Street SpiritJ U S T I C E N E W S & H O M E L E S S B L U E S I N T H E B A Y A R E A

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by Randy Shaw

Ted Gullicksen, leader of the SanFrancisco Tenants Union and a keyfigure in the city’s tenant move-

ment since 1992, died unexpectedly onOctober 13. He was 61. Having spokenwith Ted and exchanged emails only afew days before his unexpected death, Iknow I speak for everyone in saying thathis death comes as an absolute shock. Hedied decades before his time.

I began working with Ted Gullicksenin 1992 on the Prop H campaign, whichcut annual rent increases by more thanhalf. For the next decade I spoke with Tedvirtually every work day, often multipletimes. Ted transformed the SF TenantsUnion from a group that had never met itspotential into San Francisco’s most effec-tive tenant political advocacy group.

Ted worked tirelessly for the tenantcause. He did the work of three people,which is why we all used to say he wasirreplaceable.

Ted loved San Francisco. That’s why he

fought so hard to keep its economic diversi-ty. Ted’s fondness for his adopted home-town (he grew up in Massachusetts) wasevident when he went from being a RedSox fanatic to rooting for the Giants. Buthis thick Boston accent never disappeared.

TED’S SPECIAL POWER

Ted Gullicksen never sacrificed princi-ple for money. This was the true source ofhis special power. Since he could not bepersuaded to act against tenants’ interestsfor money, power, access or other offer-ings, he had an independence thatincreased his clout.

Ted was also a very highly skilleddesigner of campaign literature. I high-light this among his many skills becausefew realize the significance of his talent.No other tenant group leader over the pasttwo decades has had anywhere near Ted’slevel of skill in designing the literaturethat told the tenant story to voters.

And realize: Ted never got paid a dimefor designing campaign literature, eventhough consultants routinely get paid tens

of thousands of dollars for doing so. AndTed never asked for a dime, either forhimself or the Tenants Union.

Ted saved the tenant movement tens ofthousands of dollars in campaign fees eachelection, boosting its electoral power. Or,more accurately, he enabled tenants to pro-duce effective mailers and slate cards theyotherwise could not afford.

And considering how much TedGullicksen loved election campaigns, rarewas the even-year election cycle when hiscampaign lit skills were not put to use.

Ted never wanted an election cycle to

pass without putting a tenant measure onthe ballot. He shared my skepticism of theBoard of Supervisors passing strong pro-tenant legislation, and I felt fortunate tobe working with someone who recognizedthe importance of winning tenant gains atthe ballot.

After tenant groups won their first SanFrancisco ballot measure with Prop H in1992, Ted went after the third rail of rentcontrol in 1994: the exemption of owner-occupied buildings of four units or less.

The Death of S. F. TenantHero Ted GullicksenWe often hear of people being described as “heroes” aftertheir death. Ted Gullicksen was a true hero and he will beremembered as such.

by Terry Messman

“Looked around all day for a job,and I looked almost every place.It’s hard to come home and find hungeron your children’s face.”

— Juke Boy Bonner

Those heartrending words are notmerely song lyrics. They are thereal-life testimony of a bluesman

— the single father of three young chil-dren — who is singing his sorrow aboutwhat it feels like to come home from afruitless search for work and see hungerand deprivation on the faces of the chil-dren he loves above all else.

The verses composed by Weldon “JukeBoy” Bonner, a gifted poet and blues musi-cian who grew up as a sharecropper inTexas and lived in poverty in Houston formost of his adult life, provide an importantclue into the mystery of why so many bluesartists sing with such passion about poverty,injustice and homelessness.

Many of the finest blues musicians inhistory grew up in poverty — and some ofthem died still poor. Especially in the firstfew decades of the blues, many great

artists made very little money despitetheir prodigious talent, and were forced totake menial jobs to make ends meet. Yet,that sometimes gave them the insight tocreate highly meaningful songs aboutlives broken down by economic hard-ships, hunger, evictions, and despair.

We can get a glimpse into this hiddendimension of the blues by taking a closerlook at the lives and music of two brilliantTexas musicians: Weldon “Juke Boy”Bonner and Blind Willie Johnson.

THE GHETTO POET

Although almost forgotten today evenin blues circles, Juke Boy Bonner was aremarkable poet and a gifted blues gui-tarist and singer. He sometimes performedas a one-man band, singing his poeticsongs while accompanying himself onguitar, harmonica and percussion.

Some of Bonner’s lyrics are poetry inthe true sense. Even when he is neardespair, his songs are beautiful and uplift-ing in the way they speak to the humancondition. His song, “It Don’t Take TooMuch,” offers a melancholy account of abeautiful loser, a man with a heart full of

soul, crushed by the weight of the world.“It don’t take too much to make you think you were born to lose.You got to keep on pushing at that mountain, and it never seems to move.”The two sides of Bonner’s identity as an

artist are expressed by the titles of two of

his finest records, produced by ChrisStrachwitz on Arhoolie. His dark-blue,despairing side is captured by “Life GaveMe a Dirty Deal,” and his identity as a poetfrom the poor side of town is expressed as“Juke Boy Bonner — Ghetto Poet.”

Ted Gullicksen and Sister Bernie Galvin at a Homes Not Jails housing occupation.

See Ted Gullicksen Dies page 5

Dark Was the Night,Cold Was the GroundThe Blues and Social Justice, Part 2

Juke Boy Bonner made “Ghetto Poet,” a great blues record on Arhoolie Records.

See Dark Was the Night page 6

November 2014ST R E E T SP I R I T2

by Lydia Gans

Availability of housing for peo-ple with low incomes isextremely limited and evenmore so for seniors and the

disabled. They are lucky when they findhousing — any kind of housing — andusually only after a long wait. They areparticularly fortunate if they are able tolive in a pleasant setting and convenientBerkeley location.

Redwood Gardens, located at 2951Derby Street in Berkeley, is a complex ofbuildings with 169 apartments, gardensand community facilities for seniors andpeople with disabilities. It is subsidized bythe U.S. Department of Housing andUrban Development (HUD). And there isan AC Transit bus stop right at theentrance.

Redwood Gardens was established as aco-op 28 years ago by CooperativeServices Inc (CSI). Currently it is man-aged by CSI Support and Development,which operates a number of co-ops inCalifornia. Redwood Gardens is the onlydevelopment that now is not a co-op.(There is some history behind the changewhich is not necessary to go into here.)

The CSI Support and Developmentwebsite outlines the principles of coopera-tives. “Living in a co-op means living in abuilding that is controlled by the residentmembers. The resident members vote onall major operating decisions, includingwriting the annual budget.... Becomingpart of a CSI co-op allows you to enjoythe benefits of apartment living whileretaining control of your environment.”

Although this ideal existed in RedwoodGardens in the past, it is far from the waythings are now. The residents have no con-trol over management decisions and evenopportunities for expressing their con-cerns, and having those concerns heard,are being denied. And there are some veryserious concerns.

Residents are afraid that much of whatthe project’s management has been doing,and its plans for the future, will have neg-ative impacts on the quality of their lives.

The residents have been gettingincreasingly upset with the management.Complaints, questions and requests areoften simply ignored. CSI is planning todo major renovations, and they havealready begun making changes while notaccepting any input from the residents.

An attempt to block the conversion ofa pleasant sun room next to residents’apartments into a laundry was ignored bymanagement, and construction of thelaundry is proceeding. Management hastaken over the community room for theconstruction workers. They are makingunwanted changes in the garden and othercommunity spaces.

In the words of Gary Hicks, co-chairwith Eleanor Walden of the Residents’Council, “There is increasing enmitybetween the residents and management.This is much worse than all the otherissues.”

Tenant Mary Berg wrote a letter toproperty manager Mary Kirk expressingher objection to a number of manage-

ment’s actions and ending with, “I havealways considered Redwood Gardens tobe ‘top of the line’ in senior housing ...but with CSI’s management it now hasfallen to near the bottom, because CSI(apparently) refuses to consult with theresidents and disregards the expressedwishes of the residents.”

She never received a reply.Arlene Merryman has lived at

Redwood Gardens for 21 years. “I’m real-ly upset,” she says. Her voice is shakingas she declares, “All of what’s happeningaround here makes me so angry I canhardly talk.”

Another resident, afraid of reprisal ifher name is made public, is concernedabout the lack of communication betweenresidents and management. “I moved herea year ago, gave up my Section 8. So thisis where I have to live for the rest of mylife. I’ve been happy living in Berkeleybeing here at Redwood Gardens untilrecently with all that (has) happened.”

With a zero-interest loan from HUD,CSI is planning to carry out major renova-tions. The process will be extremelystressful for many residents. The manage-ment or Redwood Gardens explained thatthey will renovate one apartment at atime, spending just one day on each unit.They expect to make major changes,remodeling kitchens and bathrooms, cabi-nets and shelves, possibly floors, etc. -completing it all in one working day.

And the residents must move theirbelongings out and store them temporarily(it’s not clear where) for the day. Therewas no discussion held about the matter.A resident described how it all wentdown.

“Each person had a 15-minute inter-view. During that, they gave each of us apiece of green paper with all the details onit about what’s going to happen. One of

the things that is particularly disturbing isthat we have to provide for our own helpto pack. We either have to pay $100 forlabor that they would identify or we haveto have friends to help.”

Vi McFall was on the waiting list forquite a few years before she was able toget in over four years ago. She is an artistand some of her paintings are hanging inthe halls of the complex. (There are anumber of artists among the residents dis-playing some exciting works in the halls.)

“I was happy here till a year ago,” shesays. “But it seems like the whole vibe ofthe place has changed.” Pointing to all herartwork and supplies, McFall says she’svery worried about packing it all and stor-ing it out of the way during the renova-tion. She’s sure there is no way she couldmange it all by herself.

The management plans to begin theprocess in November. Taking into accountweekends and holidays, completing thework on 169 units will take a very longtime. Doing the math, it works out toalmost eight months. For two-thirds of theyear the residents will be living with thestress of not knowing exactly when theirturn will come and having to cope withthe state of confusion all around them.

Peni Hall has been living in RedwoodGardens since the co-op was first orga-nized 28 years ago. She describes the resi-dents. With a population of close to 200people it is not surprising to find a diver-sity of opinions and attitudes among them.There are some people who live their livespaying no attention or simply acceptingwhat is happening.

“Some people are intimidated and areafraid to speak out,” Hall said. “Some arecalling HUD, some calling an attorney,some talking with other media — reach-ing out trying to get help.”

Also, there is a segment of Chinese

residents who have limited English andthere is no interpreter among them. Butfor everyone, the threat of eviction andbecoming homeless for incurring the dis-approval of management always hangsover their heads. Being seniors or disabledindividuals with limited incomes, alterna-tive housing options are extremely scarce.

Eleanor Walden is one of the peoplewho has been reaching out. She expressesher outrage. “We give up our rights ashuman beings by living in a place thatwill not consult with us, that does not rep-resent us in any way,” she said. “It’sdemeaning and disrespectful.”

Walden goes back to the days of thecivil rights and anti-war movements.“There comes a time,” she begins to quoteMario Savio.

When residents decided to sit in thesun room to protest the managementreplacing it with a laundry, she calledtheir action a sit-in and got the attentionof the media. “Now my strategy is to goto our representatives” she says, “to inun-date the people who are supposed to rep-resent us.”

Walden points out that it’s not just“asking for management to be morerespectful.... This is greater than RedwoodGardens in little Berkeley, California.”

What is happening here is happening inpublic housing projects all over the coun-try. And there is a lesson.

“I’ve been saying the seniors are thenext civil rights movement because we arethe largest growing segment of society,”Walden said. “We’re the baby boomers.And so housing for seniors, especially ifit’s guaranteed by the federal government,is a good ‘investment.’ It’s not done forany humanitarian reasons. It’s a monetarycash cow.”

Seniors and Disabled Tenants Struggle forFair Treatment at Berkeley’s Redwood Gardens

The main entrance to Redwood Gardens, a housing complex for seniors located on Derby Street in Berkeley. Lydia Gans photo

“We give up our rights as human beings by living in a place that will not con-sult with us, that does not represent us in any way,” she said. “It’s demeaningand disrespectful.” — Eleanor Walden, Redwood Gardens Residents’ Council

“There is increasing enmitybetween the residents andmanagement. This ismuch worse than all theother issues.”

