Broken Turtle Blog

Broken Turtle Blog

Saturday, September 29, 2012

A Personal Invitation from Phillip Bannowsky

Dear friends in arts, factories, and politics,

About twenty-five years ago, when I was a rank-and-file activist in the UAW and humping the assembly line at Chrysler, I discovered a rare young poet, Jim Daniels, who seemed to understand the dreams and difficulties of us autoworkers. Now he is coming to Delaware, and I hope all my friends and union brothers and sisters will come out to see him when he reads at 5 p.m. October 11th at UD’s Gore Hall in Room 116. Also, he will be joining my old friend and long serving former Delaware Poet Laureate, e. jean lanyon at the 30th Anniversary Celebration of 2nd Saturday Poets, 5 p.m., October 13th, at the Jackson Inn, 101 N. DuPont Road in Wilmington. Both events are open to the public. UD is free; 2nd Saturday requests a $5 donation, and the Jackson Inn, as a tavern, serves only over 21.

Jim Damiels
Daniels seemed to be living my dream. While I dropped out of UD in 1965 and hired on at Chrysler in 69, Daniels escaped early on from Ford to work at Carnegie Mellon University, where he has taught creative writing since 1981. Now he has written, edited, and produced over thirty works of poetry, fiction, and film, and he has won numerous awards. By the way, he wrote a generous blurb for the back cover of my Autoplant: a Poetic Monologue. He has read in countless union halls, universities, libraries, bars, and bookstores since 1978. One of his poems, “Factory Love,” from Places/Everyone, is decaled on the roof of race car driver Alex Gabau’s sports car: “Machine, I come to you 800 times a day/like a crazy monkey lover.”

I stayed at Chrysler, (except for 1992-95 on leave to teach in Ecuador) until I retired in 2001, and now I teach at the University of Delaware. I am proud to say I have had a role in bringing my old favorite to Newark and Wilmington. A big thanks is due for funding to UD’s English Department, the Faculty Senate, and the Delaware Humanities Forum. But it is not only pride that a feel, but a sort of vindication.

You see, my present employer, the University of Delaware, purchased the Chrysler Newark Assembly Plant (N.A.P.) site to use for its new Science, Technology and Advanced Research (STAR) Campus and for Bloom Energy. Ironically, UD had featured prominently in my Autoplant as the dream “gymnasium” from which I wandered in the late 60s across South College Avenue to Chrysler’s assembly line.

What had been hometown to so many Chrysler workers is now history. Now, history can either be a corpse treated to an academic post mortem or a living memory recounted in the poet’s imagination. Chrysler N.A.P wasn’t just so much private property; it was the site of our human drama and the embodiment of our creativity and sweat.

Photo by Harry Rohrer: Chrysler N.A.P Body-In-White
That’s how worklife appears in Jim Daniel’s poetic world: human and sweaty. Sometimes it highlights the inherent dignity in a bottom job. In “Short-order Cook,” for example, from Places/Everyone, when the narrator gets an order for “thirty cheeseburgers and thirty fries,” he deftly if frantically crowds thirty patties onto the grill, flips them, ads the cheese, builds them on buns, cooks two buckets of fries, wraps them all, bags the order, wipes his sweat, smiles at the counter girls, eats a handful of ice, and proceeds to

do a little dance and walk back to the grill.
Pressure, responsibility, success,
thirty cheeseburgers, thirty fries.

Other times the dignity comes harder. Digger is an autoworker whose troubles Daniels writes about in dozens of poems published across three decades. In “Digger Thinks About Numbers,” also from Places, our hero contemplates his contribution to the tally of cars built in Detroit on a big sign above the freeway. The poet speaks to Digger, noting how he wishes the sign said,

“Digger made 160,000 parts so far this year.”
You want your neighbor to come over
and congratulate you. But
he ties brake cables—he’d want a sign too.

Diego Rivera, 1927, Detroit Institute of Arts.
Daniels’ heroes aren’t just working out their place in the work place, but in their homes and in the spiritual order as well. Niagara Falls is a longer poem about a man on vacation with his family at the famous site. His mind drifts back to the hardscrabble existence of his parents, his Catholic upbringing, the prayers he learned and forgot, the perverted priest and the one who smoked pot, a shrunken head at Ripley’s Museum, Elvis, St. Francis of Assisi, feeding bread to an insatiable multitude of carp, and a recurring motif about a restaurant called Mama Something’s, where he got a bad case of heartburn. The poem ends by evoking that glimpse of grace that may be the best we can pray for:

We are carp swimming up river, Mama,
all of us, even you. I hold the steering wheel
in one hand. The other rests
on my wife’s knee. My wallet against my ass
tells me little about who I am.
It is the prayer book this world insists on.
The sound of the tires hisses in my ears
like rushing water.

