- [Announcer] The following program, "blacks, Blues, black!"

is made possible by a public service grant from the Olympia Brewing Company.

(man singing in a foreign language) - Hello, my name is Maya Angelou.

In this program we're going to discuss art and literature, black art and black literature.

This piece is very interesting.

It's a piece of Makonde sculpture from East Africa, from Tanzania, and from Mozambique.

The Makonde are a people who live in East Africa.

This looks very modern.

It is modern art.

It's modern, not only figuratively, it's modern literally.

No piece of Makonde sculpture is over 20 years old.

So what we see here in the, in the surging popularity of Makonde sculpture is a revival of a culture, as opposed to a survival of a culture.

Now, I don't know how well this is coming across.

You see this, this left hand here.

It extends down to the base of the statue.

It implies that the hand of man is such an important tool that it can really, it does extend to the foot.

You can see the suggestion of fingers there.

The Makonde have lived in East Africa, in Mozambique, and have moved into Tanzania and even, in fact, I'm told in Kenya.

Their work, however, although they were known as good sculptors, and they did an imitative kind of work, imitating the West African sculpture, but about 20 years ago, they began letting their creative juices flow.

And they've come up with some beautiful, beautiful work.

We have some as a result of a gift, a loan, from a Mr. Trevor Hoy in the East Bay.

Let's look at some of the work.

(gentle conga drum music) That piece we are seeing now is, is a piece of sculpture indicating, representing a spirit.

At the base of the piece, there is a figure, upside down.

It is said that the Makonde represent the dead ancestors by showing figures that are upside down.

The piece flows so well though.

The head flows so well into the chin of that mouth that it's hard to tell where one starts and the other stops.

The grace of the head, when you look at the piece once removed from it, it looks like a diver, the body of a diver.

There are very strong family ties among the Makonde, and, in fact, they have kept their culture so intact that even with the influence of Christianity, as we see in this piece, the kind of mother and child European Judeo-Christian concept, there's still the African influence.

I mean, it really controls the work.

The Makonde sculptors work in ebony.

This is a revival too because for quite a few years, hundreds of years, they worked in softer woods, not really because it was easier to work in them, but because the pieces of work had only to last for a ceremony or for a number of ceremonies.

But now, they're selling the work, and tourists, especially Westerners, want things to last and last and last.

We have very few names of these sculptors.

Although most of them are alive, they're unknown, and they remind me of the great poets in black American history who wrote such beautiful poetry that was later put into spirituals.

There's a poem by James Weldon Johnson.

"Oh, black and unknown bards of long ago, "how came your lips to touch the sacred fire?

"How in your darkness did you come to know "the power and beauty of the minstrel's lyre?

"Who first from amidst his bonds lifted his eyes?

"Who first from out the still watch "lone and long feeling the ancient faith "of prophets rise within his depth, dark kept soul "burst into song?

"Heart of what slave poured out such melody as ♪ Steal away, steal away ♪ "On its strains, his spirit must have nightly floated free "though still about his hands he felt his chains.

"Who heard first great Jordan roll, "Whose starward eye saw chariot swing low?

"And who was he that breathed that comforting melodic sigh ♪ Nobody knows the trouble I've seen ♪ "Not that great German master in his dream of harmonies "that thundered amongst the stars.

"Not he ever heard a theme nobler than ♪ Go down, Moses ♪ "mark his bars.

"How like a mighty trumpet call they stir the blood.

"Such are the notes that men have sung "going to valorous deeds.

"Such tones there were that helped make history "when time was young.

"There is a wide, wide wonder in it all "that from degraded rest and servile toil "the fiery spirit of the seer "should call these children of the sun and soil.

"Oh, black slave singers gone, forgot, unfeigned, "You, you alone, of all the long, long line "of those who've sought, sung untaught, "unknown, unnamed, have stretched out upward "seeking the divine."

(gentle conga drum music continues) The importance of the mother, the matrifocal fact, carries throughout the whole African continent.

The sculpture is done by men only.

It's very much as in West Africa.

The women are not allowed to play the drums.

There are, in Ghana particularly, especially the religious drums.

Well, the sculpture is done by men, but they recognize the importance of the mother and they hold her in respect and love.

Not making her out of con, not taking her out of context and making her the most important person in the family structure, but a loved and functioning member of the family.

This piece, we see again the importance of the family.

The sculpture, sculptor has hewn out of this ivory, I mean, out of this ebony piece of wood, leaving enough of the raw wood, untouched wood, to let us see the solidity of the family.

Africans say the family is the, is the backbone of the nation, the very structure itself.

And I think the Makonde, this particular sculptor, has really caught the spirit of the family.