— Gary Hicks, Residents’ Council

November 2014 ST R E E T SP I R I T 3

DDoonnaattee oorr SSuubbssccrriibbee ttoo SSttrreeeett SSppiirriitt!!Street Spirit is published by the American Friends Service Committee (AFSC). Homeless vendors receive 50 papers a day, earnincome and find a job providing a positive alternative to panhandling, and educate the community about social justice issues. Pleasedonate or subscribe to Street Spirit ! Help us remain an independent voice for justice!

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November 2013

by Steve Pleich

Idiscussed the need for a CitizensPolice Review Board to provide avoice for people experiencing home-

lessness in Santa Cruz in my article,“Civilian Police Review Could HelpHomeless People” [see the May 2014issue of Street Spirit].

Although I still believe that a policereview board would be an effective tool incombating the criminalization of homeless-ness in Santa Cruz, I believe that the eventspresently unfolding call for a shift in strate-gy from civic action to court action.

Santa Cruz Municipal Code Section13.08.100 (as amended) is the most recentiteration of retrogressive lawmakingaimed at our homeless community. It ispresently making its way through the CityCouncil approval process.

The new law is an extension of an ordi-nance approved last June which providedfor the issuance of 24-hour “stay away”orders to people who posed somearguable “public health or safety concern”within the city’s parks and open spaces.

The proposed amendment, however,goes much further and raises serious con-cerns about the constitutionally guaran-teed right to peaceably assemble in tradi-tional public spaces, the right to dueprocess of law and the collective right ofpeople experiencing homelessness to sim-ply exist.

As passed by the City Council onOctober 14, this amended ordinancewould permit Santa Cruz Police Officersand City Park Rangers to issue “stay way”orders to “habitual” offenders which willeffectively prohibit assembly or evenphysical presence in designated publicspaces for up to a year.

Leaving aside for the moment the factthat this ordinance as amended targets thepoor, people of color and the unemployedalmost exclusively, the practical reality isthat this legislative fiat conjured up by thecouncil is nothing more than a not so thin-ly veiled extension of a policy to driveundesirables, i.e., people experiencinghomelessness, out of our community.

Even more troubling than the broad dis-cretionary power this ordinance cedes tolaw enforcement is the fact that a violationof an Order of Court as provided by thisordinance may be prosecuted as a misde-meanor and could result in a jail term of upto one year and/or a substantial fine.

Robert Norse, a longtime homelessadvocate and founder of HUFF (HomelessUnited for Friendship and Freedom), saidthe ordinance enables law enforcementofficials to banish homeless people frompublic places, even when they have neverbeen found guilty of any crime.

“Since the original 13.08.100 was

passed in 2013,” Norse said, “manyhomeless people have been given one-daystay-aways along with their smoking,camping, or ‘park closed’ citations. Thisnew law is designed to punish andexclude homeless people without the needto go to court and actually prove a crime.”

Becky Johnson, another foundingmember of HUFF, provided some histori-cal perspective. “The City of Santa Cruzhas been progressively criminalizinghomelessness for decades, but this newordinance raises that policy to an entirelynew level,” Johnson said.

Here is where the need for a real dis-cussion about new strategies to fight thiselevated offensive against our homelesscommunity begins in earnest.

It is being argued by some that publiceducation and outreach may be the mosteffective tool to bring pressure to bear onthe Santa Cruz City Council to reconsiderthe adoption of this wholly punitive ordi-nance. It has been suggested that public“speak outs” and petitions may also beeffective tools.

But while these tactics may be nobleefforts in their own right, it is my opinionthat the most effective tactic to bringdown this latest attack on the freedom ofspeech and freedom of assembly in ourcity is litigation — in common parlance, alawsuit. And while I respect diversity oftactics, history has shown that litigation,even ultimately unsuccessful, can be apowerful tool in the fight against oppres-sion and the targeted persecution ofhomeless residents.

Linda Lemaster, a founding member ofHousing Now and herself a defendant inthe Peace Camp 2010 homeless rightscase, illustrates the point. “The battlesfought in the courts of law are as impor-tant as the ones we wage in the court ofpublic opinion.” Lemaster said. “And theyare all the more powerful for the publicstage they are played out on.”

And here is something else to consider.The courts may do what the current CityCouncil will not: they can simply “presspause.” By this, I mean that a well-craftedargument before a fair and impartial courtmay well result in the issuance of a pre-liminary order “enjoining” enforcement ofthis ordinance until all the legal and con-stitutional concerns have been fully andproperly addressed.

To cite just one example, the above-mentioned ordinance as drafted creates ahigh risk of “erroneous deprivation ofrights” in that (1) the orders will be issuedbased on vague and overbroad protocols;(2) there is no clear or stated procedure tocontest the issuance of any such orderand; (3) individuals will have no mean-ingful access to due process of law before

they are judged to be in violation. Even the casual observer must concede

that the law as presently amended is over-broad and poorly as well as hastily drafted.The council seems unwilling to considerthe larger consequences of this law; a courtof competent jurisdiction may well be.

While not committing to file a courtaction at this time, the local ACLU never-theless issued a strong statement in oppo-sition to the proposed ordinance.

“The Santa Cruz Chapter of theAmerican Civil Liberties Union isshocked that the City Council is consider-ing a resolution of this problem thatinvolves banning individuals from a parkor parks in general, for as long as a year,without any due process or procedure fora fair hearing in front of an impartialjudge as to whether they actually commit-ted the acts with which they are beingcharged or whether the punishment isappropriate for whatever transgression(s)they are cited for committing. This pro-posal is Constitutionally vague, lacks ade-quate due process protections, and is ripefor abuse. We sympathize with your needto address problem behavior ... but weseriously hope you will find a differentapproach to addressing it.”

Many will say, and perhaps rightly,that the courts are poor places for the pro-nouncement of public policy. I say thatcourts are not merely constituted to prose-cute the guilty but are more properlyemployed to protect the innocent or, inthis case, the disenfranchised and disem-powered.

But like anything else, it is not the sys-tem that determines our rights; it is howwe use that system. I believe that we canuse it to our advantage. Fundamental dueprocess requires notice AND opportunityto be heard. Among its many flaws, theproposed “stay away” ordinance providesno procedure or process by which anycited individual can be heard about thefacts or circumstances of his or heralleged violation.

It is time for our local courts to weigh inand it is our responsibility to place theseissues before the court on behalf of both ourhomeless community and ourselves.

It is a time-honored maxim of law that“justice delayed is justice denied.” In my

view, justice for our homeless communityhas been delayed much too long and wecan lno onger allow it to be denied.

Steve Pleich is the director of theHomeless Persons Legal Assistance Project.

Santa Cruz’s ‘Stay Away’Law Banishes the HomelessA new stay-away law in Santa Cruz targets the poor, peo-ple of color and the unemployed almost exclusively. It is anot so thinly veiled effort to drive undesirables — i.e., peo-ple experiencing homelessness — out of our community.

A new stay-away law can prohibit homeless people from parks and public spaces.

Street SpiritStreet Spirit is published by AmericanFriends Service Committee. The ven-dor program is run by J.C. Orton.

Editor, Layout: Terry MessmanWeb designer: Jesse Clarke

Contributors: Arhoolie Records, ClaireJ. Baker, Janny Castillo, R. Crumb,Ellen Danchik, Evicence Records, LydiaGans, Judy Joy Jones, Dong Lin, StevePleich, Randy Shaw, Marilyn Wallner

All works copyrighted by the authors.The views expressed in Street Spirit arti-cles are those of the individual authors,not necessarily those of the AFSC.

Street Spirit welcomes submissions ofarticles, artwork, poems and photos.

Contact: Terry MessmanStreet Spirit, 65 Ninth Street,San Francisco, CA 94103E-mail: spirit@afsc.orgWeb: http://www.thestreetspirit.org

Contact Street SpiritVendor Coordinator

The Street Spirit vendor program ismanaged by J.C. Orton. More than 150homeless vendors sell Street Spirit inBerkeley and Oakland. Please buyStreet Spirit only from badged vendors.

If you have questions about the ven-dor program, please e-mail J.C. Orton atnoscw@sbcglobal.net or call his cellphone at (510) 684-1892. His mailingaddress is J.C. Orton, P.O. Box 13468,Berkeley, CA 94712-4468.

The welcome sign at San Lorenzo Parkseems ironic in light of the stay-awayordinance aimed at homeless people.

November 2014ST R E E T SP I R I T4

Honor the Warrior by Marilyn Wallner

Thank you for your service

and your arm

your leg

both legs

your nightmares

your marriage

your life.

Shrinesby Marilyn Wallner

These poles with ghost bikestrussed to them —piles of teddy bears, cards candles with the Virgin's image —flower offeringslooking like brides' bouquets—now desiccated.The bouquet the girls' bike rider will never catch. I know about some of them. That girl whose bike's now spray painted white was hit by a drunk driver as she rode out of the university gate. She had the right-of-way, cold comfort now. That was on the late news. And the two girls—graduating high school seniors, in the spiffy new convertible—they were hit by a truck after they threw eggs at the driver at 4 a.m."They were only having fun,"one of the mothers said. Their pole stayed festive, gay like a Mardi Gras float for over two years before it was stripped clean. Someone from the county no doubt.

Street Meditationby Claire J. Baker

We live on a planetthat spins beyondour griefs & joys,hunger, poverty & war.

Our weight can't movethe earth & we don't feelit tipped & turning.

The earthfrom city streetso far & yet so near,hard under our feet.

The Vendor by Marilyn Wallner

He made me thinkof those sad men who sat on street corners during the Great Depressionwith boxes of apples: 5 cents a piece scratched on a small card, or pencils in a cup: 1 for a cent. You've seen the pictures. This man was selling strawberries in neat little square cartons: 2 for $1. It was pouring rain and his duck-billed cap sagged giving old comfort. He was dark-skinned sturdy — Mexican perhaps.Not like the pale, scrawnydepression guys though just as honorable. I could not stop then and hoped he'd persevere until I could.

When I drove to his corner later, he was holding an umbrella made merry with Disney characters. I bought some berries. He smiled and said "Thank you." I said "Welcome to America."

CHOOSE AIR?by Claire J. Baker

To avoid life's hurtssometimes we choosesimply to be air.

But nothing's that simple:ask air what it's liketo whip into tornados;

ask air how it feelsto bear scorching heatfrom the sun.

Life's complicated.The challenge is: howhuman can we become

and still survive the process?

DOORSby Claire J. Baker

"If the doors of my heart ever close,I am as good as dead."— Mary Oliver

Doors of existence, open wideand wider still. Never lock out life.Proceed toward the next unknown;face whatever balm or galland all the in-betweens.We are made for such encounters.

The next world will return usto the grace we were born with.But we have not yet reachedthat full-circle place.

Fellow traveler, if you helpclear my path and I your path,we can thank each other.If not, still we can believeor come to knowthat expansivenesshelps spirit flowers thrive.They sweeten the air.

Open wide, doors.And flowers, grow!

FROM AN ELDERLYSTREET COUPLEby Claire J. Baker

Long ago we were Springin Vivaldi's Four Seasons.Now we are Autumn

falling hard towardWinter's cold strains.We lag well behind

the processionalyet we remainwithin its music.

LOVE FALLS APARTON THE STREETSby Claire J. Baker

Why do you leave without me?I never dreamed you would go.I know this life's not toast with briebut why leave now? What about me,our plan that someday we'd fleetogether where only the moon will know?It hurts that you're leaving without me,waving, waving as you go.

COLOR PHOTOby Claire J. Baker

A childin a devastatedgardenpicks up awar-ravaged peace rose,trickles of blooddried on the petals.

I Had A Dream ofSomeone Fallingby Ellen Danchik

I am wandering, wandering.Where will I go?What will I do?

I have only a cart.

I start falling and falling.God reaches outand before I hit bottomI fall into God’s outstretched hands.

Now I know where I will go,where I will go.