If I was a saint, I might
scoop out my dashboard full of change
and toss it to the wind.
But I am counting it out
to pay my toll.


One of the most tragic poems is “Abandoned, Detroit,” from In Line for the Exterminator. The narrator and his dad take a ride to see if the house they and his great-grandfather lived in was still standing. They

                                                detour down
Benitau, slowing to look for the crumbling heap
of recognizable memory, then blowing through
stop signs back to the freeway.

He reminisces about the Great Flood of Detroit, with

                                                everybody
pitching in to clean up the sewage in each other’s basement,
nobody talking about whose shit it was.

And Daniels leaves us with a final image of Motor City grief:

Ragged Flakes of lead paint, yellow and brown,
seeping into the hallowed ground where our dead
were laid out, then carried across the street
to the church that is also no more. My heart’s
a wrecking ball, okay? I’m swinging away
at my holy places of abandonment.
I’m thinking about bricks as seeds.
I’m dreaming the dull sad eye
of the streetlight.

Jim Daniels shares many of our values of working class dignity, art for the people, and human rights. I hope to see you at the University, October 11 or at 2nd Saturday’s on October 13.


This program is partially funded by a grant from the Delaware Humanities Forum, a state program of the National Endowment for the Humanities.

Monday, September 3, 2012

A Restoration of Two Important Films

Eric Von Stroheim
This Labor Day morning I awoke, turned on the television to catch the latest news over breakfast, and when I got tired of the news being interrupted by commercials, I turned to Turner Classic Movies. I was pleasantly surprised to find myself in the middle of a classic silent film Greed, directed and produced by the famous director Eric Von Stroheim. I have to admit that Von Stroheim as a director and actor is a favorite, and I've been curious about his film Greed for a long time.

Von Stroheim had a reputation for shooting long films. He was a perfectionist for realistic detail and he strove to tell a more complete story on film than the Hollywood moguls thought appropriate. In spite of his brilliant filmmaking, his career as a filmmaker ended with the silent film era, but he went on to become a superb actor during the sound era. Two favorite examples are his roles in Jean Renoir's 1937 film La Grande Illusion and  Billy Wilder's Sunset Boulevard from 1950, which included footage from Von Stroheim's 1929 film Queen Kelly. Both Sunset Boulevard and Queen Kelly starred Gloria Swanson.

Serge Eisenstein
I couldn't help but to notice a comparison of the fate of Von Stroheim's Greed to another film by his contemporary Serge Eisenstein. That film was Que Viva Mexico! Von Stroheim's Greed was based on the Frank Norris naturalist novel McTeague. Eisenstein had made the trip to Hollywood from his home in the Soviet Union to make a film during those times of warmer feelings between our two countries generated by Roosevelt's New Deal. Initially Eisenstein planned to make a film version of the social realist novel by Theodore Dreiser, his 1925 An American Tragedy. Somewhat like Von Stroheim, Eisenstein ran into the Hollywood buzz saw of subterfuge, intrigue and sensibilities reminiscent of Fitzgerald's final novel The Last Tycoon. This whole set of circumstances drove Eisenstein to Mexico to embark upon the making of the film Que Viva Mexico! which he was unable to complete.

In spite of the fate of both Que Viva Mexico! and Greed, bowdlerized and shorter versions of each film were released. These versions distorted the messages that filmmakers Eisenstein and Von Stroheim intended, even though the superior quality of their filmmaking craft enabled the moguls to use the truncated films to recoup their investments.

About a decade ago a restored version of Eisenstein's Que Viva Mexico! was released. This was accomplished because footage intended for the finished film but relegated to the "cutting room floor" had been recovered. Along with notes  and story boards kept by Eisenstein's associates Grigori Alexandrov  and Eduard Tissé, a completed, though not finished film, was released.  Eisenstein had intended to portray the cultural identity of Mexico through its history up to and including its revolution of 1910 – 1920. Only surviving story boards depicted this latter portion of the film.

In Von Stroheim's Greed, the nearly restored four hour version that was broadcast on Turner Classic Movies had also been pieced together from various elements to demonstrate the filmmaker's original intent.  Much of the lost footage was replaced by movie stills. The inclusion of those stills was enough to incorporate the subplots that Von Stroheim intended, which also provided contrasting themes to a story of the destructive capacity of greed and the power it inflicts on the downward spiral of the personal lives of McTeague and his wife Trina.

Both Eisenstein and Von Stroheim were pioneers of early 20th century filmmaking. Both had to adjust to the caprices of their patrons, in spite of which both remained innovators, great stylists of cinema, and uncompromising champions of progressive causes. Both Que Viva Mexico! and Greed are well worthy of viewing. 

Friday, August 10, 2012

UD to Limit Election Debate?