(gentle conga drum music continues) There's a close connection between those who have died, those who are alive, and those who are yet to come in African myth tradition in the very lives so that we see that that figure we're looking at now is a dead ancestor, but there's a connection between that figure and those living ones.

As you see, the hand turns, the right hand turns into the leg of the living figure.

Life is one unbroken line.

We all touch each other at some point.

Things grow out of and into.

(gentle conga drum music continues) Beautiful work.

There are black American sculptors.

Not as many as I hope will, will show up on the world stage in the next few years, but the sculpture and the paintings in the black American world have not really gotten the kind of support from the community that I personally would like to see.

There's an art gallery in San Francisco, the black Man's Art Gallery, and they have a statement.

I suppose it's their statement of being that I found very exciting.

They said, "They are."

They exist.

And in that very simple statement that I can't, I don't have it totally here, but in their statement, they suggest in their very being as a haven for black arts and black artists' work, they include all life.

It's a beautiful statement, and it's in San Francisco.

We went to see.

We went to Hayward.

We went to talk with a Mr. James Bircher, who is a black American painter and who held an exhibit down there.

- Thank you, Maya.

Today, we're going to look at some of the paintings in our exhibit that we've selected, and we also have present three of our artists that are exhibiting here.

Mr. Ben Hazard, Mr. Claude Clark, and myself.

Now, we're going to talk about the works, and I'm going to begin with Mr. Clark.

Sir.

- Thank you, brother Bircher.

The painting you see here of the fishermen is one of the earlier paintings that I did more than 20 years ago, to be exact about 1946.

What we have here is a sponge fisherman, the type of man that would go out from the Gulf and dive into the Gulf Stream to collect sponges, natural sponges.

And the suggestion you have on the back of the boat there would be the sponges.

Now, this was done quite a few years, maybe five or six years, before I did the one over here of the man in the tropics running in out of the rain.

I saw this happening one afternoon during a downpour, and actually what I did, I scribbled down a sketch.

I made a sketch immediately.

And as these people ran past the house getting out of the rain, I noticed one of the black men in the group looking out, smiling, and I knew that he knew that this was the first time I'd seen this.

And I thought at the time that maybe this was just a happening, single happening, but after the rain stopped, I went into town, and I noticed outside of every door a large banana leaf.

So I realized that rather than buy a banana, or buy a an umbrella, the person would just take what nature gave and come in out of the rain that way.

All my life I've concerned myself with the black image, and it doesn't matter what age it might be, what year it might be, it's what is happening at that time.

And I prefer to act as more or less a reporter about the things that are happening among black people around me.

This painting I call "Solstice," and it was done several years after the one you just saw called "Rain in the Tropics."

And in this painting I'm closer to an expression called non-objective expressionism, but if you look very carefully, you'll notice that there is a suggestion of a couple of figures in the painting.

So, I haven't gotten away from the black image that I have been interested in all my life after all, even though I've come pretty close to another type of expression.

In this sense, I feel that I have in a sense caught up somewhat with the present generation and some of the things they're interested in.

At the same time, from another point of view, I feel that there is a link between the next generation.

Now, speaking of the next generation, here we have a graphic art done by Claude Lockhart Clark.

This is our son who was born at the time that I was taking care of my own work and doing what came naturally, and he did what came naturally as he grew up.

This is a painting.

This is a work he calls "Psych."

And in the the picture he has a gypsy going about the art of telling fortunes.

The other painting he calls "Metamorphis."

And speaking of blackness here, he seems to be interested in what revolutionary people are doing, and here you have a group of people doing what is necessary to get whatever is necessary to achieve.

We will have fellow artists say something to you now.

Ben Hazard.

Thank you.

- Thank you, Mr. Clark.

My concern with the art from a black point of view has been directed mainly to what's happening in America today.

This painting called "Equal" represents the ambiguity of the society.

By that, I'm using color to represent the background, which is supposed to be a social approach, and the human approach is represented in black and white.

And I would like to go now to one of my lithos, which is called "The Struggle," which is self-explanatory.

But society here is represented by the darkness around it, and the force represented by this white space.

Now, this painting here is called "Two Children," and it represents their social approach to manhood, which is represented like a computer system here on the top half, where the boy is surrounded by these different approaches from the computer's point of view.

And the bottom half of it, which has a girl on it, is represented by the more uniform control put out by the computer.

And that represents like the female's usually gonna be a mother and have a family and this approach.

But then I have a purple dot on the left hand side, which would show that this does not necessarily make a true statement, where the boy, again, on the top, he has a choice of being a doctor, lawyer, Indian chief or the like.

