The Poetry of Protest

ImageAlice Paul

Today’s posting has nothing to do with my book.  Instead I am moved to comment on today’s news.

The news of Pete Seeger’s passing is popping up everywhere on all my personal media settings.  And I, as millions of others loved the music of Pete Seeger.  I always have.  The beauty of his voice alone, or with his group, “The Weavers” still echoes compellingly in my mind.

Yet, today, with his passing, I’m not thinking of the silenced music.  As essentially American as his voice and lyrics resonated, the lessons I learned from Pete Seeger are more linked to political conviction and courage.  His was the voice of the non-conformist, the social and political critic who challenged conventional beliefs.

Seeger served in uniform during World War Two.  Though he was a young man when he soldiered, his participation says a great deal about the justness of America’s struggle against totalitarianism.  But after the war, Seeger seems to have instantly grasped the politics of the Cold War for was it was, an excuse to stifle the voice of opposition.  Seeger suffered for his convictions.  When popular thought demanded unified anti-Communist behavior, Seeger did not comply.  It was justice he sought, and in the days of racism and blind war mongering, Seeger would not close his eyes and pretend America practiced equality and liberty.  And his beliefs landed him in political hot water.

His banjo and singing voice were his only sword and sidearm– yet still he made himself a dangerous man to an American government that demanded wall to wall consensus.  This troubadour appeared to be fearless in expressing his thoughts, singing anywhere and everywhere he saw injustice.

The Vietnam War provided Seeger and a growing segment of Americans a broader platform to protest Johnson-Nixon policies in Southeast Asia.

I remember that he was to appear on “The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour,” and sing Waist Deep in the Big Muddy, an anti-war song.  Such a powerful message!  The lyrics at bottom called out the man in the White House as a “big fool.”  CBS pulled Seeger from the show out of fear of retribution from stock holders, sponsors and hawkish politicians.  To their credit, the Smothers Brothers refused to go on until Seeger was allowed back on the show.  CBS caved, Seeger appeared, the feelings of America soured more on the war, and for a wide variety of reasons America withdrew from that nightmarish miasma.

This blog is a tribute to other voices of opposition across many generations of Americans.  The list is long of patriotic citizens who understood the First Amendment meant what it said.  We should honor the lives of those who resisted the tyranny of a majority they believed misguided.

William Lloyd Garrison, Frederick Douglass, Sojourner Truth, Margaret Fuller, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Helen Hunt Jackson, Homer Plessy, Jacob Riis, Henry George, Lewis Hine, “Mother” Mary Harris Jones, Ida Tarbell, Ida B. Wells, Eugene V. Debs, Alice Paul, Big Bill Haywood, Phil Ochs, Mario Savio, Cesar Chavez, Bobby Kennedy, Diane Nash, Bayard Rustin, Daniel Ellsberg, Harvey Milk, and the other thousands of names left off this list.

Hoist one tonight for Pete Seeger and the multitude of others who braved the currents of popular thought, for there is nothing more American than to question the status quo.

Define Truth

One question raised about River of January is,”Are my characters brushes with the famous true?”  The short answer is yes.  Helen dined with Maurice Chevalier, and they performed on the same stage.  Chum crossed paths with Amelia Earhart regularly at Roosevelt Field.   The celebrity passages are factual.  I have their pictures with the famous, references from documents, and proof in aviation logbooks.

Creative non-fiction appears to be a new genre in search of defining itself.  Where exactly is the line between creative and non-fiction?  Though I need to tell this story, I certainly wasn’t alive at the time.  Frankly who knows what the characters precisely uttered to one another at any given time.  I tried to rely on personal and business letters, quoting at length when I could, to add tone, cadence and a feel for the era.  I am adding a lot of pictures for readers to visually connect to the characters, and the sights they photographed on their travels.  Additional color had to come from my imagination, with clues found  in the archive of family memorabilia.

My personal preference in reading is non-fiction history.  I have lived on a strong steady diet of biographies and general histories.  Still I wonder how any scholar concludes their work without feeling uneasily incomplete.  The subtleties of human interaction, the nuances of personal connection are more than left out.  We simply can’t know all facets of historic lives.  Our only alternative is to flesh out the tale with what we understand about the human condition.  And of course every writer struggles with their own blinders, biases, and preconceived notions.