BLOOD SOAKEDTEARSby Judy Joy Jones

last nite homeless woman murdered on cold concrete streets

people walkin bypretending not to hearher piercing screams as she struggled to survive

her blood soaked tearsnow belong to you and i

god’s heart weepsbegging all to seethe poorest of the poor

last nite homeless womanmurdered on coldconcrete streets

may our hearts blaze with desireto dry the tearsof the poor we see

god’s smile will radiatefrom shore to shorewhen the criesof those that diedawaken usto helpingsouls in need

we are createdto love and be lovedtenderly caring for thepoorest of the pooruntil they areno more

amen Where Is “Somewhere?”by Claire J. Baker

Where can the homelessharmlessly park, botherno one, and get a decentnight's sleep — not ticketedor routed out?

I'm guessing: maybe undera century-old willowor oak at edge of town?

Maybe on a crowded streetin a ghetto wherenobody gives a spitabout anything —especially the homeless?

Maybe in a somewhere townthere's an empty, friendlyparking lot — SOMEWHERE?!

Separate But Unequalby Judy Joy Jones

I remember as a child seeing two restroomsfor people ofdifferent colors

and then I knew why there are “art museums”and “women’s art museums”

it was onlyin the ‘90sfemale painterswere “allowed”in college arthistory books

let’s seeseparate art museums for women and menand female paintersdenied a place in textbooks

so I started asking people around the world“Would you please name femalepainters throughout history?"and most could name noneor perhaps one at the mostthere have been millions

and yes there are femalesin art museumshanging on walls — nude

and I wondered why I was strugglingas a female painter?

An elderly woman searches for her next meal. Dong Lin photo, One American Reality

November 2014 ST R E E T SP I R I T 5

by Randy Shaw

My tribute to the late TedGullicksen [see “San FranciscoTenant Hero Ted Gullicksen,”

on page one] focused on his extraordinarycontributions to San Francisco tenants.But his impact was even broader.

As Sam Dodge pointed out at the SanFrancisco Tenants Union gatheringrecently, Ted brought activists from anar-chist and other non-election-orientedbackgrounds into the world of grassrootspolitics. He achieved this because he wasthat rare activist who had one foot in bothworlds. Ted could spend one day lobbyingsupervisors over legislation, and the nextoccupying a vacant building as part of hisHomes Not Jails campaign.

HOMES NOT JAILS

Gullicksen launched Homes Not Jailsin 1992, the same year he got the TenantsUnion actively involved in the tenantmovement’s drive to cut annual rentincreases by more than half (Prop H). Sowhile Ted was working with us on thenuts and bolts of precinct walking, litera-ture distribution, and campaign literatureproduction, he was simultaneously work-ing with others to plan the takeover of avacant building at 90 Golden GateAvenue in the Tenderloin.

Ted was already media savvy enoughto know that Thanksgiving is an ideal dayto get coverage of a homeless-relatedissue. That’s the day when people are sup-posed to be thinking of the less fortunate,and it begins the “Season of Sharing” thatencourages people to be supportive of thepoor and unhoused.

Ted’s initial building occupations, donein conjunction with Food Not Bombs, com-bined his tenant activist focus. Homes NotJails occupied 250 Taylor Street, a long-

vacant apartment building that was sup-posed to have been renovated and reoccu-pied years earlier. The group squatted inbuildings that were to be demolished(despite having the ability to house people)or kept vacant by owner choice.

Among those who joined these occupa-tions was Sister Bernie Galvin ofReligious Witness With Homeless People.Now living in St. Charles, Missouri, SisterBernie recalled how Ted emailed her“during the week before Easter Sundaysaying that this Saturday he and severalSFTU members were going to illegallyoccupy a small apartment building in theMission from which several very poor,elderly people had recently been evicted.He asked if I would join them in this actof civil disobedience. I replied, Yes! Ted,I cannot think of a holy-er way to observethis most sacred time of the year than tojoin you in this struggle for justice.”

Sister Bernie felt that, “This man, TedGuillicksen, with such a generous and jus-tice-seeking heart and brilliant mind, canteach us ‘religious’ a thing or two aboutan essential element of what it means tobe holy, about truly living our faith.”

Ted was at much at home in the world ofbolt cutters and illegal squats as he was atCity Hall. And he showed others that thesetwo worlds were not exclusive. Squats andgrassroots election campaigns were bothtools in the activist’s handbook designed tofurther economic and social fairness.

UNITING S.F. PROGRESSIVES

Ted’s broader impact was also seen inhis uniting what I describe as “cultural”vs. “institutional” progressives in thecity’s tenants’ movement.

When I moved to San Francisco in 1979,I was struck by how much more conserva-tive the city’s tenant activists looked com-

pared to my prior experience in Berkeley.That was likely because San Francisco’stenants’ movement grew in strengththrough Catholic parishes, whose membersoften did not share the lifestyles or valuesof New Left activists of the 1960s and ‘70s.

As the city’s tenants’ movement throughthe 1980s became centered in tenant coun-seling organizations, it became more cultur-ally and institutionally mainstream. I felt bythe start of the 1990s that campaigns for anentity known as “tenants” had becomedivorced from larger economic justicestruggles. “Rent control” had become atechnocratic concept drained of the passionthat led to its enactment.

Ted always framed rent and evictionprotections as core social justice issues.He got the cultural and non-mainstreamprogressive community on board, expand-ing the tenants’ movement.

The tenants’ movement today, and thetenant activists I saw at the gathering forTed after his death, is much more cultural-ly and demographically diverse than themovement pre-Gullicksen. And that willnot change by his untimely death.

TENANTS POLITICAL PROGRAM

Ted Gullicksen also built the most pow-erful tenant political movement in SanFrancisco history. He institutionalized thewinning strategies from the Prop H cam-paign in 1992, and then took the TenantsUnion slate card to a whole other level.

Because so much of the tenants’ move-ment was led by 501 (c) (3) groups thatcan’t endorse candidates, prior to Ted, thetenants’ movement failed to maximize itspolitical power. Ted changed this.

Under Ted’s leadership, for over twodecades the Tenant Union candidateendorsements have been the gold seal ofapproval for the most pro-tenant candidates.A countercultural, left-wing Ted Gullicksenhad no problem making deals with politicalinsiders with whom the politically correctset would keep their distance.

Ted understood that the broader thereach of the TU slate card, the better fortenants. He would deal with nearly any-one if it advanced the tenant cause.

Ted may have devoted too much timeto election and legislative campaigns atthe expense of organizing a broadermovement. But amidst an ongoing hous-ing crisis, Ted understandably wanted topass every conceivable law to reduce dis-placement. His loss could mean fewer ten-ant electoral campaigns simply because heis not around to organize them.

Ted never sought glory or credit. Hewould likely feel sheepish over the incred-ible outpouring of support that his loss hastriggered. But all of us who worked withhim know that Ted’s recognition is richlydeserved.

Randy Shaw is Editor of Beyond Chronand director of the Tenderloin Housing Clinic.

Ted Gullicksen was an activist who worked both on elections and on housing squats.

The Broader Legacyof Ted Gullicksen Ted was as much at home in the world of bolt cutters andillegal squats as he was at City Hall. And he showed oth-ers that these two worlds were not exclusive.

Recent arrivals to the city may not beaware of this exemption, which removedthousands of long-term tenants from rentcontrol’s protections. In those days, realestate speculators would buy four-unitbuildings, do an owner move-in evictionof a single unit, and then decontrol theentire building within six months.

Few thought that the owner-occupancyexemption could be removed. The popu-larity of “Mom and Pop” landlords hadcreated the exemption in 1979, and mostassumed that voters would retain it.

I and other tenant activists werefocused on improving housing codeenforcement in 1993 and 1994, and wehad our own November 1994 campaign(Prop G) to deal with. So while tenantgroups backed Ted’s effort with whatbecame Prop I, it was primarily Ted andthe Tenant Union’s campaign.

Prop I made Ted a lot of enemies. Welearned during that campaign that some“progressives” were also small landlords.They didn’t appreciate Ted cutting intothe economic value of their properties bybringing them under rent control.

Ted didn’t care. He used to laugh whenI told him stories about progressiveactivists denouncing him. All he caredwas ensuring tenants in small buildingsgot rent and eviction protections.

Ted particularly focused on tenants insmall buildings. Whereas the former Old St.Mary’s Housing Committee (now HousingRights Committee of SF) and my organiza-tion, the Tenderloin Housing Clinic, had atenant base in larger buildings, the SFTUand former St. Peter’s Housing Committee(now Causa Justa) primarily worked withtenants living in buildings with four to sixunits or less. So it was understandable thatTed would seek a ballot measure to bringthem the same rent control and evictionprotections of other tenants.

The 1994 election had the most pro-gressive voter turnout in San Franciscohistory. It also occurred in the eighth con-secutive year of a real estate downturn inthe city. As a result, the opposition toProp I spent barely over $100,000. I knowthat seems impossible, but the combina-tion of real estate downturn and landlordoverconfidence saw surprisingly littlemoney come in against Prop I.

To the surprise of everyone but Ted,Prop I won. And it represented the largestexpansion of rent control since the origi-nal ordinance passed in 1979.

STRENGTHENING RENT CONTROL

I worked on so many campaigns withTed in the decade after the Prop I victorythat I lost count. All of our campaigns fortenants prevailed. A landlord effort toreverse Prop I with their “Take Back OurHomes” initiative was soundly defeated.Tenants also defeated a statewide “emi-

nent domain” measure that would haverepealed rent control.

Ted and I also worked to defeat a deYoung Museum bond because MayorBrown allowed the full cost of theincreased taxes to be passed through totenants. I believe bond proponents spent$1 million to our $10,000.

During Brown’s first term, Ted and I ledefforts to win sweeping legislation for ten-ants. We got legislation enacted that wouldhave stopped Ellis Act evictions, only tohave the courts wrongly throw it out.

Ted played a crucial role in helpingpro-tenant supervisor candidates sweepthe 2000 return to district elections.Tenant Union endorsements proved thedividing line among candidates, and ten-ants could follow the TU slate card toensure they voted pro-tenant.

The new Board created opportunities forstrengthening rent control, which Ted pur-sued. He helped us in our campaign to saverent-controlled housing at Trinity Plaza,and did what he could to stop the demoli-tion of sound housing at Parkmerced.

A TRUE HERO

We often hear of people beingdescribed as “heroes” after their death.Ted Gullicksen was a true hero and hewill be remembered as such.

In my twenty-plus years working withTed, we never had an argument. We neverhad bad feelings after a conversation. Ourpolicy differences were minor. Ted was

always someone who looked to work withpeople, not alienate them. That’s a side ofTed many people don’t know. Ted wasthe easiest person in the world to getalong with, and one never heard a criticalword about him from fellow activists.

Ted was a great person to work with.Let’s not lose this fact amidst his manyaccomplishments.

Ted and I spent less time workingtogether after 2007 when I shifted mychief focus from citywide tenant electioncampaigns to the Tenderloin and otherissues. But we continued to discuss strate-gies to combat Ellis evictions and workedclosely on the Airbnb legislative cam-paign. We spoke the week before he diedabout how to maximize the value of theremaining campaign literature for thisyear’s November 4 election.

Many are asking where the SFTU goesfrom here. Bobby Coleman of the SFTUBoard addressed that issue, and expressedconfidence that Ted had laid the founda-tion for the group’s stability and growth.

Sara Shortt spoke for all of us inexpressing her profound shock that some-one we all spoke to and met with regular-ly, who was so central to the movement,could suddenly be taken from us. A fullmemorial service will be scheduled andpublicly announced.

Like Joe Hill, Ted Gullicksen wouldurge everyone not to mourn, but to orga-nize.

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In “It Don’t Take Too Much,” Bonnerreveals how the blues can strike on aneconomic level — when you can’t find ajob — and simultaneously strike at anemotional level — when your wife leavesyou. The inequities of a world that’s“doing you wrong” cause the downcastblues by breaking up your home.

“It don’t take too much to make you Feel the world is doing you wrong,Especially when you can’t find no job,You can’t take care of your wife and your home.”This poet laureate of the blues, as Brett

Bonner (no relation) of Living Blues mag-azine once described Juke Boy, was alsoone of the strongest political voices in theblues, speaking out against the economicinequality of U.S. society. In describinghis own tough existence in Houston’spoor neighborhoods, this lone bluesmanalso became the voice for countless poorpeople who have found that the “upper-class people” don’t give a single, solitarydamn about the survival of the poor.

“It don’t take too muchAfter you gave all that you can give.Look like upper-class people don’t care How the lower class of people live.”In Living Blues magazine, Brett

Bonner described Juke Boy Bonner as oneof the most important poets in the blues.