Now, as you notice, the boy's hand is in the painting, and this I feel is a necessity whenever you're trying to give a statement about a boy because his hand is just as much of his facial expression as his face itself.

Now, over here we have a lithograph again, and this one is called "Our Window."

And this represents two children being part of the environment and making the best of it.

Now, this litho here is called "Bird with Dead Mate," and it was a result of the death of Martin Luther King and in the local area, the death of Bobby Hutton, and about the same time, of approximately four to five death within the same area of black youth.

And to me it had the impression of killing of human beings as if it was like killing a bird on, during open season.

And this is my approach to this concept.

Now, this painting here is called "Medal of Honor," and this is another result from the death of Dr. King and other black people and also representing the social struggle from the riots.

In this time, they were putting new troops in the areas of rioting and new troops in Vietnam, and everybody's getting medals.

So, I felt like, well, maybe black man needs a medal too.

And this one here is represented by the repeat of the image up top here and around the edge of the struggle which you saw in the early litho.

And also you have a cutout figure here of a boy throwing a Molotov cocktail, which is my, you know, personal statement of the social conditions in the world today.

And now I'd like to give the mic back to Jim Bircher.

Thank you.

- In talking about my paintings here, we have a painting of a friend of mine, brother Shahidi, which came about sort of like an inspiration.

We were sitting around the house one evening, and I told him, well, look brother, let's go downstairs to my, and I'm gonna paint your portrait.

In about two hours time, I came up with a, kind of a spontaneous, colorful painting of my friend and a lot of good things happen.

Built up a good color relationship, and I was really satisfied with this type of thing.

And I find that the ones that you kinda like spontaneously do are sometimes the best paintings.

Now, within the painting, I've tried to emphasize a few things.

For instance, the fact that he has these sunglasses on, which is, you know, sort of what, sort of like a symbol to black people.

And I've tried to make them very pronounced along with the fact that he has a very pronounced, natural, and it kind of like fits in even though the natural is a flat, just a flat black shape.

It fits into the modeling of the face and the other colors in the painting because we feel like naturals is the way things have always should have been.

I was very happy with this painting.

We have here one that I did as an early student at Cal State, about a year and a half ago.

And I was inspired by a photograph, which was basically similar to this, but I wanted to really bring out the colors.

So, I totally changed the background of the painting and this kind of, well, some people tell me that it's fiery.

Some people say that it's subtle, but I just prefer to think of it as being colorful.

And then we have many nuances and different relationships of greens and red and just kind of like primary color relationships happening in the painting.

And together it just kind of works as a pleasing composition.

Plus the fact that he's a very happy warrior.

Here we have the work of a Panamanian black artist who is currently painting and working in the Bay Area, Barrington McLean.

Now what Barry has done here, he's taken the basis of a canvas, added relief to it and made, come up with a very pleasing composition.

It's a relationship of the shapes that he's built into this canvas, and he's added, or painted onto this, shapes that directly relate to the relief.

I think this is a very unique approach, and it's been done in sculpture and in painting, but you rarely find them combined as he's done it here.

We have here another one of Barry's canvases, and I'm not being facetious.

Facetious, that's a $10 word for you.

I'm not being facetious when I use the term canvas because it's kind of hard to describe this work as strictly a painting or strictly a sculpture.

Now, I think you find that with this piece of work, you're as interested as what's going on in the work as you are with the shape.

And it just kind of like captivates you and makes you hang in there until you've kind of like found all the things happening.

From there, I'd like to go over to one of the few paintings done by sculptor Charles Smith, who I understand is beginning to paint again, and he calls this work "Once There Lived Four Brothers," and I'd like to read this, the proverb at this time.

"Once there were, once they lived four brothers.

"One could see only, "and he had much knowledge and information, "but could never speak his mind.

"One could smell only, and there was nothing he could say.

"One could feel only, and to him everything was wonderful "and was filled with ecstasy.

"And one could hear and also speak.

"And he talked incessantly, "but never knew what he talked about "or even who, even cared who heard him."

We call this exhibit "Two Weeks in Blackness," and it's kind of like a cross section of art from Bay Area artists that was compiled in conjunction with the black Student Union at Cal State and the art department.

We have here something like 40 pieces that are on various levels, various styles and various approaches.

And through the cooperation of Mr. Clark, Ben Hazard, and the other Bay Area artists that contributed their work, we were able to come up with this collection that we have here that will be here until the 14th of August.

Thank you, Maya.

- And thank you, James Bircher.

The art of a people represents their soul.

Among black Americans, we have a few fairly well known painters.

We have Charles White, Ernie Crichlow, Romie Bearden.

These are men whose works are included in, oh, books certainly about black American artists and a few, very, very few books on American artists, but they are great artists.

