The first Prelude is one of the few songs I can still fake my way through on my dusty old cello. Maybe that’s why I like this amazing little thing so much:
[This first came my way via Flowing Data, one of my favorite nerdy blogs, and then again recently as I rambled around Public School.]
(The Chicago Defender staff circa…back in the day)
Late last year, I was reading about Gwendolyn Brooks and stumbled across a few references to Lights and Shadows—a poetry column that ran in the Chicago Defender back in the 1920s and 30s. The column published some of Brooks’s earliest poems, written when she was a teenager living in Bronzeville. She describes that time—or I guess just a bit before that time—in Report From Part One, which might be one of my favorite autobiography titles ever:
Dreamed a lot. As a little girl I dreamed freely, often on the top step of the back porch—morning, noon, sunset, deep twilight. I loved clouds, I loved red streaks in the sky. I loved the gold worlds I saw in the sky… I was writing all the time. My mother says I began rhyming at seven—but my notebooks date back to my eleventh year only. Careful rhymes. Lofty meditations.
I couldn’t find much information about Lights and Shadows—which made me curious, which lead me into the Defender’s archives, which lead me into a little poetic community I found totally captivating, which eventually lead me to Dewey Roscoe Jones Jr.— the son of the man who edited Lights and Shadows for most of its existence. He’s now the keeper of his father’s collected letters, papers, and writings, and he generously spoke with me and shared some of those materials.
But anyway: all of that backstory isn’t quite as interesting as the story of Lights and Shadows itself, which is up on the Poetry Foundation’s website. Check it out and please spread the word to people or communities who might know more about this history. Most—maybe all—of the poets who published in L&S have passed away, but I’d love to hear from any friends or relatives who have memories.
This image comes from a 1927 Defender article on Lights and Shadows, which introduced a bunch of the column’s contributing poets. The story was written by L&S editor Dewey Roscoe Jones Sr. (Click for a bigger view).
I’m working at this fine place these days, writing and producing multimedia stories for their website. It has brought a lot of good poems into my life, like this one by Jean Toomer, which struck me with its eerie bustle — part city life sequence, part surrealist daydream.
Beehive
Within this black hive tonight
There swarm a million bees;
Bees passing in and out the moon,
Bees escaping out the moon,
Bees returning through the moon,
Silver bees intently buzzing,
Silver honey dripping from the swarm of bees
Earth is a waxen cell of the world comb,
And I, a drone,
Lying on my back,
Lipping honey,
Getting drunk with silver honey,
Wish that I might fly out past the moon
And curl forever in some far-off farmyard flower.
Last week the silver-tongued Irish broadcaster Ronan Kelly featured “Lights Out” (which explores the 1977 NYC blackout and the looting that followed and the beginnings of hip hop) on his RTE program called The Curious Ear. He thought it was topical, with all the recent rioting in and around London. It’s the first time a story I’ve made has aired outside the U.S., which is exciting. Yes.
While you’re here, may I recommend a Tumblr of songs curated by a dear friend of mine? She features one a week-ish, with a photo and some brief thoughts. Gallopinging.
A story I made with support from the Sound Bank (thanks, In the Dark!) is now up online. It’s about the connection between the 1977 New York City blackout and the beginnings of hip-hop. Think: aspiring young DJs without much money, post-blackout looting, and abundant hi-fi stores. And then, actually, just go listen to it. Thanks to Grandmaster Caz (the originator of this particular bit of alternative history), Bronx County historian Lloyd Ultan, hip-hop scholar Joe Schloss, the WNYC archives, and D.C. LaRue.
And… there’s this too.
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