Andrew Groff for US Senate
(Green Party &
Endorsed by Libertarian Party)

Does anyone else in the UD community object to the lack of fair academic and democratic principles underlying the exclusion of minority parties and independent candidates from the October 17 and 18 UD-sponsored congressional and gubernatorial debates? Others are weighing in.

It is one thing for corporate media to be complicit in the deals cooked up by the major parties to exclude minority parties from debates; it is another for a university seeking “prominence” to truncate the discourse. Demonstrating a commitment to principles lacking at UD, the League of Women Voters withdrew their support for the Presidential debates after the two big parties took them over in 1988.

According to the press release published in UDaly, organizers of the debate, Director  of UD’s “nonpartisan” Center for Political Communication Ralph Begleiter and Delaware First Media President Micheline B. Boudreau, justify their exclusionary policy based on “nationally recognized debate inclusion criteria established by the Debate Advisory Standards Project.” Recognized by whom? by a political class that has discredited itself to many Americans?

Alex Pires for US Senate
(Independent)
They also rely on precedent, because they got away with this before in 2008 (and 2010), except that they had to suffer the embarrassment of Green Candidate Michael Berg hopping onto the stage with a campaign sticker over his mouth. The video went viral on YouTube.  

Among the criteria for inclusion: “3 campaign contributions per 1,000 residents . . . of $50 or more. “ Alternatively, candidates could poll 10 percent or more or have previously held political office. 50 bucks is a lot of money for folks unemployed or living on poverty wages. They may be disenchanted by the political class but know nothing about the alternatives, thanks to UD, and will be unlikely to cite minority candidates when polled.

Bernard August for US House
(Green Party)
Without irony, Micheline Boudreaus boasts that “[p]roviding avenues for civil discourse is a core component of our mission at DFM and WDDE. These debates also offer a premier learning experience to our student interns who assist in the production of the event.” Narrowing the discourse is hardly a “premier learning experience,” unless you are trying to indoctrinate students in received wisdom. For UD to take part in this pseudo-debate is a violation of its educational mission.

Scott Gesty for US House
Libertarian Party
So, how do the faculty, who are supposed to be guiding lights of the university curriculum, feel about this? Does their fear of left or right spoilers trump their obligations to an open discourse? I say the UD should insist that candidates who want to use their facilities must abide by the spirit of free inquiry and take on all comers. They include Andrew Groff (Green Party and endorsed by Libertarians) and Alex Pires (independent) for US Senate and Scott Gesty (Libertarian) and Bernie August (Green) for US House.

Your thoughts?

Monday, July 30, 2012

The New Jim Crow in the First State


Is Jim Crow alive in the USA and in Delaware in particular? In this era of the Civil Rights Act, affirmative action, and an Obama in the White House, do we still live under a system of laws designed to keep the black man down? That is what Michelle Alexander charges in her explosive new book, The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness. Piecemeal reforms and timid civil rights activism, she argues, must give way to a sweeping transformation, based on a recognition of the massive injustice against black America and on compassion for the stigmatized young African American male.

If she’s right, what does that say about the First State? Is it possible that the terrible gun violence afflicting Wilmington can be traced to the War on Drugs and how it has disenfranchised a generation of black youth? Is it possible that black youth, labeled felons, unable to find work, and ineligible for public services including student aid, are turning to the drug trade, where, competing with others so disenfranchised, they are engaged in a battle for survival that is inevitably violent? Is it possible that well-meaning reformers, focused on narrow aspects of the problem and dependent on the system, are perpetuating the greater injustice? After considering Alexander’s book and examining official criminal justice records, I am convinced the answer to all these questions is yes.

Back in the late 90s, I worked with a coalition then called the Alliance for the Restoration of Ex-Offenders, whose mission was to amend the Delaware Constitution to permit ex-felons to vote. Capping a battle that went back 20 years to the struggles of the late Representative Al O. Plant, we succeeded, although Delaware still requires a five-year wait following completion of sentences, including economic penalties and other restrictions. Another amendment, the Hazel D. Plant Voter Restoration Act, (HB 9), which will remove most restrictions, will reach its final leg in the 2013 General Assembly. While one of my motivations was the disparate impact felon disenfranchisement had on African Americans, I learned never to use the word “racist” in the State Legislature. I also learned that many ex-felons had other concerns than just the right to vote. They told me, in so many words, “It’s great, Phil, if we can get to vote, but we need jobs.”

The hurdles that ex-offenders face in getting a job, described by Michelle Alexander’s work, demonstrate the weakness of the piece-meal reforms we worked so hard for in the nineties. Barring 7.5 percent of its voters, Delaware is still second in the nation in disenfranchising its citizens, ahead of states with greater restrictions on felons voting, according to the ACLU. Arguably, there are more disenfranchised now than when we won our victory.  My experience then and reading The New Jim Crow now convinces me that it is time to call the War on Drugs and its attendant mass incarceration what it is, a racist criminal justice system, and to seek its abolition.