We'll talk about literature.

When we discuss literature, when black Americans discuss it, of course, we must include the spirituals, the work songs.

Those are really poems, poems of great worth, great beauty, great importance.

There's a spiritual that says.

♪ I am a poor pilgrim of sorrow ♪ ♪ I'm lost in this wide world alone ♪ ♪ No hope have I for tomorrow ♪ ♪ I started to make heaven my home ♪ ♪ My mother, she's found her sweet glory ♪ Now that's literature.

That's beautiful literature.

The lyrics are, and the music is great music.

Unfortunately, we don't take enough time to listen to our creations, to realize that this is art.

Europeans, white Americans, speak of languages in Africa and say, those are dialects.

Oh, yes, what dialect do you speak?

Well, those are not dialects.

Those are languages, and the music that we've made, the blues that we sing, are great art.

And we have got to get under that music, under those poems, under those songs, and support them, understanding what we, what we have created, what has come out of us.

Langston Hughes wrote a poem some, oh, 30 years ago called "The Black Man Speaks of Rivers."

"I've known rivers.

"I've known rivers ancient as the world "and older than the flow of blood in human veins.

"My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

"I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young.

"I built my hut near the Congo, "and it lulled me to sleep.

"I looked upon the Nile "and raised pyramids above it.

"I heard the singing of the Mississippi "when Abe Lincoln went down to New Orleans.

"And I've seen its muddy bosom "grow all golden in the sunset.

"I have known rivers, "ancient dusty rivers.

"My soul has grown deep like the rivers."

Mr. Preston Webster is a poet musician, and he's going to sing, say, give us one of his poems.

His drummer is Mr. Chuck Hester, and we'll now listen to "The Era," a modern poem.

(mellow drum music) - I curse not the souls of man that in search of gold did plunder, who docked their ships on distance shores, which caused his mind to wander.

He set one ear in Africa beneath the blazing sun.

A native black came quick with fact in natural breath of run.

Another world is at our door breathlessly he'd sworn.

His skin is white.

The gods of light could only know where born.

He carries blade in hand and chops with bold display.

A vision in his eyes, he destroys to see his way.

He screams above the tone, the need be suppressed and strikes our kings from off their thrones and burns our place of rest.

He chains and tortures those who strength has lessened more and with their blood has tarred the soul and death has closed the door.

He speaks in many tongues, as one I might recall.

Friend, says he, friend, white man, friend to all.

Strange sounds this devil murmurs.

He smiles a demon smile.

Our gods fall in his mercy.

Our children fill out God.

He takes us by the hundreds and fish with open jaw.

I tell you, quick fight blood.

I came, I ran, I saw.

Before I die of wounds through pain, I warn you all take heed.

This devil from the edge of life will suffer for his deeds.

Ah, not in this era, though one era still when he's at peace through time, the arrow of truth shall strike his brain, and God shall judge his crime.

Waste no time with me, for death is honored fast.

Ye black soul shall live afront.

The future is my past.

That was my father in that era who put words in that frame.

I have no ready proof of this, except the proof of shame.

So all you white people and all you Uncle Tom blacks who think you are so free that have your pools and your Cadillacs and "My Country 'Tis of Thee."

I'm going to leave you with this message.

And baby try to think.

The whole down mess is in a white man's writing, but he had to use black ink.

- There, now that's a modern poem.

That's modern literature.

It includes, I guess, some of the space music feeling and some of the anguish, some of the reality of our history.

I have a poem that I wrote for some women in New York who are domestic workers.

"When I think about myself, "I almost laugh myself to death.

"My life has been one great big joke.

"A dance that's walked, a song that's spoke.

"I laughed so hard "I almost choke when I think about myself.

"50 odd years in these folks' world.

"The child I works for calls me, girl.

"I say, yes, ma'am, for workin's sake.

"Too proud to bend and too poor to break, "I, oh, I laugh "until my stomach ache when I think about myself.

"My folks can make me split my side.

"I laughed so hard, I nearly die.

"The tales they tell sound just like lyin'.

"They grow the fruit, but eat the rind.

(laughing) "I laugh until I start to cryin' when I think about myself."

We have written folk literature.

We have written and carried, maintained, the story of Noah and those fabulous 40 days and 40 nights.

And Miss Margaret Walker, one of our greatest poets, who is also a novelist, wrote a poem about Harriett Tubman, our fearless and fierce freedom fighter.

And the Danny Duncan dancers are going to perform that Noah and Harriett Tubman for us right now.