He wrote, “If you had to choose a poetlaureate of the late ‘60s/early ‘70s bluesscene, you would be hard pressed to findsomeone more qualified than Juke BoyBonner. Bonner’s songs speak beautifullyand forcefully of the struggle of AfricanAmericans. While many blues songwrit-ers focus attention on themselves andtheir place in the world, Bonner’s songsdisplay a social consciousness thatstretched far beyond himself.”

After Bonner’s marriage at a youngage resulted in three children, his wifeunexpectedly left him, leaving him solelyresponsible for his children’s upbringing,a burden made heavier by his own poorhealth and economic struggles.

In the liner notes to Bonner’s album,“Life Gave Me a Dirty Deal,” ChrisStrachwitz, founder of Arhoolie Records,explained how the burden was also ablessing. “Perhaps the most unhappy peri-od in Weldon Bonner’s life was his mar-riage. His wife left him after giving himwhat he considers the greatest gift in hislife, his three children.... Weldon lavishedattention, education, responsibilities, andaffection on his family. They are all won-derful, lively, intelligent young people.”

Yet his years as a single parent werealso full of hardships. Even though Bonnerwas a genuine poet and a gifted musician,he often was unable to support his familywith his music at low-paying blues venues.

In “What Will I Tell the Children,” hesings the hard-working, low-paying, sin-gle-parent blues, returning home feelingempty inside after failing to find a job.

“You know it’s so hard when you’re trying to make it,you’re living from day to day.You go down and apply for a joband the people turn you away.What shall I tell my children, oh Lord,when I get home? Tell them, ‘Maybe tomorrow, maybe tomorrowall our troubles will be gone.’”

He sings the words “maybe tomorrow”so forlornly, as if he’s grasping at a slen-der thread of hope. What if tomorrowdoesn’t deliver on those hopes?

In another song on “Ghetto Poet,”Bonner sings, “All the lonely days justseem to fade away.” Then the days turninto endless years of broken dreams: “Allthe lonely years just seem to disappear.”

As we will see, Bonner was not onlyenduring economic deprivation, loneliness,the pressures of single fatherhood, and dis-illusionment that his brilliant music neverseemed to find a large audience, but wasalso enduring scary health issues.

Yet when a sensitive poet undergoesthat level of suffering, even his despairingwords can still be striking and memorable,as in his song, “It’s Enough.”

“Look like I’m waiting for a tomorrow that will never come,Seems days and days have passed, yet I never see the sun.It’s enough to make you wish you were never born.Sometimes I wonder where I get thepower and the strength to carry on.”

“I’M A BLUESMAN”“My father passed on when I was two years old,Didn’t leave me a thing but a whole lot of soul.You can see I’m a bluesman.”Those lonely and forsaken lines are

from Bonner’s self-revealing song, “I’m aBluesman.” Being a bluesman was at thevery heart of his identity, and this songreveals the major events of his life asreflected in the mirror of the blues.

Weldon Bonner was born on a farm nearBellville, Texas, where his father, ManuelBonner, was a sharecropper. His very firstyears seemed to foreshadow all the badluck that stalked him all his life. He wasborn in 1932 just as the rural economy wascollapsing during the Depression.

He was the youngest of nine childrenborn into a poor family, and just as hesang in “I’m a Bluesman,” his father diedwhen he was only two. Then, Bonner’smother died when he was only eight.

“My mother passed on when I was just about eight,I started learning I was growing up in a world of hate.That made me a bluesman.” In his 1975 book, The Legacy of the

Blues, the pioneering blues author andrecord producer Samuel Charters describedthe one-on-one correlation between JukeBoy Bonner’s life and his autobiographicalsong, “I’m a Bluesman.”

After losing both parents, Bonner wentto live with an older sister in Bellville.Instead of going to school, he was workingin the Texas cotton fields when he wasonly 13, just as he sang so movingly.

“I go to work in the fields when I was just thirteen.Didn’t get a chance to know what education means.”In 1963, at the age of 30, Bonner was

hospitalized for chronic ulcers and 45 per-cent of his stomach was removed. Duringhis long recovery, he began writing poetryand had countless poems published inForward Times, the African-Americannewspaper of Houston.

Bonner turned many of these poemsinto beautiful songs and became a finesinger, guitarist, and harmonica player.

His music was championed, first by MikeLeadbitter, a leading blues researcher andwriter for Blues Unlimited in England,and later by Chris Strachwitz, the founderof Arhoolie Records in El Cerrito, whoreleased his finest records. Yet for all thebrilliance of his artistry, Juke Boy Bonnerwould never become a star.

At the end of “I’m a Bluesman,” Bonnersings the desolate and downhearted wordsthat, in my mind, make him one of the mostimportant and prophetic voices of thehomeless condition in America. All thehard knocks he endured gave him theknowledge and sensitivity to capture thefrightening insecurity of life on the streets.

“When at night you don’t know where you’re going to sleep,or where you’ll get your next meal to eatThat makes you a bluesman, a bluesman.I want the world to know how come I’m a bluesman.”In “I’m in the Big City,” Bonner writes

of his disillusionment in moving from thehard, bare existence of a sharecropper’slife on a Texas cotton farm to Houston,only to find that poverty had followedhim to the big city.

“Here I am in the big cityAnd I’m just about to starve to death.”“I’m a Bluesman” appeared on “The

Sonet Blues Story: Juke Boy Bonner,” andhis other songs appeared on “Life Gave Mea Dirty Deal” and “Ghetto Poet.”Strachwitz produced all these intenselymoving records by a talented musician andpoet who otherwise might have lived anddied almost completely unknown.

A HERO OF THE BLUES

Although Bonner never became a bigstar, he was a voice of his people, a won-derful poet and a courageous bluesmanwho kept playing even after half of hisstomach was removed. He gave concertsand performed at blues festivals all overthe country and traveled to Europe withthe American Folk Blues Festival. Butsomehow, he never had a breakthroughmoment in his career.

The life-stories of great artists inAmerica are supposed to follow a rags-to-riches story arc. When a sensitive youngman is born into an impoverished family ofsharecroppers on a Texas farm just as theDepression ruins the economy, and thenloses both parents, we are primed to expectthat his years of hard work and brilliantartistry will be rewarded someday.

Yet, if the first chapters of Bonner’s

life were harsh and cruel, the last chapterwas outright heartbreaking.

Even though he had written and pub-lished hundreds of poems, and had record-ed blues albums of unquestionable worthand beauty, in Bonner’s last years he helddown “a dreadful minimum wage job” inHouston, as Strachwitz explained in thenotes to “Life Gave Me a Dirty Deal.”

“The last time I visited Juke Boy inHouston,” Strachwitz wrote, “he wasworking at a chicken processing plant,depressing work for anyone but especiallydemoralizing for a sensitive poet likeWeldon Bonner.” Strachwitz later wrotethat he would never forget the bad shapeJuke Boy was in while working that job.

Then, when he was only 46 years old,Bonner died on June 28, 1978, in “thesmall rented room where he lived” inHouston. The last verses of Bonner’soverpowering song, “It Don’t Take TooMuch” express the essential truth of thispoet’s lifelong struggle with the blues.

“It don’t take too much to make you think you was born to loseThat’s why I lay down worrying and I wake up with the blues.”Despite his lack of public recognition,

Juke Boy Bonner lived and died a greatpoet — and a hero of the blues. As I writethese words, I realize I am wearing a T-shirtwith an iconic portrait of Blind WillieJohnson by the artist R. Crumb and theblazing inscription: “Heroes of the Blues.”

For one forlorn moment, I find myselfwishing that Juke Boy Bonner had alsobeen consecrated as a hero of the blues,and that during his lifetime he hadenjoyed some of the success lavished onso many lesser musicians.

From past experience, I know wherethese wishes will soon lead. I’ll beginwishing for a world where the genuineblues artists like Juke Boy Bonner andBlind Willie Johnson are far more cele-brated than the Rolling Stones and LedZeppelin and all the others who havegrown rich while exploiting the blues.

As long as I’m wishing for the impos-sible, why not wish for eyesight for theblind? In fact, why not wish for eyesightfor Blind Willie Johnson?

Even though justice is too oftendelayed, it may still show up on someunexpected day. After all, one of thegreatest musicians in our nation’s history,Blind Willie Johnson, spent the last 17

J.B. Lenoir was one of the bravest political voices of his era. “Alabama Blues” and“Down in Mississippi,” his last two albums, have beautiful and outspoken songs ofdissent. Both records have been released as “Vietnam Blues” on Evidence Records.

Dark Was the Night,Cold Was the GroundDespite his lack of recognition, Juke Boy Bonner was a truepoet and a hero of the blues. He is also one of the mostprophetic voices of the homeless condition in America.

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years of his life in nearly total obscurity,playing his breathtaking music forstrangers on small-town street corners,and then died a lonely death. Yet now, hismusic sails among the stars.

BLIND WILLIE JOHNSON AND THE

MUSIC OF THE SPHERES

In the opening frames of “The Soul of aMan,” a film by director Wim Wenders inthe film series “Martin Scorsese Presentsthe Blues,” NASA technicians are seenloading a golden record on board theVoyager as it is about to blast off to explorethe outer reaches of our solar system andthen continue on into deep space.

The Voyager Golden Record carried the“Sounds of Earth” — the diverse lan-guages, music and natural sounds of surf,thunder, birds and whales. Carl Saganlikened it to launching a message in a bottleinto the “cosmic ocean.” The VoyagerGolden Record selected the music of Bach,Beethoven and Blind Willie Johnson tocarry on this voyage into the solar system,past Pluto and to the stars beyond.

It is amazing to contemplate this starrydestiny for Blind Willie’s music, sinceduring his life he seemed the most earth-bound of men. He was born into povertyin Texas, blinded as a very young child,and later died in obscurity.

Johnson lost his mother at an early age.He would later sing a deeply moving ren-dition of “Motherless children have a hardtime when the mother is gone.”

During his youth, Willie Johnsonwalked down many lonely roads in dark-ness. He would die in much the sameway, after sleeping on a soaked mattresswhen his house burned down.

Yet Johnson is now immortalized as oneof the most brilliant slide guitarists in the

history of gospel and blues music, and hishaunting rendition of “Dark Was the Night,Cold Was the Ground” is now soaring intospace. His music truly has become part ofthe “music of the spheres.”

Many musicians win gold records forreaching one million dollars in sales (orby later standards, 500,000 units). BlindWillie Johnson’s music is on the ultimategold record, shining among the stars.

Johnson was a stunning original.Samuel Charters wrote that no one duringhis time sounded like Blind WillieJohnson as a singer or guitarist. ButJohnson would soon influence everyoneelse. Musicians to this day are still devot-ing years of their lives in an attempt tofigure out his incredibly beautiful andcomplex slide guitar playing.

In the liner notes to “The CompleteBlind Willie Johnson” on Columbia,Charters wrote: “He was one of the mostbrilliant slide guitarists who ever record-ed, and he used the upper strings forhaunting melodic phrases that finished thelines he was singing in the text.”

SANDBLASTED VOCAL CORDS

Blind Willie Johnson didn’t sing theblues, however. Every song he recordedbetween the years of 1927 to 1930 was agospel song, yet his slide guitar playingsounded like the very essence of the blues,and he sang loud enough to wake the deadin a rasping growl that sounded like hisvocal cords had been sandblasted.

His beautifully expressive, yet deepand raw vocals remade gospel music so itsounded like the primal blues of theMississippi Delta, as if the harsh, gravel-voiced singing of Son House had mingledwith the intense, passionate vocals ofHowlin’ Wolf. Yet Blind Willie Johnsongrew up in rural Texas, not Mississippi,and his music preceded most of the blues

artists. Where did it come from?Many of the finest guitarists in the

world are in awe of Blind Willie Johnson.Some have spent half their lives trying toreplicate what he could do on a slide gui-tar. How did a blind young man whoplayed in small towns in an isolated areaof rural Texas become one of the mostmasterful guitarists of all?

Ry Cooder, a virtuoso slide guitaristhimself, described what Blind WillieJohnson’s playing meant to him. “Ofcourse, I’ve tried all my life — workedvery hard and every day of my life, practi-cally — to play in that style. He’s sogood. I mean, he’s just so good! Beyond aguitar player. I think the guy is one ofthese interplanetary world musicians.”