Alexander’s thesis is that in spite of today’s lack of overt racist sentiment and the appearance of African Americans in high positions, caste disenfranchisement that began with slavery has persisted in new forms throughout our history and exists today in our criminal justice system, due in large part to the War on Drugs. “Colorblindness” is more a blindness to the color line than its abolition.

She traces the seesaw battle between racial progress and mechanisms to maintain blacks as a “lower caste,” that is, “individuals who are permanently barred by law and custom from mainstream society.” Black and white bond workers worked shovel by plow together and even linked arms against plantations barons in Bacon’s Rebellion of 1675. Planters learned their lesson and began importing more slaves and offering special privileges to whites. Upon a “racial bribe” for poor whites and upon the interests of wealth, then, slavery, the original system of caste control, took root.

Following emancipation,  “black codes” like vagrancy laws were imposed to force blacks back on the plantation. Reconstruction, backed by federal troops, led to progress, but when the troops were withdrawn, Klan terror and “Jim Crow” laws imposed a new regime of caste control that lasted over 75 years.

In the modern era, the Civil Rights movement, the Civil Rights Act, and the Voting Rights Act did much to dismantle the system of racial caste, but the economic and cultural forces of Jim Crow did not die away, according to Alexander; they are reborn in mass incarceration. Once incarcerated, blacks enter a “hidden underworld of legalized discrimination and permanent social exclusion”:

Once you’re labeled a felon, the old forms of discrimination—employment discrimination, housing discrimination, denial of the right to vote, denial of educational opportunity, denial of food stamps and other public benefits, and exclusion from jury service—are suddenly legal. As a criminal, you have scarcely more rights, and arguably less respect, than a black man at the height of Jim Crow.

But “whoa,” the reader will protest. “If you do the crime, you do the time. Race has nothing to do with it. If 61 percent behind bars are blacks and Hispanics, so what if they’re only 29 percent of the population? Blacks and browns are committing the crimes.” 

Well-meaning reformers bolster the notion that crime is a black thing, according to Alexander, because, blinded by the colorblindness myth, they see the disparities in incarceration as due

to the predictable though unfortunate, consequences of poverty, racial segregation, unequal educational opportunities, and the presumed realities of the drug market, including the mistaken belief that most drug dealers are black or brown.

That drug crime is not a particularly black or brown phenomenon is Alexander’s most shocking revelation. The misconception began, she says, during the Reagan era. Right after Reagan declared the War on Drugs in 1982, crack cocaine began to spread across the country. She recalls that drug traffickers associated with Nicaraguan “Contras” were protected by the CIA, which, under Reagan, supported their war against the Sandinista Government. She rejects conspiracy theories that the CIA spread crack deliberately, but Reagan’s staff began to publicize the spread “to build public and legislative support for the war.” In short order, reports Alexander, “the media was saturated with images of black ‘crack whores,’ ‘crack dealers,’ and ‘crack babies’—images that seemed to confirm the worst negative racial stereotypes about impoverished inner-city residents.”

Soon, get-tough-on-crime laws proliferated. Since Ronald Reagan declared the War and Drugs in 1982, incarceration in the United States has soared from less than 500,000 to 2,266,832 at the end of 2010. No other country imprisons citizens at so high a rate. 

In spite of the overwhelmingly dark complexion of the prison population, blacks and whites actually use drugs at roughly the same rates, reveals Alexander, citing the 2000 and 2007 National Household Surveys on Drug Abuse.

Alexander ascribes the discrepancy between drug use and drug arrest to several factors, but especially the stop and frisk policies in black neighborhoods, federal incentives to local law enforcement, excessive plea bargaining, neglect by the Civil Rights community, and a number of federal court cases disallowing disparate impact as evidence of discrimination without explicitly expressed intent. If you can’t find some lawmaker saying he wants this law because it will keep the black man down, you don’t have a case. Wink-and-a-nod-racism empowers the New Jim Crow.

Do Delaware politicians, policy-makers, police, and statisticians similarly wink and nod?  Recall how I was told “Don’t use the word ‘racism’” when working on ex-felon voting rights in the Delaware General Assembly. Let’s look at a 2011 report requested by that august Assembly, submitted by the Criminal Justice Statistical Review Committee.

At the outset, the study seems to confront the issue directly. “Some observers,” they report, “suggest that racial profiling and selective targeting cause a disproportionate number of minority arrests.” To see if this is so, they compare percentages of blacks identified in complaints for robbery, assault, and rape to percentages of blacks who were consequently arrested, detained, convicted, and incarcerated. Blacks led significantly, if not dramatically, in almost every category but convictions, which whites, if arrested, were more likely to face. In the end, however, even if convicted, whites were less likely to face jail.  Based on this data, the Review Committee reassured the General Assembly that “racial disparities in the criminal justice system in Delaware are primarily explained by disparities in reported criminal activity rather than selective enforcement” They allow, however, that the study “shows a clear need to delve into these statistics to determine if there is racial bias or if the racial disparities reflect factors unrelated to the criminal justice system, or some combination of both.”

