bravery during the
Baghdad revolution),
Pakistan,
Indonesia, and
Greece between 1957 and 1965. He undertook further study (1963-4) at the
University of Thessaloniki, in Greece, where he lived for three years.—Wikipedia
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Ammunition: Poetry and Other Raps
By Sam Greenlee
Greenlee is also known for such works as
Blues for an African Princess (1971), a collection of
poems. His novel
Baghdad Blues (1976) and
Ammunition: Poetry and Other Raps (1975) both deal with
African Americans’ pain, anger, and fear, particularly that of
those who are caught up in the racism and oppression of
government agencies.
Greenlee's contributions to the literary tradition in African
American literature have caused his readers to examine closely
the racial awareness or unawareness within agencies and
institutions that are designed to serve all Americans. His
presentation of African Americans’ duality and paradoxical
existence in a racist society is still providing scholars with
text to investigate the themes of racism. Greenlee is masterful
in his presentation of characters and community; his work is
saturated with the African American literary tradition.—Answers |
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Sam Greenlee is relaxed. He sits lotus
style on a rainbow-striped blanket, rolling cigarettes and talking in
reflective, short streams about the rage that fueled his 1969 underground
classic The
Spook Who Sat by the Door. "I planted the seed and I'll live to
see it grow," says Greenlee. The seed was a portrait of a black CIA agent
who trains a Chicago street gang to orchestrate a Mau Mau-style war on
whitey. Its growth was stunted, Greenlee has long contended, by a campaign
to keep the 1973 film version of the book out of theaters. "They haven't
discouraged me," says Greenlee, 63. "I'm old but I'm not tired. I'm
satisfied with my career, I've done the right thing."
Growing up in the 30s and 40s in west
Woodlawn, Greenlee lived an "idyllic" childhood filled with Sunday school,
Boy Scouts, and the rural, southern values of his parents. He went to
Englewood High and earned a track scholarship to the University of Wisconsin
in 1948. He began a graduate degree in international relations at the
University of Chicago. "I went to two white, brainwashing institutions. But
I'm the black dog that didn't fall for Pavlov's scam," he says with a
chuckle.
Greenlee joined the foreign service in
1957. "I wanted to see the world," he says, stroking his silver beard.
"Baghdad was my first post; they were having a revolution. I was in Pakistan
and Greece while both countries were having a coup. What I've lived is far
more exciting than anything I could make up."
After eight years, he left the foreign
service but stayed on the Greek island of Mykonos, where he began writing
his first novel. "I never could write while I was surrounded by those
people," he says of his colleagues. "I was so enraged when I came home every
night. I was watching them undermine whole cultures. The U.S. is the biggest
threat to world peace there is."—the
relaxed rage of Sam Greenlee
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On YouTube
The Spook Who Sat
by the Door /
Part 2 of 11
/
Part 3 of 11 /
Part 4 of
11 /
Part 5 of 11 /
Part 6 of
11
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Baghdad Blues
The Revolution That Brought Saddam Hussein to Power
By Sam Greenlee
This book is based on the
real life experience of a black man posted to Baghdad in the
late 1950s and employed by the US Information Bureau. His white
colleagues are totally out of touch with the emerging political
unrest protesting the corrupt royalist regime and when the
revolution erupts, the US embassy is shocked. The king it
supports is killed and the entire city of Baghdad is plunged
into political chaos and violence. Sam Greenlee is a most
engaging story teller...a very interesting read! Gives insight
into Saddam Hussein's ability to rise to power given the
preceding historical events.—amazon
customer |
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Salvage the Bones
A Novel by Jesmyn Ward
On one level, Salvage the Bones is a simple story about a poor black family that’s about to be trashed by one of the most deadly hurricanes in U.S. history. What makes the novel so powerful, though, is the way Ward winds private passions with that menace gathering force out in the Gulf of Mexico. Without a hint of pretension, in the simple lives of these poor people living among chickens and abandoned cars, she evokes the tenacious love and desperation of classical tragedy. The force that pushes back against Katrina’s inexorable winds is the voice of Ward’s narrator, a 14-year-old girl named Esch, the only daughter among four siblings. Precocious, passionate and sensitive, she speaks almost entirely in phrases soaked in her family’s raw land. Everything here is gritty, loamy and alive, as though the very soil were animated. Her brother’s “blood smells like wet hot earth after summer rain. . . . His scalp looks like fresh turned dirt.” Her father’s hands “are like gravel,” while her own hand “slides through his grip like a wet fish,” and a handsome boy’s “muscles jabbered like chickens.” Admittedly, Ward can push so hard on this simile-obsessed style that her paragraphs risk sounding like a compost heap, but this isn’t usually just metaphor for metaphor’s sake. She conveys something fundamental about Esch’s fluid state of mind: her figurative sense of the world in which all things correspond and connect. She and her brothers live in a ramshackle house steeped in grief since their mother died giving birth to her last child. . . . What remains, what’s salvaged, is something indomitable in these tough siblings, the strength of their love, the permanence of their devotion.— WashingtonPost
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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)
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Ancient African Nations
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The Death of Emmett Till by Bob Dylan
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The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll
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Only a Pawn in Their Game
Rev. Jesse Lee Peterson Thanks America for
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Haitian Declaration of Independence 1804
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