He’s exactly right about the “interplan-etary” part. Blind Willie Johnson’s perfor-mance of “Dark Was the Night, Cold Wasthe Ground,” an instrumental version of agospel song about the crucifixion ofJesus, was sent into space on the Voyageras “the human expression of loneliness.”

Sam Charters wrote that Blind WillieJohnson had created a “shattering mood”with this song. Its full title is “Dark wasthe night and cold was the ground, onwhich the Lord was laid.”

“What Willie did in the studio was tocreate this mood, this haunted response toChrist’s crucifixion,” Charters wrote,adding that Johnson created an “achingly”expressive melody with just his slide gui-tar. Instead of singing the words of thehymn, Johnson cast aside the lyrics andwent for pure emotion, humming alongwordlessly in a meditative mood.

Charters wrote, “It was a moment thatwas as moving as it was unforgettable. Itwas the only piece he played like this, andnothing else similar to it was ever record-ed. It remains one of the unique master-pieces of American music.”

Ry Cooder said that Johnson’s perfor-mance was “the most transcendent piecein all American music.”

Blind Willie Johnson’s entire life pre-pared him to have the emotional depthand sensitivity to create such a deeply feltresponse to the crucifixion of a Biblicalfigure who was born homeless.

MOTHERLESS CHILDREN HAVE A

HARD TIME

Johnson’s mother died when he was aninfant. One of his most moving songs wassung with all the depth and heartache that amotherless son could find deep within him-self. It is now a classic of American music.

His singing sends chills through mysoul. It is a darkly unsettling experience,yet his otherworldly voice offers purecompassion to the motherless and father-less children of the world. I lost my ownfather too early. And I love this song.

Children who have lost their parents ata very young age may be lost on somedeep level for a very long time. And theymay become lost in another sense as well— they may become homeless or spendtheir childhood days in poverty.

Every time I hear Blind Willie Johnsonsing the last verse of this song, imagesarise of all the motherless and fatherlesschildren who are homeless in modernAmerica, and all the throwaway kids whoare released from the foster care systemwith nowhere to go.

The most haunting image that arises isa picture of Willie Johnson himself, sight-less and motherless, trying to make hisway in the world by singing these wordson street corners to unseen strangers.

“Motherless children have a hard time when mother is dead, Lord.Motherless children have a hard time,Mother’s dead.They don’t have anywhere to go.Wandering around from door to door.Have a hard time.”His father sent this sightless, mother-

less youth out with a tin cup to sing onstreet corners in small towns in Texas.

It is amazing to contemplate such a starry destiny for BlindWillie Johnson’s music. He was born in poverty, blinded as ayoung child, and later died in obscurity. Yet his gospel musichas been sent into deep space on the Voyager and has nowbecome part of the “music of the spheres.”

The Voyager Golden Record was sent into space in 1977, carrying greetings in 60 lan-guages, sounds of nature and the music of Beethoven, Bach and Blind Willie Johnson.

This beautiful portrait of Blind Willie Johnson by renowned artist R. Crumb waspublished in R. Crumb’s Heroes of Blues, Jazz & Country, along with dozens of iconicportraits of musicians. Crumb’s art also appears on “Heroes of the Blues” T-shirts.

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Dark Was the Night, Cold Was the Ground

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Johnson recorded for only three years,from 1927 to 1930, yet during that timehe is said to have outsold Bessie Smith,the Empress of the Blues.

THE HOMELESS STRANGER

He sang hymns and gospel songs, yetas Charter wrote, these songs “have beenso completely changed in his hands thatthey become his own personal expression,building on the great Biblical figures.”Above all, Charters added, his songsreflected “the loneliness of the motherlesschild or the homeless stranger.”

One of my favorite songs of allexpresses the lonely life of the homelessstranger. Willie Johnson walked in dark-ness all his life and he must have knownmany lonesome days when all he metwere strangers who looked upon him as ablind beggar, a homeless stranger. Theyhad no way of knowing that they weremeeting one of the most remarkable musi-cians in American history.

But whether we have encountered ahomeless stranger, or a world-class musi-cian, Johnson’s song, “Everybody Oughtto Treat a Stranger Right,” is the voice ofthe conscience.

“Well, all of us down here are strangers,none of us have no home,Don’t never hurt, oh, your brother and cause him to live alone.Everybody ought to treat a stranger right long ways from home.”His song goes beyond a simple appeal

for compassion. With his spiritual vision,he reminds us that another Stranger oncewas born homeless, because there was noroom at the inn.

“Well, Christ came down a strangerHe didn’t have no home,Well, he was cradled in a mangerAnd oxen kept him warm.”This song is a reminder to a nation

which just officially reported a recordnumber of more than one million home-less children enrolled in the publicschools that the lives of every one ofthose homeless strangers are sacred.

DARK WAS THE NIGHT

Even though Blind Willie Johnson’srecords had been selling well, and wouldsoon become deeply influential to othermusicians, the Depression ended therecording careers of many great bluesartists, including Blind Willie. In 1930,Johnson recorded his last song. Yet, hekept playing music on the streets and inchurch gatherings in Beaumont, Texas, allthrough the 1930s and up until his deathon September 18, 1945.

After his death, his music would streakon its heroic journey towards the stars indeep space. But during his life, this mas-terful musician suffered the crucifixion ofpoverty. It must be said: Dark was thenight and cold was the ground on whichBlind Willie Johnson was laid.

In August 1945, the shack where helived with his wife Angeline burneddown. With nowhere else to go, they livedin the fire-gutted ruins of their home andslept on wet newspapers on top of theirsoaked mattress. Johnson soon died ofpneumonia or, alternately, malarial fever.

There are so many haunting deaths

among homeless people on the streets,premature deaths caused by untreated ill-nesses among extremely poor people withinadequate medical care. And there are somany haunting deaths in the blues.

One immediately thinks of the terribledeath of Robert Johnson, slowly and tor-turously dying in 1938 after being poi-soned, and Charley Patton dying on aMississippi plantation shortly aftersinging “Oh Death” at his last recordingsession for Vocalion in 1934.

Blind Lemon Jefferson died alone in asnowstorm on a wintry night in Chicagoin December 1929, and Bessie Smith diedin Clarksdale, Mississippi, in 1937 fol-lowing a deadly car accident while travel-ing on Highway 61 from Memphis intoClarksdale. Elmore James died from amassive heart attack in 1963 when he wasonly 45 and should have had many moreyears to play his brilliant slide guitar.

Sonny Boy Williamson II died in 1965,a short time after playing in a juke jointwith Robbie Robertson and the Hawks.During the set, Williamson was constantlyspitting what Robertson thought wastobacco juice into a can, until he finallyrealized that Sonny Boy actually had beenspitting his blood into the can all night,then returning to play harmonica.

Even in light of all these tragic deaths,there is something in the brilliant artistryand the forsaken death of Blind WillieJohnson that is deeply touching. He livedand died a genuine, gospel-drenched heroof the blues — not just when he wasrecording his immortal music, but in mymind, maybe even more during the 15years from 1930 to 1945 when the sight-less street musician continued to play tosmall numbers of strangers on obscurestreet corners.

HOW WE TREAT THE STRANGER

In remembering his death, an unwel-come thought arises: This is how we treatthe homeless stranger. We have created asociety where an unknown blind man isturned away from a hospital and dies in afire-gutted home, not just in Johnson’s erain rural Texas, but here and now, and inevery state of the union.

Even today, we scarcely notice when aslum hotel in the inner city burns to theground, or when homeless people dieyears before their time due to untreatedillnesses and exposure, or that the safetynet has been shredded so blind and dis-abled people are less able to survive.

Johnson sang, “Everybody Ought toTreat a Stranger Right,” to warn us thatthe messiah may appear in the anonymousguise of a nameless, faceless stranger, andthat the life of each unsheltered, needystranger has sacred worth.

Then, he demonstrated the full signifi-cance of those lyrics by dying the unno-ticed death of the unknown stranger, eventhough, in this case, he was one of thefinest musicians of all time.

T.S. Eliot’s poem, “The Rock,” echoeswith the same message about the stranger.

When the Stranger says: “What is the meaning of this city?Do you huddle close together because you love each other?”What will you answer? “We all dwell together to make money from each other?”

On his recording of “Everybody Oughtto Treat a Stranger Right,” Blind WillieJohnson asked us that same question, aquestion that will never go away.

LIFE IN THE OTHER AMERICA

When Michael Harrington discovereda land he called the “Other America” inthe early 1960s, he helped awaken thenation to the existence of a vast and large-ly unseen subcontinent of poverty in themidst of an affluent society. His influen-tial book, The Other America: Poverty inthe United States, warned that 25 percentof the people in this supposedly prosper-ous nation lived and died in poverty.

Published in 1962, The Other Americamade an impact on President JohnKennedy, and reputedly helped to sparkPresident Lyndon Johnson’s War onPoverty.

Harrington’s book may have been anearly warning signal about the disturbingextent of poverty, yet long before he cameon the scene, African-American bluesmusicians had been sounding even moreurgent warnings over and over for severaldecades. In part, that is because many bluesartists, along with their close friends andfamily members, were living in the OtherAmerica that Harrington only described.

Many blues musicians were able togive such powerful testimony about hardtimes, discrimination, hunger and home-lessness because they had grown up inrural poverty, or lived on the poor side oftown in the crowded tenements, crum-bling neighborhoods and neglected streetsof the Other America.

Many blues lyrics from the 1930s,1940s and 1950s sound today like highlyknowledgeable and up-to-the-minuteaccounts of the present-day economic dis-parity between the rich and the poor.

The stereotype is that history is writtenby the winners. Yet the unbroken testimo-ny of 90 years of blues lyrics amounts to acumulative history written by the verypeople thought to be marginalized andvoiceless. It adds up to a “minorityreport” on the state of the nation from thestreets of the Other America.

The history that can be traced in blueslyrics tells the story of how the commonpeople had the soul to survive a soul-crushing system. Along with a far-seeingawareness of economic and racial injus-

tice, many blues songs also express com-passion and empathy towards the poorand oppressed, especially in times whenthe government had ignored and aban-doned its hungry and homeless citizens.

HARD TIMES FOR FLOYD JONES

Floyd Jones, one of the finest singersand songwriters in Chicago’s postwarblues circles, composed and performedsome highly politicized blues, especiallyunique in the politically sluggish climate ofthe 1950s. His “Stockyard Blues” told thestory of workers on the picket line, and notonly sympathized with the union’s strugglefor better wages for those working inChicago’s stockyards, but also gave voiceto the desperation of those who would haveto pay higher prices for meat.

Floyd Jones was a gifted vocalist and hisdark, heavy vocals resounded with passion-ate intensity, especially when he sang, “Ineed to earn a dollar.” He sings the word“need” with such forcefulness that it soundslike a three-syllable outcry carrying all theweight of the worried blues.

“You know I need to earn a dollarThe cost of living has gone so high,Now then I don’t know what to do.”Jones sounds deeply distraught when he

sings those lines from “Stockyard Blues.”He sounds like a voice for the economicmisery of a generation of AfricanAmericans who had escaped the povertyand racism of Mississippi, Georgia andAlabama, only to feel trapped in crowdedslum hotels and low-wage jobs inChicago’s stockyards and factories.

Jones was born in Arkansas and beganplaying the blues alongside such masterfulMississippi musicians as Johnny Shines,Eddie Taylor, Howlin’ Wolf and BigWalter Horton. Jones was part of the com-pany of gifted musicians who brought theintensely felt blues of the MississippiDelta to Chicago and created an amplifiedbrand of electric blues, performing insmall combos at the open-air MaxwellStreet Market and in Chicago’s SouthSide bars and clubs.

His beautiful music is criminallyunderappreciated, so much so that it isalmost painful to listen to his work todayand realize that this great musician wasnever given his due. In the early 1950s,

See Dark Was the Night page 9

Dark Was the Night, Cold Was the GroundAfter his death, Johnson’s music would streak to thestars. But during his life, this masterful musician sufferedthe crucifixion of poverty. Dark was the night and coldwas the ground on which Blind Willie Johnson was laid.

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Big Mama Thornton was one of the premier female blues vocalists of the 1950s.