They should have delved.

Instead, they duck the issue of racial profiling in drug crimes. Because drug dealing “does not involve specific individual victims,” they explain, arrests are not generally responses to complaints, so “these arrests may be perceived to be police-initiated.” Nonetheless, they explain, such crimes “involve neighborhood quality of life complaints or investigations of other criminal activity, and the drug trade has long been associated with high levels of street violence.” Therefore, they conclude,  “[i]t is . . . problematic to regard drug dealing arrests as simply discretionary law enforcement choices.” There’s nothing to see here if 72.9 percent of those arrested for “drug dealing” are black (white percentages not reported). Once arrested, blacks are much more likely than whites to be detained (85.4 percent black vs. 68.3 percent white) and incarcerated if convicted (60.2 percent Black vs. 36.9 percent white). Recall that only slightly more than 20 percent of Delaware residents are black.

Whether or not police arrests are racially biased begs the question of whether blacks are committing drug crimes more than whites. Furthermore, the issue of violent crime is a red herring, but it is a fish that has been well baked by the much-vaunted Delaware Sentencing Accountability Commission (SENTAC).

In SENTAC’s study “2007 Superior Court Drug Case Sentencing Patterns,” researchers John P. O’Connel, Jr. and Spencer B. Price attempt to show how the Delaware Drug Court mitigates some of the concerns raised by Michele Alexander.

First, they address the hypothetical question “Isn’t it true that most offenders are sentenced to prison for non-violent offenses?” The answer, they assert, can be given “with some certainty when using the legal definition of violent crime found in 11§ 4201.” A quick search of the Delaware Code shows that many drug crimes, from “Manufacture of Controlled Substances” to “Aggravated Possession,” are defined as violent crimes. Thus, with some Orwellian circular reasoning, because Delaware says a drug crime is a violent crime, then only violent criminals are in prison.

Having excluding most drug offenders from the “non-violent” category, SENTAC then asks “[h]ow many non-violent drug offenders are sentenced to prison?” The answer: only 14 in 2007. Despite SENTAC’s assurances, of the 2075 convictions that were for drugs only (both the statutorily “violent” and the “non violent” kind), the vast majority served some time incarcerated and were permanently labeled “felon,” if they were not already so labeled, and permanently relegated to what Michelle Alexander calls the “lower caste.”

If you do the crime, you do the time . . . if you’re black.

This explosive charge by Michele Alexander applies in the First State.

Extrapolating from figures in Results from the 2008 National Survey on Drug Use and Health and US Census data for Delaware in 2010 for persons aged 12 and over, roughly 43,000 whites used illicit drugs in the past month, while a little over 16,000 blacks did. Put another way, over two and a half times as many whites as blacks used illicit drugs in any recent month. Yet, according to the report to the General Assembly cited above, 72.9 percent of adult males arrested for “drug dealing” were black.

By the way, those National Surveys on Drug Use are based on confidential and anonymous interviews and are well accepted for their reliability.

One can argue that we are comparing apples to oranges, one year’s convictions for drug dealing to another year’s use by persons over 12, or drug dealing to a host of drug offences that may or not be statutorily violent, so we cannot draw any conclusions. Perhaps that is the idea. None of the studies I have found focus acutely on the issue of racial disparity between drug crime and drug arrest. Much less do they deal with the complex networks of wink-and-a-nod racism.

What is to be done?

There are many good folks trying out solutions to the wave of violence in the cities, the disappearance of young black men into the criminal justice system, and drug abuse. Churches, non profits, activists, and mental health providers offer alternatives and advocate limited reforms. The News Journal has been promoting the Safe Communities approach, that lets concerned citizens confront gang members and offer alternatives to their ultimate incarceration. All of these are good, but almost every criminal justice reform, civil rights, peace, and social justice organization or non-profit intersects on some level with the state’s hierarchy of bankers, politicians, and chateau-country elites, who might be offended if we go off the plantation.

Nonetheless, all our efforts will fail unless they are grounded in a common set of values that says the War on Drugs must end and the prison system must be abolished.

Drugs are a social problem, not a criminal problem. Crimes associated with drugs are virtually all products of their prohibition and the lack of mental health services for those addicted.

Many families know the nightmare of addiction. They struggle against forces that tear them apart, and they struggle together to get their loved ones treatment, before they end up incarcerated, sick, homeless, or dead. Those with means go to Betty Ford’s. Those without, go to jail, come out stigmatized and disenfranchised, and fall into the quicksands of relapse, trafficking, and a violent struggle to survive.

