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A Man, a Plan, and a Bus Line

Martin Luther King, Jr. National Historical Park, Atlanta, Georgia

The most immediate thing I noticed when got to the historic Ebeneezer Baptist Church was the dozens of Black kids hopping off numerous school buses for a field trip. I’ve been touring these parks — natural, cultural, historical — for over 30 years, and one thing that’s glaring is the rarity of African-American visitors. It’s not surprising, considering the distinct difference between the white and black experience in these United States, but it’s still a shame. This is their country, after all: they built it, they endured 400 years of slavery and misery because of it, and it’s a damn shame that we haven’t come to terms with that. But, we haven’t, and in light of events of the past decade, I doubt we will in my lifetime.

Ebenezer Baptist Church

I’m currently reading Bearing the Cross: Martin Luther King, Jr., and the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, by David J. Carrow. I’m embarrassed and ashamed I never read a King biography, so I chose this Pulitzer-prize winning 1986 tome. It’s a thorough retelling (perhaps too thorough, it’s taken me an embarrassingly long time get through), but it’s very interesting. Of course, it goes into the major events (the early bus boycotts, the March on Washington, Kennedy’s assassination, and the ultimate demise of Rev. King himself), but also a lot of the smaller behind-the-scenes machinations and foundational decisions of the Civil Rights movement. There’s still a lot to learn from those days, lessons that we can apply today, under this slew of new attacks on fundamental and Constitutional freedoms.

The Montgomery Bus Boycott is a fascinating case study of resistance, one perfectly suited to America’s blend of capitalism and democracy. Montgomery, Alabama was a typical, deep-south city of the time: segregated lunch counters, water fountains, schools. Tacit agreements on hiring, Black people relegated to menial labor, domestic service, or setting up their own commerce on the sly. Today, we know all of this, but what people might have forgotten was the importance of bus transportation in the 50’s. One out of three households did not own a car, higher in the cities (as is today). Buses were used by all races and classes back then, to get to work, go shopping, run errands, etc. They were the backbone of cities everywhere. And, of course, the buses in Montgomery were segregated.

Bus Hecklers

It was a stroke of genius to boycott the buses. It threatened the bankruptcy of the city’s lifeline, hitting business owners right in the wallets. Those business owners demanded pushback, and that pushback came: harsh and violent. Shots were fired, bombs hurled. But the good guys prevailed, the desegregation of the Montgomery buses became an early victory in the battle for civil rights, and the entire movement was off and running. This victory led to a few other incidents — some peaceful, some violent — that got the attention of the White House, eventually leading to the passage of the Civil Rights Act in 1964.

History likes to tell us it was state & local governments that kept the oppression of slavery alive through unjust Jim Crow laws, and that’s true. History also likes to tell us it was the KKK and a slew of police and sheriff’s departments who enforced those laws with indiscriminate brutality, and that, too, is true. But history likes to forget that the engine of oppression, the true power behind the throne, the thumb that the Black man had to live under in order to put food on the table, was American business, small and large. All those diners and music halls; department store soda counters; baseball stadiums; newspapers and radio stations; and transit systems: they’re the ones who truly kept racism alive. They’re the ones who called the cops if Black people were walking by their front door too slowly, or sat on a bench to rest. They’re the ones who funded the reelection campaigns of the city councils and legislatures who passed those laws. They’re the ones who fueled hate with conspiracy theories and false narratives in their newspapers and on their radio programs. And they’re the ones who took advantage of an entire race by paying them lousy wages for hard work by ensuring there were no other opportunities.

Waiting for a Segregated Bus

Dr. King and all the others who marched, protested, and caused good trouble in the Civil Rights movement were brave beyond measure. They stood up to centuries of contempt, threats, abuse, legal trickery, violence, and outright murder, and the country came out better for it. It saddens me to no end to see all those hard-won gains be lost today, due to the machinations of a new cadre of oligarchs, the politicians they bankroll, and the brownshirts radicalized by their media empires.

I’ll be retiring soon, and I hope to devote my time in opposition to what is happening in this country. My one, big hope is someone comes along to show us the way, like Dr. King showed us in 1955.

I have a feeling such a person is not coming. We’re going to have to do this on our own.


Links:

Martin Luther King, Jr. National Historical Park

David J. Carrow

Important Historical Protests

The Rise of America’s Broligarchy

Mammoth Cave National Park, Kentucky

I was a freshman in high school when I was introduced to Dungeons & Dragons. I was smack in the middle of the target demographic for Gary Gygax’s brainstorm. I read a lot of Greek myth as a boy (I was more fascinated by Odysseus and Bellerophon than I was by dinosaurs). Rankin-Bass’ 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘏𝘰𝘣𝘣𝘪𝘵 introduced me to Tolkien’s 𝘓𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘙𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴, which I read voraciously and repeatedly. The 𝘚𝘪𝘯𝘣𝘢𝘥 movies came out in the prior decade and hit rerun television so often I almost knew them by heart. Then, of course, there was 𝘔𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘺 𝘗𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘏𝘰𝘭𝘺 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘭 (Ni!). Between a deep understanding of these pop-culture references, my coke-bottle glasses, and a total lack of athleticism, it was inevitable I’d play D&D. It was the perfect fit: a social activity that required imagination, a propensity for dick jokes, and math. Lots of math.