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Floyd Jones made a handful of brilliantblues for the J.O.B. label, including “DarkRoad” and “On the Road Again.” Heoften played with pianist Sunnyland Slimand harmonica great Snooky Pryor.

His 1954 anthem, “Hard Times,” was asoul-deep cry of anguish about reducedhours, lowered wages, poverty and lay-offs. “This is a bad time,” sings Jones,“we laying them off by the thousands.”

In the midst of supposed postwar afflu-ence, Floyd Jones was a voice for thosewho had been left out of the nation’svaunted economic progress.

“Hard times, hard times here with me now.If they don’t get no better, I believe I’ll leave this town.”Reading those words on paper can’t

come close to doing justice to the deeplyworried and agonizing vocal that Jonesdelivers. His impassioned singing notonly expresses his despondency at the“hard times,” but also communicates asense of frustration and outrage rightbeneath the surface, an anger that seemsclose to boiling over.

If Floyd Jones was unusually outspo-ken in performing these blues in such aquiescent era, he was right in the main-stream of the electric blues in his singingand playing. Not only is Jones a giftedsinger and guitarist, but he could puttogether a powerful band in the best tradi-tion of the Chicago blues groups headedby Muddy Waters and Howlin’ Wolf.

In 1966, Testament Records releasedan album in their “Masters of ModernBlues” series entitled “Floyd Jones —Eddie Taylor.” Floyd Jones sang andplayed guitar with the powerhouseaccompaniment of Otis Spann on piano,Big Walter Horton on harmonica, FredBelow on drums, and Eddie Taylor onguitar. Every one of those musicians wasa world-class master. Eddie Taylor’s gui-tar work was the secret ingredient thatfueled blues singer Jimmy Reed’s greatsuccess for many years. Otis Spann wasthe pianist in Muddy Waters’ classicbands, and many consider him to be thefinest blues pianist of all. Big WalterHorton was, along with Sonny BoyWilliamson II and Little Walter, one ofthe finest blues harmonica masters of alltime. Drummer Fred Below played onnearly all of Little Walter’s hits and wasperhaps the most in-demand sessiondrummer of his time.

That’s the company Floyd Jones kept,yet today he is nearly forgotten. FloydJones and this blues ensemble demonstratethe brilliance of the golden era ofChicago’s electric blues in the ‘50s and‘60s. These artists not only brought newlife to the blues, but were the key inspira-tion for the Rolling Stones, Yardbirds,Animals, Cream, Fleetwood Mac and JohnMayall’s Bluesbreakers in England, andthe Paul Butterfield Blues Band, JohnnyWinter and Canned Heat in America.

Despite the great commercial successenjoyed by blues-rock musicians inEngland and America who were inspiredso heavily by Chicago blues musicians,the black blues masters who gave birth tothis music often could not even make a

living performing the music that hadmade other musicians rich.

It can lead one to despair to realize thatFloyd Jones, a beautiful and soulful song-writer and performer, recorded so littleand died in near obscurity in 1989.

Pete Welding, who produced the 1966Masters of Modern Blues record, wrote inthe liner notes that Floyd Jones is “one ofthe handful of excellent composers ofblues to have emerged in the postwarblues idiom.”

The very excellence of Floyd’s workmakes his fate even more incomprehensi-ble and bitterly ironic. It is a fate sharedby many of his fellow bluesmen.

Floyd Jones was one of the very fewmusicians who spoke out for the humanityof low-wage workers in Chicago. Hissongs, “Stockyard Blues” and “HardTimes” are outspoken acts of solidaritywith workers who are screwed over by thepowers that be.

And then comes the final irony: FloydJones himself became one of thosescrewed-over workers. Here is how PeteWelding describes it in his liner notes:

“In recent years, Floyd has been work-ing as a forklift operator, the latest in asuccession of like ‘day jobs’ he has beenforced to take to support his family. It istruly a sad commentary on the state of theblues in Chicago, where one of its finestcomposers and performers cannot earn alivelihood at what he does so well.”

JOHN BRIM’S TOUGH TIMES

John Brim was another great yet large-ly unheralded Chicago blues singer andguitarist who traveled in some of the samecircles as Jones. In 1953, Brim recordedone of the gutsiest and most politicalblues songs, “Tough Times.”

With his wife Grace Brim on drums,and John Brim on guitar and vocals,“Tough Times” is a classic side of toughChicago blues, but with a radical differ-ence — its radical politics.

By January 1954, an economic slow-down in the United States had resulted ina nearly 10 percent unemployment rate inthe black community, nearly double thejobless rate for the rest of the nation. Brimresponded by warning that unemploymentwas getting as bad as the worst part of theDepression in 1932.

“Tough Times” has some of the toughswagger, and the stop-and-start dynamics,of Muddy Waters’ “Mannish Boy,” but itcouldn’t be farther removed in its subject.While Muddy delivered a growling vocalabout discovering a powerful sense ofmanhood at the age of five (when hismother said he was “gonna be the greatestman alive”), Brim’s song describes howone’s humanity and manhood are all butdestroyed by bad economic conditions.

“Me and my baby was talking and what she said is true. Said, “It seems like times is getting tough like they was in ‘32.You don’t have no jobOur bills is past dueNow tell me baby, what we going to do?”If only this song had been heard as

widely as it deserved, it might havebecome that rarest of recordings — ananthem for the hard-hit working class. Forin “Tough Times,” Brim takes the side ofcountless workers facing layoffs and pro-

longed unemployment, and the hungerand desperation that were almost com-pletely ignored in the mainstream media.

Brim’s blues are a fearless report fromthe downside of American prosperity.

“I had a good job working many long hours a week.They had a big layoff and they got poor me.I’m broke and disgusted — in misery,Can’t find a part-time job, nothing in my house to eat.Tough times, tough times is here once moreIf you don’t have no money, you can’t live happy no more.”

OTIS RUSH’S DOUBLE TROUBLE

Even Otis Rush, the epitome of sophis-ticated urban blues, sang passionately ofthe terrible price of layoffs and economichardships. In a thrillingly beautiful songhe recorded in 1958, “Double Trouble,”Rush’s voice and guitar both wail withspine-tingling intensity as they lamenthow a lost job has left him destitute.

His singing is so intense that youbelieve every word when he cries outabout laying awake all night after beinglaid off at work. This is the dark night ofthe soul, turned into a work of art by anabsolute master of the blues guitar.

“I lay awake at nightOh so low, just so troubled.It’s hard to keep a job,Laid off and I’m having double trouble.”“Double Trouble,” recorded for the

Cobra label in Chicago in 1958, is anotherEisenhower-era anthem about the layoffsand lack of money that plagued the blackcommunity in the midst of affluence.

Rush sang about the same troubles thatmany people living in Chicago’s slumhousing had experienced — no job, nomoney, no decent clothes to wear, and nosleep at night due to the worried blues.

He has “double trouble” because beinglaid off and running out of money hasended in his being rejected by his girl-

friend. “You laughed at me walking,baby, when I had no place to go.” It’s badenough to be homeless, walking thestreets all night long, but when he sings ofbeing rejected in that soul-piercing voice,we feel the weight of his torment, the“double trouble” of being broken botheconomically and romantically.

It is amazing how much this short songreveals about the ruinous effects of pover-ty. It is hard enough to undergo hungerand unemployment, but it is maddening tosuffer deprivation in a society where somany are wealthy. The constant barrageof advertising and propaganda perpetuatethe lie that anyone can become wealthy ina capitalist society. “Double Trouble”tells the real story.

“Hey, hey, they say you can make it if you try.Yes, in this generation of millionairesIt’s hard for me to keep decent clothes to wear.”In “The Sound of Silence,” Paul Simon

sang, “The words of the prophets are writ-ten on the subway walls and tenementhalls.” Otis Rush’s song is one of thoseprophetic warnings from the tenementsthat society should have heeded. A societythat neglects and abandons its poorest citi-zens is headed for double trouble.

In 1958, long before middle-class,mainstream America became aware of theterribly destructive effects of poverty andhomelessness, Rush was singing about itin Chicago bars and blues clubs.

BIG MAMA’S LANDLORD BLUES

You know that times must be hardindeed just by listening to the large numberof blues songs titled “Hard Times,”“Tough Times” and “Ain’t Times Hard.”Big Mama Thornton recorded a shout ofdespair called “Hard Times” in 1952 writ-ten by the famed rock-and-roll songwritingteam of Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller.

Willie Mae “Big Mama” Thornton had abig hit with Leiber and Stoller’s “Hound

See Dark Was the Night page 10

Dark Was the Night, Cold Was the GroundFloyd Jones was one of the few musicians to speak out forthe humanity of low-wage workers who were exploited bythe powers that be. In a bitter irony, Jones himselfbecame one of those exploited workers.

from page 8

Big Bill Broonzy wrote many blues songs about poverty and racial discrimination.

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Dog,” number one on the rhythm and bluescharts for seven weeks in 1953, and ElvisPresley had an even bigger hit with it.

Thornton was inspired by Bessie Smithand Memphis Minnie, and she, in turn,inspired other blues and rock singers,including Janis Joplin. Thornton’s owncomposition, the great blues lament “Balland Chain,” caused a sensation whenJoplin pulled out all the stops and turnedit into a wild cry of despair at theMonterey International Pop Festival in1967.

Thornton was one of the premierwomen blues vocalists of the 1950s. Onstage, she was an awe-inspiring bluesshouter with a deep, growling voice thatsome reviewers found menacing andaggressive.

Chris Strachwitz, who recorded BigMama in London while she was perform-ing with the American Folk Blues Festivalin 1965, found that she was an “amazing-ly versatile singer.” Strachwitz recordedtwo albums with her backed by two dif-ferent all-star blues bands: “Big MamaThornton with the Muddy Waters BluesBand” and “Big Mama Thornton inEurope,” when she was accompanied bylegendary blues guitarists Buddy Guy andMississippi Fred McDowell.

In “Hard Times,” Big Mama Thorntondelivers a powerfully convincing perfor-mance of a woman whose life is fallingapart as she trembles on the brink of evic-tion. She is hounded at home as debt-col-lectors and landlords knock at her door.

She wails out the first line — “timesare getting hard in the city” — as a darkcry of desperation that seems to comefrom deep in her soul. Anyone who hasever faced eviction will know how realis-tically she expresses her fear and anguish.

“Well I woke up this morningSomebody knocking at my door.It was a man standing thereTold me about the debts I owe.”In despair, she tells the debt collector

that she is going to just give back every-thing she bought and start all over. But thehard times are only beginning, becausenext, the landlord comes to her door tobadger her for unpaid rent. The landlordhas already thrown many people out, andshe sings, “I know I will be next.”

Sensing her fate closing in on her,Thornton’s anguished singing in the finalverse conveys what it feels like when theburdens of life become too heavy for oneperson to bear.

“Times are getting hard in the cityI’m going on down the roadWith this little money that I’m makingI can’t pull this heavy load.”

ROCKS HAVE BEEN MY PILLOW

Melvin “Lil’ Son” Jackson was a coun-try bluesman from Texas who played inthe classic style. Some writers calledJackson a throwback to an earlier era ofthe country blues. If so, what an awesomethrowback he was. Texas had a rich her-itage of blues musicians, and other writerslikened Jackson to Texas bluesmanLightnin’ Hopkins. That comparisonalone is very high praise.

Similarly to Juke Boy Bonner, Lil’ Sonwas born into a family of sharecroppers

on a small family farm in Texas. Hisfather, Johnny Jackson, was a sharecrop-per and Lil’ Son didn’t want to follow inhis father’s footsteps because he saw theinjustices of the sharecropping system.

He escaped that existence by settingout on a musical career, recording forGold Star in the late 1940s and Imperialin the early 1950s. He had several region-al hits and a national hit with “FreedomTrain Blues,” but left his musical careerbehind in the mid-1950s to work as amechanic and at an auto parts store.

One of the strengths of Lil’ SonJackson is his story-telling ability, deliv-ered in a dramatic singing voice. ChrisStrachwitz persuaded Jackson to recordagain in 1960, and Arhoolie Recordsreleased an excellent compilation of hismusic, “Blues Come to Texas.”Strachwitz wrote that Jackson had “abeautiful guitar style and a hauntingvoice.”