The reduction in harms with drug legalization is known. In the ten years since Portugal in effect legalized all drugs, drug use has fallen across the board, HIV infections are down 17 percent, and drug deaths have fallen one half. Drug trade violence is forcing many countries to face the inevitable: The War on Drugs is a disaster. In the United States, it has spawned the New Jim Crow.

Next door in New Jersey, Republican Governor Chris Christie has declared, "The war on drugs, while well-intentioned, has been a failure." He adds, "Every life is precious and every one of God's creatures can be redeemed, but they won't if we ignore them."

Michele Alexander demands that blacks who have won social mobility in the “Age of Colorblindness,” as well as whites, give up the “racial bribe” that buys silence about what happens to “the least among us,” white, black, or brown. She quotes Martin Luther King, Jr. who told SCLC staff less than a year before his death, “it is necessary for us to realize that we have moved from the era of civil rights to the era of human rights. . . . We must see the great distinction between a reform movement and a revolutionary movement. We are called up to raise certain basic questions about the whole society.”

It is no coincidence that accompanying the spread of this heartless mass incarceration since the 80s has been the rise of a heartless economic policy called neoliberalism (neo:new; liber: free). Free the class of plutocrats from any social contract, free the rich from taxes, free the employer from paying a living wage, free the banks and industries from regulation, cut loose the social safety net, and replace it with jail. Liberals, meaning liberal Democrats, no longer act free to challenge neoliberalism. While they have rightly challenged the Jim Crow aspects of new voter ID laws, they are shy about taking on the prison-industrial complex, looking weak on law and order, or taking on Jim Crow in the War on Drugs.

The economic collapse brought on by neoliberalism has drained accumulated wealth among blacks more than whites, who have also suffered mightily. Runaway industries offer few opportunities for whites to maintain their lifestyles or for a new generation of African Americans to rise to the middle class, in spite of affirmative action. The young black male, disenfranchised by the New Jim Crow, faces towering obstacles.

Movements like Occupy Wall Street and Occupy Delaware have awakened the nation and the state to the increasing imbalance in power and wealth between the richest one per cent and the ninety-nine per cent that is the rest of us. They are exposing the central contradiction of our time, something that is inspiring people across the globe to rise up in revolt. What they and all of us need to do is to recognize who is paying the greatest price for neoliberalism and put the overthrow of the New Jim Crow front and center.

For all who would march toward justice, read Michelle Alexander’s The New Jim Crow and you’ll see farther down the road where our paths must meet. 

Sunday, April 22, 2012

Merely a Table of Contents

Below is the Table of Contents for my completed book, Valdemar's Corpse, about Delaware's secret literary history. It is more than a mere survey. It is a 106,491 word story of Delaware's literary legacy:


1. Introduction: Delaware’s 20th Century Griswold


2. John Lofland: Delaware’s First Literary Pariah


3. Two Articles by John Lofland While Living and Working in Baltimore

4. Lofland the Progressive


5. The Milford Bard and the Mysterious Woman of his Final Romance


6. Two Tales from the Novels of Robert Montgomery Bird;

“Searching for the Body of Sheppard Lee,” and,

“The Confession of Ralph Stackpole, Horse Thief”


