Amiri Baraka’s New
York Times obituary acknowledged the public’s ambivalence toward the poet
earlier known as LeRoi Jones. He was, the reporter Margalit Fox wrote in her
lead paragraph, “a poet and playwright of pulsating rage, whose long
illumination of the black experience in America was called incandescent in some
quarters and incendiary in others.”
Amiri Baraka |
I’m going to share some of this diatribe, which I wrote up in
my journal that day, but first a little context is in order. Baraka’s
appearance came on Oct. 19, 1984, toward the end of the campaign between
President Ronald Reagan and former vice president Walter Mondale. Jesse Jackson
and his Rainbow Coalition had made a minor burst earlier that year during the presidential
primaries.
I was a 38-year-old Nieman Fellow at Harvard. A student publication
had asked me to write a piece comparing college students in 1984 with those of
my college days. I went to see Baraka in part to observe the students’ reaction
to him.
I had already done some reporting for this piece, speaking
with veteran professors about the changes they had seen among their students.
One involved how current students read and regarded Henry David Thoreau’s Walden.
Like many early boomers, I had made a pilgrimage to Walden
in the early ’70s. Although I was a little disappointed to find the pond itself
a suburban recreation area rather than a remote spot in the woods, this didn’t
detract from my interest in Thoreau. For me, he was someone who had plumbed the
meaning of life, the foibles of humanity and the particulars of nature, all in
an American context. He still had something to say.
The first thing you noticed when you entered the upstairs
classroom in Sever Hall where Baraka spoke was a table full of trinkets and
pamphlets for sale. It reminded me of the shilling that used to go on at Elvis
Presley concerts.
Not too many students came, and the ones who did seemed to
expect to be amused.
Baraka warmed to this task. He saw himself, in his art and
in his politics, as a black revolutionary. He professed to believe that on the
day black people ceased to think equality was coming, America would burst into
flames. Ever since its peak in the 1960s, he said, the black movement had been
marching lockstep backward. What was missing was “a fist of popular
organization to smash monopoly capitalism.” Instead, too many young people were
embracing the Know-Nothing conservative right and the “raucous jingoism” of
Ronald Reagan.
Despite reservations about Jesse Jackson, Baraka said Jackson
had provided “a spark of life where none existed.” At least he had moved the
campaign to the left. He was certainly preferable to “Ben Vereen dancing for
Ronald Reagan” and Me Generation television viewers seeing blacks as “middle-class
folk,” butlers, pimps and “the little black kid with white parents.”
Reagan and Mondale debate in 1984. Baraka professed to see them as "two murderers coming at you in the night. " |
The candidates were “two murderers coming at you in the
night,” Baraka said. The difference was that Reagan was slicing your jugular
vein with a razor before you knew it while Mondale knocked on the door and
talked to you “like some kind of magazine salesman or something.” You turned
your back and he took out his razor, but by this time you had your crowbar in
your hand.
1984 Democratic candidates (from left): Gary Hart, Walter Mondale, John Glenn. George McGovern, Jesse Jackson. |
My journal captures a too simple reaction on my part to
Baraka’s appearance. I had been in Augusta during the 1970 race riots and the ensuing days of martial law there, and I understood the anger that caused the
uprising. But my own reading of recent history was that non-violence had
achieved far more for civil rights than fire in the streets. As for Baraka, he had just turned 50 when I saw him but seemed
like a relic. He clung to a distorted view of the past, spoke out of bitterness
and made stark metaphors to shock and provoke.
He also misread his audience or, possibly, didn’t care what
the students thought. They cheered and applauded certain turns of phrase, but
the idea of any of them taking to the streets “to smash monopoly capitalism”
was ludicrous. Their anxieties were about finding their places in the system,
not changing it.
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