Many remember Bob Marley and theWailers singing, “cold ground was mybed last night and rock was my pillowtoo,” on their “Natty Dread” album in1974. Twenty-five years earlier, in 1949,Lil’ Son Jackson recorded his profoundlymoving “Homeless Blues” for Gold Starrecords. Jackson sang,

“Rocks have been my pillow, baby, gravel have been my bed,I ain’t got nowhere, oh Lord, to lay my poor aching head.”In the next verse of “Homeless Blues,”

Jackson tries to hitch a ride on the high-way, but finds that everyone passes himby. “Nobody seems to know me,” hesings, as he is left deserted on the side ofthe road.

Jackson’s song is truly perceptive incapturing the feeling of being rejected andtreated like an invisible man — one of themost painful experiences reported byhomeless people. Being made to feel likean outcast, an untouchable, adds a newlevel of emotional suffering to the physi-cal hardships of homelessness.

The sense of feeling worthless andalone and unloved comes to a head whenJackson adds the despair of losing a loverto the torment of being ragged and home-less. It sounds simple to write, but it istruly amazing to see so much meaningpacked into a few short verses.

It’s a picture of a man’s agony — andit’s the poetry of the blues at its best.

“You know I’m ragged and I’m dirty, People I ain’t got no place to go.I know you don’t want me baby, Lord you don’t love me no more.”

BIG BILL TAKES ON SEGREGATION

Big Bill Broonzy, the man who wouldbecome one of the best-known bluesmusicians in the nation, was born in Scott,Mississippi, as Lee Conley Bradley. Hisparents were sharecroppers who had 17children. Broonzy became one of the moststylistically diverse blues musicians, con-stantly adapting to the times with anevolving musical approach that stretchedfrom the late 1920s to the 1950s.

Broonzy began recording for Blue BirdRecords in the 1930s, and was invited toperform as a blues musician at both of theheralded “From Spirituals to Swing” con-certs held at Carnegie Hall in December1938 and December 1939.

After World War II, he performed inEngland and Europe in the 1950s andbecame an enormously influential musicalguide to a new generation of overseasblues fans. He also returned to playing inhis country blues style as part of the folkmusic revival in the United States.

Broonzy died in 1958, but his life inthe blues spans the years from his 1928song, “Starvation Blues,” to his propheticcondemnation of Jim Crow laws at thedawn of the civil rights era.

With real foresight, Broonzy capturedthe economic desperation approaching onthe nation’s horizon in his “StarvationBlues,” written in 1928, a year before thestock market crash of October 1929. Evenbefore the Depression struck with fullforce, the black community was in deeptrouble and their growing poverty carrieda warning of hard times to come for therest of the nation.

“Starvation Blues” painted a stark pic-ture of the hunger and evictions that wereabout to sweep an unsuspecting nation.

“Starvation in my kitchenRent sign’s on my door.And if my luck don’t changeI can’t stay at home no more.”“Starvation Blues” packs the entire

devastation of the coming economic col-lapse into a few concise lines that warnedabout how unemployment would causehunger and difficulties in paying the rent,followed by eviction notices and home-lessness. He described this chain reactionof poverty before millions were thrownout of work during the Depression.

“Man, I ain’t got no job, I ain’t got no place to stay.” As the Depression years went on,

Broonzy recorded “UnemploymentStomp” in 1938. The song is almostincongruously jaunty and swings with theaccompaniment of guitar, piano and trum-pet, yet his lyrics are a distress signalwarning that unemployment and hungercan break up marriages and families.

“Broke up my home ‘cause I didn’t have no work to do,My wife had to leave me ‘cause she was starving too.”Just as Broonzy had proven farsighted

in singing about the nation’s economiccollapse, he showed himself to be just asprescient in confronting the racism andsegregation of Jim Crow laws.

Broonzy had served two years in theArmy, and was stationed in Europe duringWorld War I. In his 1928 song, “WhenWill I Get to Be Called a Man,” Broonzyvoiced the discontent of many black ser-vicemen who returned from fighting fordemocracy overseas, only to encounter thesame racial inequality and segregation athome. He starts with a simple, yet deeplymoving lament about what it feels like tobe a second-class citizen, dishonored inhis own country.

“When I was born into this world,this is what happened to me.I was never called a man,and now I’m fifty-three.”When he returns from military service

wearing his uniform, he is told he needs toget back into his overalls and accept thesame subservient job as before — alongwith the same demeaning treatment.

“When I got back from overseas, that night we had a ball.Next day I met the old boss,He said, “Boy, get you some overalls.”I wonder when, I wonder when, I wonder when I will get to be called a man.Do I have to wait till I get ninety-

three?”On the liner notes of the

Smithsonian/Folkways compilation,“Trouble In Mind,” Broonzy describeshow he wrote “Black, Brown and WhiteBlues” about his true-life experience ofon-the-job racism.

This historically important song was

written long before the Montgomery busboycott sparked the civil rights move-ment, but it speaks out so bravely aboutracism in America that U.S. record com-panies refused to release it. It was finallyrecorded in 1951 only when Big Bill wentto Europe and a French company recordedit. It is magnificently outspoken.

“I went to the employment officeGot a number and I got in line.They called everybody’s numberBut they never did call mine.They say, “If you was white, you’d be all rightIf you was brown, stick aroundBut as you’re black, oh brother,get back, get back, get back.”He describes the constant victimization

he faces, the lower pay based on discrimi-nation, and how even service in the wardoesn’t lead to equal rights and respect.

Big Bill Broonzy’s unconquerable spir-it speaks out against Jim Crow discrimi-nation in the song’s final line. Keep inmind that the following verse was writtenlong before the world had heard of RosaParks and Martin Luther King.

“Now I want you to tell me, brotherWhat you gonna do about the old Jim Crow?”In 1956, Broonzy performed an updat-

ed version of the spiritual, “This Train(Bound for Glory)” with Pete Seeger, aversion that can be heard on the Folkways“Trouble In Mind” CD. Broonzy makesthe familiar song a civil rights anthem:

“There’s no Jim Crow and no discrimination.This train is bound for glory, this train.”

EISENHOWER BLUES

Perhaps the most boldly political voicein the blues world of the 1950s and 1960sbelonged to J. B. Lenoir, a brilliant andfearless songwriter who took on an entireworld of injustice by composing bluesthat fought against poverty, lynching, theVietnam War, racial discrimination,police violence in Alabama and the shoot-ing of James Meredith in Mississippi.

In 1954, long before anti-establishmentsongs became more acceptable, Lenoirsang his outspoken “Eisenhower Blues.”His song was considered to be so contro-versial that political pressure forced it tobe removed from stores and retitled as theless inflammatory “Tax Paying Blues.”

Lenoir sang in an unusually high-regis-ter voice, and he played acoustic guitar ina boogie style he called “African hunch.”His voice was a very expressive andunique instrument and he delivered pow-erful performances of some of the mostinsightful lyrics of dissent ever written.

“Eisenhower Blues” shows what a cre-ative and daring wordsmith and musicianhe was. Even though the powers that beforced a change in his song’s title,Lenoir’s voice was not silenced.

“Taken all my money to pay the taxI’m only giving you people the natural facts,I’m only telling you people my beliefBecause I am headed straight on relief.” With “Eisenhower Blues,” J.B. Lenoir

broke away from the manufactured con-formity of the Eisenhower era and sound-ed an outcry from the people who couldno longer pay their rent.

“Ain’t got a dime, ain’t even got a cent.I don’t have no money to pay my rent.My baby needs some clothes, she needs some shoesPeoples I don’t know what I’m gonna do.Hmm, I got them Eisenhower blues.”The age of Eisenhower was also the

age of Sen. Joseph McCarthy and hisblacklists and purges of accused dissi-dents. J. B. Lenoir voiced his outspokenopposition to war and injustice at a timewhen dissent could be very costly.

“Eisenhower Blues” had an element of

See Dark Was the Night page 11

Dark Was the Night, Cold Was the GroundJohn Lee Hooker said, “I look at the people in the streets,sleeping in the streets — hard time. I wonder why thesepeople have to do that. If we get out and reach out tothose people, it would be a better world.”

from page 9

November 2014 ST R E E T SP I R I T 11

light-hearted humor, but Lenoir’s song,“Everybody Wants to Know,” is a radicalwarning to the rich that hunger inAmerica could spark outright rebellion.

“You rich people listenYou better listen real deepIf we poor people get so hungrywe gonna take some food to eat.Uh, uh, uh, I got them laid-off blues.”Many of his finest political songs were

considered too controversial to even bereleased in the America of the 1950s. Inhis book Nothing But the Blues, LawrenceCohn wrote: “Lenoir’s landmark bluesprotest album, ‘Alabama Blues,’ dealingwith racial violence, civil rights andVietnam, was released only in Europe.”

German blues festival producer HorstLippman said, “At the time, no one waswilling to release it in America because ofthe political content.”

It took the intervention of Europeanblues supporters to allow J.B. Lenoir tofinally speak the truth about what washappening to black people in America. In1965, Lenoir traveled to Europe as part ofthe American Folk Blues Festival.

Festival producer Lippman wrote, “Imade arrangements that J. B. Lenoir final-ly should get his chance — without anylimitation — to sing and play whatevercomes through his mind, whatever hemight think was and is wrong in theUnited States toward black people.”

Lenoir was born in 1929 in Monticello,Mississippi, and as the 1960s began, hewould have a great deal more to say aboutpoverty, racism and attacks on civil rightsworkers in his home state.

THE NO SHOES BLUES OF

JOHN LEE HOOKER

An astoundingly high number of thenation’s most masterful blues musicianswere born in Mississippi. In Ted Gioia’sbook, Delta Blues, Detroit bluesman JohnLee Hooker offered his own reason why.

“I know why the best blues artistscome from Mississippi,” said Hooker.“Because it’s the worst state. You havethe blues all right if you’re down inMississippi.”

As Nigel Williamson wrote in TheRough Guide to the Blues: “The socialand economic problems of the Deltaregion persist to this day, the product andresult of its history of enslavement and thelegacies of the cotton plantation era,including the Jim Crow laws, racial segre-gation of public educational institutionsand black disenfranchisement.”

John Lee Hooker was born outsideClarksdale, Mississippi, and as soon as hecame of age, he moved to Detroit, wherehe became one of the pre-eminent bluesmusicians of his era, with hard-partyingboogie music like “Boogie Chillen,”“Boom Boom” and “Dimples.” ButHooker also sang the “Hobo Blues” aboutriding the rails endlessly, and “HouseRent Boogie” about holding parties toraise the rent after being evicted.

Perhaps Hooker’s Mississippi roots

show up most clearly in his stark and ter-ribly sad song, “No Shoes,” written in1960, just as the nation was finallybecoming aware of the extent of hunger inMississippi. Hooker’s song reveals thestory of hunger in America more tellinglythan any Congressional fact-finding tour.

“No food on my tableAnd no shoes to go on my feet.My children cry for mercy,They got no place to call your own.”Hooker’s voice is so sympathetic and

poignant, nearly sobbing about the hungerand hardships facing his children. “Mychildren cry for mercy,” he sings, yet it isHooker’s powerful, deep voice that criesout for mercy.

It is fascinating to hear this king of theboogie utilize his rough, growling voice tooffer such a tender and kind-hearted pleafor mercy for his children. Even his rawand primal electric guitar sounds beautifuland mournful. It becomes another voiceasking for compassion. If ever the mostrough-edged brand of Delta blues can besaid to be sensitive, this is it.

Hooker ends his short song with anunforgettable image — a picture from theOther America that indicts society’s fail-ure to care about malnourished children.

“No food to go on my table.Oh no, too sad.Children crying for bread.”In an interview in the book, Elwood’s

Blues: Interviews with the Blues Legendsand Stars, John Lee Hooker said, “I lookat the people in the streets, sleeping in thestreets — hard time. I wonder why thesepeople have to do that. If we get out andreach out to those people, it would be abetter world. I can’t save the world, but Icannot forget about the poor people work-ing in the plants and the fields and buyingJohn Lee Hooker’s records. Wasn’t forthem, I wouldn’t be here.”

BORN DEAD IN MISSISSIPPI

As great as Hooker’s song is, it wouldonce again fall to J. B. Lenoir to deliverthe most explosive indictment of theplight of children in the state ofMississippi. Lenoir’s song, “Born Dead”is a blues for Mississippi, and asks a dark-ly disturbing question about why childrenare even born in a state where they willface so much poverty and discrimination.