7. Delaware Author George Alfred Townsend’s Novels about Slavery & Murder


8. George Alfred Townsend: Between Twain and Able


9. New Castle Hi-jinx; Charles Heber Clark’s Out of the Hurly-Burly

and Ella Middleton Tybout’s Poketown People


10. Henry Seidel Canby & Christopher Ward:

Forerunners of Wilmington’s 20th Century Literary Movement


11. The Novels of John and Mary Biggs and Poe’s Karma


12. Nothing Ends in Life: Mary Biggs’ Lily-Iron


13. The Great Gatsby’s Delaware Connection:

A Review of Gatsby, GATH, and Gault by David W. Meredith


14. Bunny, The Judge and The Last Tycoon


15. Anne & Dillwyn Parrish, And The Roles of the Interloper


16. James Whaler, Wilmington’s Most Successful 20th Century Poet


17. Haunted by Home: The Life and Works of Charles Wertenbaker


18. Boojum’s Books: Green Peyton’s

Black Cabin and Rain on the Mountain, and Other Stories


19. First Crash: The Earliest Literary Works of G. Peyton Wertenbaker


20. Victor Thaddeus' Unpublished Comic Opera, ‘ORRIBLE 'ARRY and THE COURT TIGER, and lost novella, LEO REX


21. Children in the Maelstrom: Two Post War Novels by Anne Parrish


22. Where Evil is Stronger Than Love: The Wartime Novels of Two Delaware Authors


23. The Patron Saint of Baynard Boulevard: A Personal View of the Life and Times of Wilmington Poet David Hudson


24. The Legacy of Delaware’s Poets and the Post World War II Poetry Movement


25. The Hoax Nobody Noticed


Sound interesting? Curious? Even if you might be interested or curious, you may never have the opportunity to read it. Valdemar's Corpse has been rejected by the University of Delaware Press twice, Oak Knoll Press twice, as well as by Greywolf Press and Schiffler Publishing Ltd. Most of it has been serialized in The Broadkill Review but not in sequence, so the "story" doesn't emerge. I don't even know how widely read those chapters have been. I can no longer afford to self publish. What should I do? Should I send files of the manuscript, along with selected pictures, to people who might be interested? I don't know who'd be interested or curious. Should I keep trying to find a publisher? How long will that take? I've done all this work and I'm really tired and sinking deeper into poverty. I'm frustrated that what I consider to be valuable information is not being made available, especially for the sake of discovery by others who never knew there was such a thing as a Delaware' secret literary history. Or should I conclude that no one's interested in past Delaware literary artists and give in to the prevailing amnesia? Could that be some reflection about the prevailing interest in current Delaware literature? Or should I conclude I've deluded myself with my own conceit, wasted my time, and just delete the file?


Wednesday, April 4, 2012

Our e. jean lanyon: Still Indestructable

Our e. jean Lanyon, Delaware Poet Laureate from 1979 to 2001, Dreamstreets Magazine founder and illustrator, Pea Patch Island imager, and driving force behind the First State Writers for 50 years, will be featured in a timely retrospective of her art work April 6 through May 23 at the Biggs Museum of American Art in Dover, Delaware.

Mystic Tree, watercolor by E. Jean Lanyon
A true plein air artist, E. Jean Lanyon (so spelled when painting) has carted her easel and brushes for half a century into the glittering undergrowth of the Diamond State bioregion from Brandywine Springs Park to Pea Patch island and brought back a treasure trove of evocative canvases. The opening reception will take place from 5:00 to 8:00 p.m. April 6. There will be a Gallery Talk by Curator Ryan Grover and e. jean will read her poetry at 6:30 p.m. The Biggs Museum is located at 406 Federal Street, Dover, Delaware 19903.

I just pulled down a sample of e. jean lanyon’s literary work from my bookshelf. On top is Woman Scrapbook, a blue 1979 chapbook filled with poems and collages from the life of the mother, widow, feminist, poet, and artist. “For Flip Bannowsky,” she wrote on the title page, “in sisterhood for a fellow poet.” The book is an artifact of the era of the ERA—the Equal Rights Amendment—which flashed in the pan of American politics until it was shouted down by the traditional values claque of the day.

Our e. jean was no flash in the pan, however, and she has persevered as a Delaware institution since she first published her work in the University of Delaware’s Grover back in 1955. She began as a practicing professional fine artist in 1958. In 1970, her first volume of poetry, The Myrno Bird came out. Her People Garden appeared in 1976. She has continued to publish, edit, mentor, teach, paint, speak, garner awards and honors, and organize readings through all the vicissitudes of her productive life.

Someone once said that there would be a poetry reading in Browntown when pigs fly. Browntown is a traditional working class Polish Community on Maryland Avenue where it runs into Wilmington. She and Peg Clifford took the challenge and organized a reading in the back room of Browntown’s Cedar Tavern for several years running. They called it, appropriately, Pigs Fly. That whimsical nature is visited in the occasional pocket-sized musings of one Nezzra O’Possum of lanyon’s Possum Garage Press, now up to #12. Nezzra laments the inhumanities, insanities, and insults of an insufferable world, but just can’t bring herself to buy into the self-righteous pessimism of the professional pity-me class. The annals of e. jean Lanyon appear in her annual newsletter, illustrated and printed in her own hand to recount her many juried exhibitions, life challenges, and victories.

Of course I am prejudiced. We have been friends ever since I interviewed her for an article in the September 1980 edition of The Delaware Alternative Press. It was called “Indestructible e. jean lanyon.” She was challenging the sexist employment practices at the University of Delaware, where she had worked as a draftsperson in the Facilities Planning Office for eight years. She was living penuriously and frugally, raising funds for her case by selling signed prints of her drawings.  Since then e. jean lanyon has been ubiquitous in Delaware’s artistic and literary scene. I have seen her at almost every Second Saturday reading since the Eschaton Writers, of which she was a founding member, inaugurated it over thirty years ago.

The art and poetry of e. jean lanyon is direct, accessible, honest, contemplative, and beautiful. Ever refusing to be obscure, she has portrayed her life and the natural environment of Delaware as something for everyone to experience. How she has led her life is an inspiration to every artist struggling to be seen and heard in a tiny state that can be insular and suffocating. But our e. jean remains indestructible.

Sunday, March 11, 2012

HERE'S JOHN GALT!