Lots of other things, too.

One of D&D’s milieus is the underground. “Dungeons” is in the name, after all. Not just creepy basements under spooky castles, but vast networks of deep tunnels; expansive caverns housing fantastic cities; underground rivers filling huge underground lakes; all filled with horrific monsters and evil civilizations. One of my favorite adventures was Descent Into the Depths of the Earth. You play a band of heroes (of course), hot on the trail of evil underground-dwelling elves called “drow”. Traversing miles of tunnels, wide enough for trade caravans, you search for clues in warrens of troglodytes, and negotiate with schools of walking, cannibalistic fish-men called “kuo-toa”. Danger lurks around every dark corner. Adventurers succeed or die gruesome, horrible deaths. Great fun.

:slrrgrrlph: Have you read “The Watchtower”? :slrrgrrlph:

Of course, it’s all fantasy. All these fictional worlds, whether Dungeons & Dragons, or Riftworld, or Middle Earth, or Pandora, or whatever, are fantastic places that can’t possibly exist. Physics, gravity, geology, hydrology: they simply don’t work that way. You can’t have flat planets, you can’t have floating islands, you can’t fly a dragon to the moon, and you can’t have huge underground cities connected by caravan-wide tunnels.

Or can you?

Websites around the world proclaim this or that to be the “world’s biggest” or “world’s best”, but you rarely believe such exaggerations. There’s always disappointment, always overselling, always that feeling of being let down, just around the corner. But when I went to the original natural entrance of Mammoth Cave, a gaping maw at least 30’ wide, I knew this was, indeed, something special.

Natural Entrance

The cave system contains over 400 miles of passages, with more being discovered every year. Some of these passageways are 30’ wide, and tall enough for a school bus. Many of them are easy walking (constructed walkways mostly for accessibility and protecting fragile formations). Deeper down are the windy, spelunk-worthy crawl-ways, but there’s also an underground river where they used to offer boat tours! It’s hard to explain how large and fantastic these caves are without seeing them, and unfortunately I didn’t have a digital camera all those years ago when I toured. I’ll throw links at the bottom of this post, you can see for yourself the scale of the thing.

You Are Here

I love letting my imagination run wild when I go to these places. How can you not envision pre-Columbian Lakota buffalo hunting when you visit Big Sky Country? How can you not imagine great whaling ships when you visit New Bedford, or the struggles of Martin Luther King when you walk the streets of Birmingham, or immense alien spaceships while standing in the shadow of Devil’s Tower? Or drow and kuo-toa whilst inside Mammoth Cave?

I still play D&D from time to time. It hits differently than it used to, of course, but it’s still fun to get together with a bunch of like-minded nerds to roll dice and tell dick jokes and swing vorpal swords at green dragons. It’s cheaper than playing poker, beats sitting around a bar ruining your liver, and there’s nothing but crap on all these streaming services anyway. If you can’t be in the woods, on a mountain overlook, or deep in a cave system, grab some dice and roll up a gnome illusionist.

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Links:

Mammoth Cave National Park

MCNP: Natural World Heritage Site

Google Maps: MCNP

Nerds Only

Grit, Savvy, and Determination

Maggie Walker was quite the character. 

In 1878, teenaged Maggie joined the Independent Order of St. Luke in Baltimore, a benevolent organization that tended to the sick and aged, and promoted humanitarian causes. By 1899, she was leading the organization to increased membership and financial solvency, with chapters spreading across the country, all while maintaining its core mission.

In 1903, she founded the St Luke Penny Savings Bank. The goal was to provide an institution for saving and lending for use by the underclass, served so little by traditional banks. She later served as chairman of the board for the Consolidated Bank and Trust Company, when Penny Savings merged with two other Richmond-area banks.

What’s most remarkable about Maggie Walker’s ambition and success wasn’t that she was a women in the business world in a Southern state at the dawn of the 20th Century. It’s that she was a Black woman in the business world in a Southern state at the dawn of the 20th Century. This is the Jim Crow era, and even if it was during a lull in Ku Klux Klan activity, it was still not a great time and place to be a Black man in the business world, much less a Black woman.

Maggie L Walker

Maggie Walker succeeded in the way most successful African-American businesspeople did in that era: she provided services to her own. The St Luke Penny Savings Bank served the Black community in Richmond, providing a safe place for savings, fair transactions, and financing for a variety of businesses endeavors. If the greater business community wouldn’t give them a fair shake, they would make their own fair shake. The Richmond African-American business community thrived due to their collective grit, savvy & determination.

This happened all across the country: New York City, Washington, Oakland, Tulsa, even Birmingham, Alabama. Richmond was known as “The Harlem of the South”, and the Jackson Ward area, which includes Maggie L. Walker’s home (protected by the National Park Service) and other landmarks (like the Hippodrome Theater). It’s a cool place to visit.