“Lord why was I born in Mississippi, when it’s so hard to get ahead?Every black child born in Mississippi,you know the poor child is born dead.”Lenoir wrote that the black child born

there will never speak his language, willnever even know his mind and will neverknow “why in the world he’s so poor.”

“Why was I born in Mississippi?” Thatwas not just a rhetorical question thatLenoir asked in a song. Just like John LeeHooker, Muddy Waters, and countlessother Mississippi blues musicians who leftthe state of their birth, Lenoir leftMississippi for good in the late 1940s andmoved to Chicago, where he played theblues at night and worked in meatpackingplants during the day.

Years after he left Mississippi andbecame a respected songwriter in Chicago

blues circles, the hard times still weighedheavily on his mind.

In Mike Rowe’s book, Chicago Blues,Lenoir describes why he left Mississippifor Chicago in 1949, at age 20. Lenoirsaid, “The way they does you down therein Mississippi, it ain’t what a man shouldsuffer, what a man should go through.And I said, after I seen the way they treatmy daddy, I never was going to stand thatno kind of way. So I just worked as hardas I could to get that money to get away.”

In his song, “Down in Mississippi,”Lenoir sang: “I count myself a lucky manjust to get away with my life.” Heexplained that he felt lucky to escape withhis life because of the strange and deadlynature of its “hunting season.”

“They had a hunting season on a rabbit.If you shot him you went to jail.The season was always open on me:Nobody needed no bail.”His description of the Mississippi hunt-

ing season is a chilling reminder of thestate’s history of lynchings, shootings,and bombings, the assassination ofMedgar Evers in Jackson, Mississippi, in1963, and the murdered bodies of civilrights workers James Chaney, AndrewGoodman and Michael Schwerner, foundburied in an earthen dam in 1964.

In The Devil’s Music: A History of theBlues, Giles Oakley wrote, “Mississippihad a reputation for racism and bigotryfrom the earliest days of Emancipation; itsrecord of lynching, reaching a bloodypeak in the early days of the Jim Crowlaws, was appalling.”

Oakley added, “During the civil rightscampaigns of the 1960s, the state was stilla by-word for repression and racism, withseveral bombings and slayings...”

SHOT IN MISSISSIPPI

In 1966, there was a shot heard ‘roundthe world in Mississippi — the shot thatnearly took James Meredith’s life.Meredith had set off on a March AgainstFear from Memphis, Tennessee, toJackson, Mississippi, in support of voterregistration. On the second day of hismarch against racial violence, a whitegunman shot him several times. Meredithsurvived and days later, 15,000 peoplemarched on Jackson in the state’s largestcivil rights demonstration.

Lenoir’s song, “Shot on JamesMeredith” is a cry of anguish from thevery depths of his soul about the shooting.

“They shot James Meredith down just like a dog.Mr. President, I wonder what are you gonna do now?I don’t believe you’re gonna do nothing at all.”Few musicians ever commented on this

barbaric act of terror, other than J. B.Lenoir and folksinger Phil Ochs in hisbrave song, “Here’s to the State ofMississippi.”

Lenoir reminded us that Meredith wasmarching to Mississippi to “lead my peo-ple” to “what he thought was right.”

“Last I heard of my boy James Meredithsome evil man shot to take his life.” Lenoir also wrote powerful condemna-

tions of the violence and racism encoun-tered by civil rights activists in the neigh-boring state of Alabama. In his song,“Alabama,” he sang about how black peo-ple — his brothers and sisters — weremurdered in Alabama, and the state let thekillers go free.

“I never will go back to Alabama,that is not the place for me.You know they killed my sister and my brother,and the whole world let them people down there go free.”If Lenoir’s voice sounds overwrought

and nearly strangled by powerful emotionwhile singing “Alabama,” there was goodreason. In the Alabama cities of Anniston,Birmingham and Montgomery, buses

were burned and freedom riders were bru-tally assaulted — several of them beatennearly to death — by racist mobs of whitepeople in May 1961.

On September 15, 1963, the 16th StreetBaptist Church in Birmingham wasbombed by members of the Ku KluxKlan, killing four young Sunday Schoolstudents in the terrorist attack. In March1965, Alabama state troopers brutallyclubbed hundreds of nonviolent demon-strators marching for voting rights overthe Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma.Jimmie Lee Jackson, Viola Liuzzo andRev. James Reeb were all murdered inAlabama during the Selma voting rightscampaign.

Lenoir sang out fearlessly against thekillings, police brutality, bus burnings andchurch bombings in Alabama that hadstunned a nation. More than that, Lenoircaptured the terrible sadness that grippedmany over the tragic murders of defense-less children, ministers and idealisticyoung activists. After singing that hisbrother was shot down by a police officerin Alabama, he breaks down in his grief:

“I can’t help but to sit down and cry sometimes,thinking about how my poor brother lost his life.”Lenoir responded on a very personal

level to the violence directed against theblack community, not only during civilrights protests, but for decades inAlabama. By writing in the first person,he directly expressed his own grief andanger over the violence, and his emotionalinvolvement gave his blues their deeplyfelt sense of personal identification andpain.

“Alabama, Alabama, why you wanna be so meanYou got my people behind a barb wire fence,now you trying to take my freedom away from me.”Even in his song “Vietnam Blues,”

Lenoir can’t tear his vision away from theviolence raging at home in the South. Inwhat at first seems to be another of thepeace anthems of the 1960s, Lenoir sings:“Oh God, if you can hear my prayer now,please help my brothers over in Vietnam.”

But thinking and praying for an end tothe killing in Vietnam only serves toremind him of the need to end the killingin Mississippi.

With lyrics like this, J.B. Lenoir wasnot only a blues singer. He was a prophetwith a message of extreme importance forhis country.

“Vietnam, Vietnam, everybody crying about Vietnam.Vietnam, Vietnam, everybody crying about Vietnam.The law all the day killing me down in Mississippi, andNobody seems to give a damn.”Lenoir was a man who stood up to the

challenges of his time. His last twoalbums, “Alabama Blues,” released in1965, and “Down in Mississippi,”released in 1966, are beautiful expressionsof his conscience. Both these records havebeen released as “Vietnam Blues” onEvidence Records.

Tragically, Lenoir died on April 29,1967, only a year after releasing one ofhis finest recordings. He had just turned38, another bluesman gone long before histime. His death was reportedly from aheart attack and may have stemmed frominjuries from a recent car accident.

John Mayall, one of the guiding lightsof the blues in England, wrote “The Deathof J.B. Lenoir” to express his grief at theloss of his friend.

“J.B. Lenoir is dead and it’s hit me like a hammer blow.I cry inside my heart that the world can hear my man no more.”

Dark Was the Night, Cold Was the GroundJ.B. Lenoir wrote several powerful songs that bravelycondemned the racial violence directed at black peo-ple and civil rights activists in Mississippi. In“Alabama,” he sang about how his brothers and sis-ters were murdered in Alabama, and the state let thekillers go free.

from page 10

November 2014ST R E E T SP I R I T12

Story and photos by Janny Castillo

In my work as an organizer, I share stories that haveinspired me. I would like to share one of these sto-ries now. I will speak in her words because herwords are best

1931 — SOMEWHERE IN AMERICA

When I was three and my brother was five, my motherand father separated. Neither of them wanted us. But mygrandmother said, “send them to me.”

My grandmother was very smart and wise. She ownedthe only black-owned store in a really small town.

When I was seven, we were taken away from her. Wewere picked up and taken to St. Louis to my mother’speople. We tried to learn and become city kids but it washard. When I was seven, something terrible happened. Iwas sexually attacked by my mother’s boyfriend.

I told my brother, even though the man said that hewould kill him. But my brother was “kingdom come” tome, and he told me he wouldn’t let himself be killed. Mybrother told the family and the man was put in jail forone day and one night. Then he was released.

Then two huge policemen came into my mother’shouse. My brother and I were playing a game on the liv-ing room carpet. The policemen looked like giants. Theytold my mother that the man who attacked me had beenfound dead. He had been kicked to death.

I thought my voice had killed him. That was myseven-year-old logic, so I stopped talking. My mother’sfamily did their best to help me, but they did not knowwhat I knew, that my voice could kill.

Finally, they got tired of the presence of this mad,sullen, silent child so they sent me back to my grandma.That was the best thing that could have happened. Mygrandma bought me a five-cents tablet and tied a pencilon it. I kept the tablet tied to my waist band, so if any-body asked what I thought, I would write it.

Grandma’s friend, Ms. Flowers, knew that I didn’tspeak. There was a library about one-tenth the size of thelibrary in the city. Ms. Flowers said, “I want you to readall the books from a - cl, and make notes, I was eightyears old. I read every book. There were many books Idid not understand, but I found out that I loved poetry.

When I was about twelve-and-a-half years old, Ms.Flowers invited me to her house for tea cookies andlemonade. She talked about poetry and read to me. Thenshe said, “You do not like poetry.”

I furiously wrote in my tablet, and said, “yes, ma’am Ido.” She kept shaking her finger at me, which I knew tobe very rude. I was so upset I ran out the house.

Ms. Flowers didn’t stop there. She followed me backto my grandma’s house, yelling and following me aroundthe room. “You will never love it until you speak it, untilyou feel it come across your tongue, over your teeth,through your lips, you will never love poetry, never!”She harassed me for many months.

Finally, one day I went under my house where only

the chickens go, and I tried to recite a poem, and I foundout that I had left my voice. My voice hadn’t left me.

THE CHILD WHO BECAME A POET

This child went on to become a world-famous poet, whowon three Grammys, published seven autobiographies andspoke six languages. She received dozens of awards andmore than 50 honorary degrees. She had a fiery, fiercegrace and abounding love for everyone. She spoke at thePresident Clinton inauguration. She was asked by theUnited Nations to write a poem for the world.

She was born Marguerite Annie Johnson, but you mayknow her best as Maya Angelou. I will end with a fewwords from her poem, a brave and startling truth:

When we come to it We, this people, on this wayward, floating body Created on this earth, of this earth Have the power to fashion for this earth A climate where every man and every woman Can live freely without sanctimonious piety Without crippling fear

When we come to it We must confess that we are the possible We are the miraculous, the true wonder of this world That is when, and only when We come to it.

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International Day to Eradicate Poverty "On this International Day for the Eradication of

Poverty, let us recognize that extreme poverty any-where is a threat to human security everywhere. Letus recall that poverty is a denial of human rights. Forthe first time in history, in this age of unprecedentedwealth and technical prowess, we have the power tosave humanity from this shameful scourge. Let ussummon the will to do it." — Kofi Annan

How We Find Our Silenced Voices and Learn to SingThe International Day for the Eradication of Poverty

has been observed since 1993, when the United NationsGeneral Assembly designated this day to promote aware-ness of the need to eradicate poverty in all countries.

Jayy Castillo, Hope and Justice Coordinator for St.Mary’s Center, delivered these remarks at the Oaklandobservance of the International Day for the Eradicationof Poverty, held at St. Mary’s Center in October 2014.

IT IS I by Janny Castillo

It is I, friends of St. Mary's, who stand here in this place.It is I, who once lived head down and bentSuffering on hard groundand hard times.

So bent I could not,would notdare to look up and see my light,OR your light,OR God's Divine Light.

A Light whose only purpose was to lead mefrom my dark nightinto morning light.

See my wrinkles, from too much cryingAnd not enough laughingsee my feetwalk slowlyso as not to disturb the deep painsin my kneesand in my back.

I tell you though, I ran for yearsthrough poverty-rich streets,rich with violence and despair.

I ranwith longingfor dignity, for food, for rest.

Those days are gone, friends of St. Mary's.It is I, who stands here in this place,

I stand here to tell youthat those days behind me,are only that...

Behind me!

Despite what my history demands of me,Despite what my circumstances demand of me,I choose today to stand with youTo stand true, to tell you thatI am strong, capable and well.

I am dignity. I am courage.I am loved by my Creator.I am loved by my community.I am loved by you, my St. Mary's FriendsAnd you are loved by me.

After learning about Maya Angelou’s story, people joined hands in the spirit of community and compassion.

A dance group performs at St. Mary’s Center in honor of the International Day for the Eradication of Poverty.