♪ Swing low, sweet chariot ♪ ♪ Coming for to carry me home ♪ ♪ Swing low, sweet chariot ♪ ♪ Coming for to carry me home ♪ ♪ I looked over yonder, and what did I see ♪ ♪ Coming for to carry me home ♪ ♪ A band of angels comin' after me ♪ ♪ Comin' for to carry me home ♪ ♪ Swing low ♪ ♪ Swing low ♪ ♪ Sweet chariot ♪ ♪ Coming for to carry me home ♪ ♪ Swing low, sweet chariot ♪ ♪ Coming for to carry me home ♪ - [Man] Amen.

- [Woman] Amen.

- Brothers.

- Yes.

- Sisters.

- Yes.

- Says here in the beginning, the Lord God created the heaven and the earth.

- [Woman] Amen.

- Yes, but it also says here in Genesis 6:6 that the children of Israel were sinning.

- [Women] Sinning?

- Sinning.

Sinning.

What did I say?

- [Women] Sinning.

- That's what I thought I said.

And when the Lord saw what they was doin', it hurt him to his heart.

It hurt him so bad it made him mad.

It made him so mad that he got angry.

And when the Lord got angry, the sky turned dark.

- [Women] Oh.

- And it was then that he told Noah to build the ark.

- [Women] Yes, yes.

- Who built the ark?

- [Group] Noah.

- [Leader] Who built the ark?

- Noah, Noah.

- Noah built that ark.

♪ Children ♪ ♪ Start to see ♪ ♪ Listen to me ♪ ♪ God walked down by the burnin' sea ♪ ♪ He beheld the evil of the simple man ♪ ♪ So he declared that he would destroy the land ♪ ♪ Spoke to Noah of Noah's ark ♪ ♪ Said look here, Noah, build me an ark ♪ ♪ Lord, should I build it big and strong ♪ ♪ Build it 300 cubits long ♪ ♪ 30 high, about 50 wide ♪ ♪ I want it to stand my rain inside ♪ ♪ On this day I make my mark ♪ ♪ In 100 years I want that ark ♪ ♪ When I get to it the people, land ♪ ♪ Not a livin' thing is gonna stand ♪ ♪ Except these things that I built to you ♪ ♪ 'Cause I'm gonna need 'em in a world or two ♪ ♪ I've been east, and I've been west ♪ ♪ I decided to put this world at rest ♪ ♪ I've been up, and I've been down ♪ ♪ And I've heard evil all around ♪ ♪ I've seen brother turn against brother ♪ ♪ I've decided to go no further ♪ ♪ Women weep and children mourn ♪ ♪ Sorry to say that man was born ♪ ♪ Simple people one by one ♪ ♪ Sorry to say my wrath has come ♪ ♪ Sorry to say my wrath has come ♪ ♪ Sorry to say my wrath has come ♪ ♪ It's gonna rain ♪ ♪ It's gonna rain ♪ ♪ It's gonna rain ♪ ♪ Yes, it's gonna rain ♪ ♪ It's gonna rain ♪ ♪ It's gonna rain ♪ ♪ It's gonna rain ♪ ♪ It's gonna rain ♪ ♪ And all this land is my land ♪ ♪ Not a living thing is gonna stand ♪ ♪ 'Cause it's gonna rain ♪ ♪ It's gonna rain ♪ ♪ Well, it's gonna rain ♪ ♪ It's gonna