MLW National Historic Site

Tales of the Forgotten

I recently read A Black Women’s History of the United States by Daina Ramey Berry and Kali Nicole Gross. It recounts the struggle of Black women from the earliest days of colonialism. Isabel de Olvera came to the Americas so early, in fact, she was actually a free person. In 1600, she petitioned local officials in Mexico for affirmation of her rights. She was suspicious, and rightly so, that she would be subject to violence or captivity whilst on an expedition to New Spain. She demanded an affidavit proclaiming her status as a free person. The remaining 400 or so years has been a continuation of those demands, clearly with mixed results.

A Black Women’s History covers this entire era, from 1594, when a person described only as a “mulatto woman” made her way to present-day Kansas as part of the Francisco Leyva de Bonilla expedition (where they were all likely killed by the local Kitikiti’sh people) to Shirley Chisholm’s run for President in 1972. I shouldn’t have to say the history of Black women has been fraught with sadness, but it’s also full of grit, savvy, determination, and especially courage.

The worst part of it all, though, is the history of Black women is also full of forgetfulness, or, more accurately, inconsideration. Frankly, nobody cared, and nobody documented. Sure, figures like Rosa Parks and Harriet Tubman get their due, but beyond that, how many famous African-American women can you name (outside of entertainment figures like Oprah Winfrey or Billy Holiday)? Fortunately, A Black Women’s History is here to introduce us to many.

This is not just a collection of stories, however. The authors also describe the chain of oppression formed from the links of womanhood. Imagine a world where your own personal freedom defined the freedom of your children, where your own progeny could not have their escape because you were guaranteed to not have yours. Yet that’s what the colonial — and later national — policy of partus sequitur ventrem (‘that which is born follows the womb’) meant. Imagine being a mother and learning you’re pregnant under such a system.

If you have a fondness for American history, I suggest you add A Black Women’s History to your reading list. Otherwise, you’re missing a part of the story.

[I visited Maggie L Walker NHS before I had a digital camera. Pictures here are courtesy of the National Park Service.]

Links:

Maggie L. Walker National Historic Site

9 Historic Black Neighborhoods That Celebrate Black Excellence

The Story of the Chitlin’ Circuit’s Great Performers

A Black Women’s History of the United States (Amazon)

Moving Forward

It’s oddly gratifying to see a National Park Service site in an old mill town. The Rust Belt — that swath from Wisconsin to New England — was the backbone of the Old Economy. Once full of manufacturing and industrial innovation, fueling the greatest economic expansion of the last millennium, much of that area is now a forgotten shell of its former prosperity. Poverty, decay, and rust (in both the literal and metaphorical sense) plagues so many of these cities. We’ve forgotten about them, having long-since moved to well-groomed suburbs, freshly carved from farmland or forests, with clean water and clean air and clean dirt lining clean playgrounds. But these old cities still exist, and millions still call them home, pollutants or no. Lowell is no exception.

Lowell National Historical Park preserves Suffolk Mills, part of New England’s great textile operations. Dominating the industry since before the Revolutionary War, textile mills built up dozens of Massachusetts cities, only to abandon them when the Great Depression hit. These mills provided millions of jobs over the intervening 150 years, for young women looking to improve their dowries, to Portuguese immigrants looking to start a new life. The work could be dangerous in the time before OSHA, but industrial work transformed the U.S. into a post-agricultural society and created the middle class.

As an old-technology geek, I loved the machinery. Large, whirring wheels, tying belt to spindle. Great, thrumming rows of looms, weaving cloth for use in everything from colonial army topcoats to the uniforms of the Black Sox. Unlike metalworking machines, the sound of the wood and cotton is quite comforting, and would make an awesome ASMR recording for insomniacs. If you’re ever north of Boston, take some time and visit Lowell NHP, it’s pretty cool. Then visit some local artists at http://www.artsleagueoflowell.org/. It’s where I picked up Clyde here.

Side note: downtown Lowell is divided by numerous canals. I visited in the dead of winter (in the time when winters were actually cold). I could only imagine the fun kids must have had ice skating all throughout the town, the canals certainly seemed to form the perfect ice. Was sad I didn’t bring my own skates (although local law enforcement probably wouldn’t be too impressed).

Book Report

In preparation for this blog post, I read a book that certainly tickled my fascination with machines and innovation. The Most Powerful Idea in the World, by historian William Rosen, takes you through all the ins and outs of the greatest leap forward mankind ever took. Rosen weaves (lol) a wide tapestry of broke English monarchs, pretentious Italian aristocrats, clever child’s toys, dangerous steam explosions, and the most clever lawyer in history to explain how mankind changed from a collection of hard-toiling farmers and hammer-swinging blacksmiths to a car-addicted society of immense leisure. This is a great book, a great retelling of how it all happened. I think it should be required reading for freshmen engineering students.

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Links

Lowell National Historical Park

Slater the Traitor and the rise of New England textiles

Western Avenue

www.william-rosen.net

The obituary of William Rosen