To the right is the cover of the first paperback edition of Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged that I read while still in high school in 1962. The print of my hand with my thumb pushing up through the word "Atlas" can still be seen. As a slow reader in high school, it took several months to read it, carrying it with me through all my classes. I savored every word and soon embraced the philosophy Rand espoused.

My father, who read this very same edition before me, said Rand's novel was an allegory, but I was overpowered by it. I even had the experience of asking Ayn Rand a question during a lecture she gave in late 1962 in Philadelphia. I couldn't help but to notice how many in the audience dressed to emulate the characters in her novels, how many women dressed to look like Dagny Taggart and how many of the men fancied themselves to look like Howard Roark. My question was a simple one about cinema. Many in the audience snickered openly at my question, but Rand gently admonished them and, having begun her career in cinema as a screenwriter and extra in Hollywood, and patiently answered my question and left a lasting impression. Later when I became a student of cinema I found her answer to my question valuable for my own assessment of the films I later viewed.

As I continued to live my life I attempted to embody Rand's philosophy to my own life, using it to address my personal problems and shortcomings. Over time I found Rand's philosophy in this manner an utter failure. Coupled with my father's comment that Atlas Shrugged was an allegory, the epiphany provided by my participation in the Vietnam War, the Counter Culture and reading Marx, Engels and Lenin revealed the central allegory of her novel.

Time and better understanding had caused her philosophy to fade from my mind, but I still relished the fact that Atlas Shrugged is a marvelously written work, which contributes to its power as a great piece of American literature that remains in print. However, the notion of allegory, of looking at Atlas Shrugged as a literary work, led me to discover a fatal flaw in Rand's use of it to promote a faulty philosophy.

In Atlas Shrugged is found the refrain, uttered during critical points in the narrative, "Who is John Galt?" We don't really meet John Galt in Rand's novel until near the end of the story. However, the reader learns little details about him throughout the earlier parts of the novel, the main one being that John Galt is an inventor who has invented a kind of perpetual motion machine.

In spite of the literary device of delaying the appearance of the novel's prime character, John Galt does make appearances throughout Atlas Shrugged. He is a worker for Dagny and her brother James's Railroad Company. Anonymously, Galt occasionally engages in coincidental conversations in the company's lunchroom with Eddie Willers, who is one of Dagny's underlings. Willers conveys the essence of these conversations to Dagny Taggard, who is conflicted as to whether she should join the strike of all men of mind—and presumably some women—who have brought the economy to its knees by disappearing or withdrawing from the world and hiding out in a secret location.

Hindsight had exposed the ultimate literary allegory, embedded in the very nature of the prime character of Atlas Shrugged, that of John Galt. It occurred to me that the only perpetual motion machine engaged in production of all sorts, the only thing that produces wealth itself is the working class. It would be fitting and appropriate for Rand to originally portray the "inventor" of the perpetual motion machine as an anonymous worker. Near the end of the novel, John Galt commandeers the world's broadcast system and imparts his—and Rand's—tome to the individual with all its allusions to human value and secular morality. It is the philosophy of "objectivism" in a nutshell. At the end of the novel, almost like a benediction, Galt traces the sign of the dollar in the air. We need to remember that the dollar is not wealth in and of itself, only the means of exchange, called "currency,” by which labor, which in the parlance of "labor power" is the commodity we exchange for the commodities we produce as that perpetual motion machine called the working class. By tracing that sign of the dollar in the air, Galt reaffirms the true exchange of wealth from those who produce it to those who use it, and from those who use it to those who produce it, a notion dangerously close to the axiom, "From each according to their abilities to each according to their needs."

One wonders if Ayn Rand had not been spinning her wheels in order to avoid her aversion to the a socialist model of human endeavors, which we as a species have not completely worked out in spite of all those stops and starts, setbacks and experiments and later perspectives. After all, one might argue that Rand, who as a girl, may have been traumatized at her young age from her family's escape from the travails of the Bolshevik Revolution. As time went on in the midst of an American capitalist orgy, her faith may have been bolstered in the notion of an ultimate efficacy of capitalism tempered by a kind of idealized libertarian anarchy. In the end we might come to the conclusion, in the case of Ayn Rand's considerable literary contribution, that the most durable and efficacious truths may be embedded less in her philosophy and more in her literature.

After 50 years, I still remember Ayn Rand’s answer to my question. She told me how some filmmakers use texture in their conveyance of image and subtle emphasis to certain details to reveal intent. She suggested that these devices could transform image into what is beautiful, and that by the end of the film help certain truths to emerge from the mind of the filmmaker. After 50 years since I plodded word for word through the texture and details in Atlas Shrugged, certain truths, perhaps unavoidably, have emerged from the fertile soil of experience and knowledge as well as from the literature, not the philosophy, of Ayn Rand.