rain ♪ ♪ It's gonna rain ♪ ♪ It's gonna rain ♪ ♪ Who built the ark ♪ ♪ Noah ♪ ♪ Yeah ♪ ♪ Who built the ark ♪ ♪ Noah ♪ ♪ Yeah ♪ ♪ Who built the ark ♪ ♪ Noah, Noah ♪ ♪ Noah built the ark ♪ ♪ Well, then God told him what to do ♪ ♪ And Noah began buildin' too ♪ ♪ Bringin' in the hammer was his judgment ♪ ♪ Bringin' in the saw, God said repent ♪ ♪ 100 years he hammered and sawed ♪ ♪ Built the ark by the grace of God ♪ ♪ After the foundation was laid ♪ ♪ Came down to tell him the ark was made ♪ ♪ Brought in the animals just by twos ♪ ♪ So the ox, the camel and the kangaroo ♪ ♪ Gorilla, monkey, and a crocodile ♪ ♪ A little bitty animal that couldn't smile ♪ ♪ Packed them in the ark so tight ♪ ♪ The owl couldn't get no sleep at night ♪ ♪ All day Japheth, Shem, and Ham ♪ ♪ Saw it began to flood that land ♪ ♪ Raised his hand to heaven on high ♪ ♪ And knocked that sun and the moon from the sky ♪ ♪ Shook the mountains and stirred the sea ♪ ♪ Ditched that wind that carried me ♪ ♪ Shed those lands and stood on the shore ♪ ♪ Where the times could be no more ♪ ♪ Where the times could be no more ♪ ♪ Where the times could be no more ♪ ♪ 'Cause it's gonna rain ♪ ♪ It's gonna rain ♪ ♪ Well, it's gonna rain ♪ ♪ It's gonna rain ♪ ♪ 'Cause it's gonna rain ♪ ♪ It's gonna rain ♪ ♪ Well, it's gonna rain ♪ ♪ It's gonna rain ♪ ♪ What's it gonna do ♪ ♪ It's gonna rain ♪ ♪ How long it gonna rain ♪ ♪ For 40 days ♪ ♪ How long it gonna rain ♪ ♪ And 40 nights ♪ ♪ Who said it's gonna rain ♪ ♪ The Lord said ♪ ♪ Who said it's gonna rain ♪ ♪ The Lord said ♪ ♪ How long it gonna rain ♪ ♪ For 40 days ♪ ♪ How long it gonna rain ♪ ♪ And 40 nights ♪ ♪ Who said it's gonna rain ♪ ♪ The Lord said ♪ ♪ Who said it's gonna rain ♪ ♪ The Lord said ♪ ♪ How long it gonna rain ♪ ♪ For 40 days ♪ ♪ How long it gonna rain ♪ ♪ And 40 nights ♪ ♪ Who said it's gonna rain ♪ ♪ The Lord said ♪ ♪ Who said it's gonna rain ♪ ♪ The Lord said ♪ ♪ Well, it's gonna rain ♪ ♪ It's gonna rain ♪ ♪ Well, it's gonna rain ♪ ♪ It's gonna rain ♪ ♪ Well, it's gonna rain ♪ ♪ It's gonna rain ♪ ♪ It's gonna rain ♪ ♪ It's gonna rain ♪ ♪ It's gonna rain ♪ ♪ It's gonna rain ♪ ♪ Well, it's gonna rain ♪ ♪ It's gonna rain ♪ ♪ Well, it's gonna rain ♪ ♪ It's gonna rain ♪ ♪ Well, it's gonna rain ♪ ♪ It's gonna rain ♪ ♪ Well, it's gonna rain ♪ ♪ Yeah, yeah, it's gonna rain ♪ ♪ It's gonna rain ♪ ♪ It's gonna rain ♪ ♪ It's gonna rain ♪ ♪ It's gonna rain ♪ ♪ Well, it's gonna rain ♪ ♪ It's gonna rain ♪ ♪ Well, it's gonna rain ♪ ♪ It's gonna rain ♪ ♪ 'Cause it's gonna ♪ ♪ Rain ♪ Amen, sweet Jesus.