For example the age old question of General Washington’s taciturn exterior has intrigued historians for two centuries.  Was he grave and somber because his teeth hurt?  Possibly.  Did he wish to hide his false teeth due to the fact they were unsightly,  fashioned out of a number of materials–ivory to human–to wood.  Are both theories wrong?  Did Washington remain stoic in appearance to evoke nobility and dignity?  Maybe.  In fact, all of the above could pass scrutiny.  Different historians have differing opinions.

I am not too troubled about shaping feelings in ways I think makes sense.  I’ve fallen in love, held my own in arguments, and felt more regrets than I care to claim.  That is the truth I rely upon to craft the creative element in this historical narrative.

I think all biography and history  possess an element of the unknown.  Whether the history is filtered through professional scholars such as Robert Remini, Doris Kearns Goodwin, or Miss Nobody Gail in her Idaho cabin, we are analyzing viable evidence to apply shape and logic to past lives.

Did Helen meet Sophie Tucker.  Yes.  She told us in a letter.  What did she say to her?  How did she act around her?  I ask myself what would I have said as an American to another famous American performing in London?  That’s the creative portion of this non-fiction format.

All things considered, creative non-fiction is an exciting new canvas for writing.  I feel like a kid in a candy store each time I turn over another photo or letter.

Have Book Will Travel

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The book’s progress is coming along.  At this writing, we are looking at the end of March for publication.  Cross your fingers.  There are details still dangling such as a book cover, interior design, inserting pictures and printing hard copies.  I’m not sure about Kindle or Amazon ebooks, but my publisher seems to think those options are do-able.

Marketing seems to be the real work.  Any of you that have published in the past are most likely aware of the immensity of the task.  I would love to hear from readers of any venue, mom and pop bookstores, reading groups, service groups, or any organization that would enjoy a book talk.  I am open to suggestions and compiling a list of likely outlets.

I live near Boise and can drive to most locations in the Pacific Northwest.  For other locations some planning would be necessary, and books shipped ahead.

I believe in River of January.  The story did not fall into my lap by accident and I have nothing but respectful awe for my protagonists, Helen and Chum.  Their story deserves to be told.  It must be told.  They did things in their lives I’m not sure can be repeated today.  In the earliest days of show business and aviation one needed heart and guts, not a masters degree.  Added to the tale is the compelling story of America during 20th century, a hundred years of growth, change and world leadership.

I thank you for sticking to the blog all these months, and the kind support you have extended.

This writer is open to (nice) suggestions.

The Extraordinary

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It is very easy to look out on a classroom and see average kids, gridded in average desks.  The first day of school felt as if I was corralling colts to lock up in a pen.  Students were all the same–feisty, noisy, exuberant, in need of order and compliance.  That was the initial view from the front of the room.

Yet, over the next days, weeks and months their little eggs cracked, and conformity ceased.  Each individual emerged through comments, reactions, and casual conversation.  In the place of the “American Teenager,” sprouted pretty cool people.  Through the course of many years I became acquainted with nationally ranked athletes, cancer survivors, opera singers, bowling proteges, dancers, and kids who’d been cast in feature films.  From generic outward appearances sprang unique and captivating individuals.

What separates the ordinary from the singular?  In reality is it a shortsightedness I placed upon myself at the start of the year?  I saw rows and columns instead of the garden blooming before me.  It fell upon the kids to show me who they were, whether in outright admission or inadvertent comments.  Do we all suffer from blind first impressions?

I came to understand that my two major characters in River of January worked hard to rise from the ordinary.

For Chum, his progress was the product of driven, conscientious mastery.  He flew so often, so much, that life on the ground wasn’t nearly as satisfying!  In Helen’s case she not only adored dance and studied hard, but had her mother at her side pushing from childhood.

There were reverses in their efforts.  Chum’s father refused to see the boy’s uniqueness, refused to recognize the son was meant for something more than steering a plow.  Helen’s willful mother was a source of such external pressure it spilled over into her life off the stage.

Both figures reached enormous heights in their respective pursuits.  Chum’s air race proved to the aviation world that he had indeed arrived, and Helen’s professional career took her across three continents.

The central reason I wrote this book was to share two exceptionally eventful lives.  Sifting through the volumes and volumes of their records it became clear these were no ordinary people.  Helen and Chum were unusually accomplished .  The better I came to know them through the things they left behind, the more impressed I became.  These two deserve to be remembered.  They raised the bar of living life to extraordinary levels.

And I don’t want them to be forgotten.