Mighty God.

- Mighty God.

- Blessed.

- Blessed, hallelujah.

- Amen.

♪ In this great gettin' up mornin' ♪ ♪ Fair thee well, fair thee well ♪ ♪ In this great gettin' up mornin'.

♪ ♪ Fair thee well, fair thee well ♪ ♪ In this great gettin' up mornin' ♪ ♪ Fair thee well, fair thee well ♪ ♪ In this great gettin' up mornin' ♪ ♪ Fair thee well, fair thee well ♪ ♪ I'm gonna tell you about my Bible ♪ ♪ Fair thee well, fair thee well ♪ ♪ I'm gonna tell you about my Bible ♪ ♪ Fair thee well, fair thee well ♪ (woman with mask laughing) ♪ Dark are the eyes of Harriet ♪ ♪ Darker still the face ♪ ♪ Deep in the dark of Southern wild ♪ ♪ Deep in the slaver states ♪ ♪ Darker are the eyes of courage ♪ ♪ Gone is dark and wild ♪ ♪ Bitter, bleak and hopeless ♪ ♪ Is that bonded child ♪ ♪ Down in the fields, Harriet ♪ ♪ Down along the field ♪ ♪ Down before your overseer ♪ ♪ Mad enough to kill ♪ ♪ This is slavery, Harriet ♪ ♪ Bend beneath the lash ♪ ♪ This is Maryland, Harriet ♪ ♪ You got to file the poor white trash ♪ ♪ You're in a field, Harriet ♪ ♪ Out workin' in the corn ♪ ♪ You're struggln' with the hope ♪ ♪ 'Cause you're a slave child born ♪ ♪ You're just 16, Harriet ♪ ♪ In the afternoon ♪ ♪ Your mama said, Lord, child, no ♪ ♪ Your daddy you don't know ♪ ♪ To at least survive not hard enough ♪ ♪ To kill you with the blow ♪ ♪ This piece of iron ain't hot enough ♪ ♪ To just let you slaves all know ♪ ♪ Oh, that's asleep myself ♪ ♪ I'm still behold with fear ♪ ♪ Oh, master, keep me from goin' to the jail ♪ ♪ Get up, lazy Harriet ♪ ♪ I didn't hit you hard ♪ ♪ Get up, bleedin' Harriet ♪ ♪ And bind your head ♪ ♪ Get up so, Harriet ♪ ♪ Get up and bind your head ♪ ♪ Remember this is Maryland, and we can beat ya dead ♪ (women laughing) ♪ How far is the road to Canada ♪ ♪ How far do I have to go ♪ ♪ How far is the road to Maryland ♪ ♪ And the hatred that I know ♪ ♪ I stabbed that overseer ♪ ♪ I took his rough knife ♪ ♪ I said, I killed that overseer ♪ ♪ I took his lowdown life ♪ ♪ For three long years I waited ♪ ♪ Three years I kept my head ♪ ♪ Three years before I killed him ♪ ♪ I said three 'cause I had to wait ♪ ♪ I done took the Maryland off my weary feet ♪ ♪ I'm on my way to Canada, and freedom for to see ♪ ♪ I'm bound to get to Canada before another week ♪ ♪ I come through many a fount and mountain ♪ ♪ And waited in many a stream ♪ ♪ Now you tell my brother yonder ♪ ♪ That Harriet is free ♪ ♪ I said, tell my brother yonder ♪ ♪ No more auction block for me ♪ ♪ Come down from the mountain, Harriet ♪ ♪ Come down tonight ♪ ♪ Come down to your weepin' people ♪ ♪ And be their guiding light ♪ ♪ God will pardon ♪ ♪ Don't you wanna cross over today ♪ ♪ The deep, wide river Jordan ♪ ♪ Don't you wanna walk freedom's way ♪ ♪ I know that in the nighttime ♪ ♪ I'd come back in the day ♪ ♪ I know that to my balance ♪ ♪ Decide to pave the way ♪ ♪ I met a master yonder ♪ ♪ They're comin' down the raod ♪ ♪ And write that thing in heaven ♪ ♪ From my own master's soul ♪ ♪ I passed the family's master, girl ♪ ♪ I covered up my head ♪ ♪ My master didn't know me ♪ ♪ Huh, I guess he heard I'm dead ♪ ♪ I wonder if he thought about that overseer's dead ♪ ♪ I wonder if he figured out ♪ ♪ 'Cause he ought to know my head ♪ ♪ You'd better run, Miss Harriet ♪ ♪ They got a ransom on your head ♪ ♪ Got a what on me ♪ ♪ You'd better run, Miss Harriet ♪ ♪ 'Cause they want you alive or dead ♪ ♪ Alive or dead ♪ ♪ They're ridin' through the mountains ♪ ♪ Through the mountains ♪ ♪ They're searchin' around the sea ♪ ♪ They got a posse after you ♪ ♪ Runnin' through the hills ♪ ♪ You'd better run, Miss Harriet ♪ ♪ Better run ♪ ♪ They got the blood hounds after you ♪ ♪ Blood hounds ♪ ♪ And guns out too ♪ ♪ They got guns ♪ ♪ You'd better run, Miss Harriet ♪ ♪ The white man's after you ♪ ♪ A white man's after me ♪ ♪ Got $10,000, honey, bettin' on your cold, black head ♪ ♪ Girl, they have $10,000 ♪ ♪ Girl, the man calls you a slave ♪ ♪ I'll wager they be lookin' ♪ ♪ A long, long time for you ♪ ♪ Yes, Lord, I'll wager they be lookin' ♪ ♪ 'Til judgment day is through ♪ ♪ I'm Harriet Tubman, people ♪ ♪ I'm Harriet the brave ♪ ♪ I'm Harriet free woman ♪ ♪ And I'm free beyond my grave ♪ ♪ I killed that overseer ♪ ♪ I've fooled those master's eyes ♪ ♪ I found my way to Canada ♪ ♪ But there's hundreds more beside ♪ ♪ I met the mighty John Brown ♪ ♪ I know Red Docket too ♪ ♪ Enlisted abolitionists beneath the Union blue ♪ ♪ I heard that mighty trumpet ♪ ♪ That led the land to war ♪ ♪ I'm honored, Mr. Lincoln ♪ ♪ And I'm unrefutable ♪ ♪ I'm Harriet Tubman, people ♪ ♪ I'm Harriet the brave ♪ ♪ I'm Harriet free woman ♪ ♪ And I'm free within my grave ♪ ♪ I'm Harriet Tubman, people ♪ ♪ I'm Harriet the brave ♪ ♪ I'm Harriet free woman ♪ ♪ And I'm free within my grave ♪ - That's a wonderful way for children to learn their literature.

What a beautiful presentation that was.

Thank you, Danny Duncan group.

We went to the Martin Luther King school in San Francisco and found three young men, three boys, Ricky Taylor, Timothy Norris, and Sam Scott.

They recited for us as black children do quite often the Paul Laurence Dunbar poems, and we asked them to come to the studio.

They're here today.

- "What you say there, huh, huh?

"Child, you's enough to drive me wild.

"Want a story?

"Just said that.

"Where I get a story at?

"Didn't I tell you three last night?

"Go away, honey.

"You ain't right.

"I got somethin' else to do "besides just tellin' tales to you.

"Tell you just one.

"Let me see what that one's gonna be.

"When you's old, your memory fail.

"Seems like, I don't know no tales.

"Well, sit down in that chair.

"Keep still if you wanna hear.

"Take that chin up off your hand.

"Sit up nice, now goodness land.

"Hold yourself up like your Pa. "Bet nobody ever saw him scrunch down like you was then.

"High-tone boys make high-tone men.

"Once there was an old black bear "Used to live around here somewhere, in a cave.

"He was so big he could carry off a pig "like you pick a chicken up or a little bitty pup.

"And he had two great big eyes "just about a saucer size.

"Why, they look like balls of fire "Jumpin' around up on a wire.

"When that bear was mad, an 'laws, "but you oughta seen them paws.

"Did I see 'em?

"How you expect I gonna recollect "this old yarn I'm tryin' to spin, "if you keep on puttin' in?

"You keep still, and don't you creep.

"Lest I send you off to sleep.

"This here bear go trompin' around "eatin' everything he found.

"No one can have a farm, but that bear doin' harm.

"And they couldn't catch the scamp.

"Anyway, he wanted to tramp.

"That there scoundrel make his tracks "do his dirt and come on back.

"He was such a sly old limb.

"Tracks was just like fun to him.

"Now down there where Mr. Bear lived, "there was a weasel there, "but they wasn't friends at all "'cause the weasel was so small.

"And the bear was just for sass "turn his nose up when he passed.

"Weasel's small of course, but my, "them there animals are sly.

"So this young one says, says he, "'I'll fix that bear, you see?'

"So he fixed up a plan, and he hunts up the farmer man.

"When the farmer see him come, "he missed lookin' mighty glum.

"So he catches up a stick, but the weasel speak up quick.

"'Hold on, Mr. Farmer Man, I wanna explain a little plan.

"'If you wait, I'll tell you well "'just how you can catch that old bear.

"'But I tell you now you must "'give me one fat chicken first.'

"Then the man scratch his head "last he say, 'I'll make the trade.'

"So the weasel ate his hen, "smacked his mouth and says, 'Well then, "'set your trap and bait tonight.

"'I'll catch that bear, all right.'

"Then he up some goes to see.

"'Mr.

Bear,' says he.

"'Well, friend bear, we ain't been friends, "'but tonight hard feelings end.

"'If you ain't too proud to steal, "'we can get a splendid meal.

"'Cause I wouldn't come to you, "'but it must be done by two.

"'It's a trap, "'but we can beat all the tricks and get the meat.'

"'Course I'm with you,' says the bear.

"'Come on, weasel, show me where.'

"Well, they tromps along until "that there meat began to smell.

"In the trap, then weasel say, "'Now you put your paw this way "'while I hold the spring back so.

"'Then you grab the meat and go.

"Well, that bear, he had to grin "as he put his big paw in.

"Then he jerks up, but kerbing.

"Weasel done let go of the spring.

"Then now says the weasel there, "'I done caught you, Mr.

Bear.'

"Oh, that bear he snorted and snout "tried his best to get out.

"Then the weasel say, 'Goodbye.'

"Weasel small, but weasel sly.

"Then he turned his back and run.

"Show the farmer what he'd done.

"So the farmer come down there with an ax "and kill the bear.

"There now, ain't that story fine?

"Run along now, nevermind.

"Want some more, you rascal, you?

"No sir, no sir, that'll do."

- (chuckling) Reminds me of being eight or nine or 10 or something.

We'll close this with a bit of Margaret Walker's poem "For My People."

This is "For My People."

"Let a second generation full of courage issue forth.

"Let a people loving freedom come to growth.

"Let a beauty full of healing "and a strength of final clenching "be the pulsing in our spirits and our blood.

"Let the marshal songs be written.

"Let the dirges disappear.

"Let a race of men now rise and take control."

I thank you.

(man singing in a foreign language) - [Announcer] The proceeding program, "Blacks, Blues, Black!"

was made possible by a public service grant from the Olympia Brewing Company.