Memories of A Sunday Kind Of Love

I love this song by Etta James, "A Sunday Kind of Love." I loved it so much that I gave the title to my Sunday night show on WHCJ at Savannah State University (College in my day) in Savannah, Georgia in the early 90s. I was on-air every Sunday evening from 8:00 p.m. - 12 midnight. It was one of the few commitments that I would keep on a weekly basis for more than 3 years. That's how I knew that it was true love. It lasted longer than any of my campus relationships.


Although I have moved on with life and married, I still think about that commitment now and then; of course, it is usually on Sundays as 8:00 p.m. approaches. Back then, I would jump on my bike with my sack of choice music and glide on over to the station. Once that big hand hit the 8, I'd hit play and on came... "Summer Madness" by Kool and the Gang. I know. Why didn't I use Etta? Well, I thought that it would be too obvious. Plus, "Summer Madness" was a great music bed while I introduced myself and the night's show:


Good evening. You're listening to Savannah State radio, WHCJ-90.3 FM. This is your host, Stephen Bess, and thank you for joining me this evening for another edition of "A Sunday Kind of Love." Please, just sit back and relax and I will take care of the rest...


Man, I loved it! Yes, those were good times. I will never forget those days. I enjoyed some quiet times every Sunday night in that campus studio. I took request and talked to friends of the station over the phone. Once in a while, I even received a visit from a friend on campus. However, most of the time it was just me and the microphone. Well, now that those days are behind me, I just listen to Ms. Etta sing as I reminisce of "A Sunday Kind of Love" at WHCJ radio. Those were good times. Good night everybody.

Frantz and Russell: In Memoriam

“…If I were asked for a definition of myself, I would say that I am one who waits; I investigate my surroundings, I interpret everything in terms of what I discover, I become sensitive.”Frantz Fanon, “The Fact Of Blackness” Black Skin, White Masks (1952, trans. 1967)

I first heard of Frantz Fanon during my sophomore year at Savannah State College in 1990. I was an English major taking Shakespeare and Dr. Russell Chambers was my professor. We were having a class discussion about the Bard’s play, The Tempest. Dr. Chambers began to discuss the characters, Prospero and Caliban, in relation to what Fanon stated about the slave system in the Americas. Fanon said that the white man that supported this system had the “Prospero Complex.” In other words,“What the colonial in common with Prospero lack, is awareness of the world of Others, a world in which Others have to be respected.”
Chambers stated emphatically that the black man is the “Caliban” of the world. He is seen as the uncivilized brute who only wants to defile Miranda, the daughter of Prospero. Miranda represents the masters prized possession, his white woman. I was impressed!

Dr. Chambers was an interesting man. He was originally from Michigan, but had studied and lived in both Europe and Africa. He seemed to know all there was to know about African/African American literature and black culture across the Diaspora. He could also quote the metaphysical poet, John Donne, or the 16th century French philosopher, Michel de Montaigne. I saw him as a scholar and I admired him a great deal as a professor. “Fanon was a student of the Negritude Movement,” Dr. Chambers would state as he sucked the saliva that was forming around the corners of his mouth. “He was a brilliant young black man from the Island of Martinique!” Dr. Chambers would always become excited when he presented students with new information. He would become quite animated, and it usually caused a giggle or two.

The feelings about Dr. Chambers were mixed because there were students who appreciated his knowledge as a professor and they learned from him. There were others who despised him simply because he was a white man teaching at a historically black college. I feel  they were ashamed because someone like Dr. Chambers could tell them more about their own culture than they knew themselves. Nevertheless, Dr. Chambers inspired me to be an independent scholar in training. I graduated from college and started my own quest to find out all I can about Fanon, Stephen Biko, John Henrik Clarke and others that Dr. Chambers taught me about. My degree in English gave me the confidence and understanding to even comprehend what Fanon was saying in his essays.  Dr. Chambers is still a professor at Savannah State College (now University) and I am sure that students are still talking about that “stuff” in the corner of his mouth. I am also certain that there are some like me who admire him as a teacher and a scholar. Thanks Dr. Chambers!

Today is Frantz Fanon’s birthday. He would be 81 years old. He died in 1961 at the age of 36 in a Washington, D.C. hospital with complications from Leukemia. Two of his most famous works, Black Skin White Mask and The Wretched Of The Earth were translated into English after his death.Learn more about Fanon and his work by clicking on the title post.

Sources:“The Fact Of Blackness” Black Skin, White Masks (1952, trans. 1967)http://www.raceandhistory.com/

http://www.english.emory.edu/Bahri/Fanon.html  

Originally posted:  July 20, 2006

Note:  Dr. Russel Chambers passed away at his home on Friday, October 14, 2011.  I spoke with him just a day before he died.  

Back in the day

This a newspaper clip of me on college radio back in the day (90s). That's me on the microphone. I'm in good company with fellow dee jay Michael Wayne Swanston(left) along with Jazz historian and station manager Theron "Ike" Carter.

By the way, I took some pictures on my trip south. Check them out on Flickr. Peace~

Freestyle Fellowship: The Rebirth of Cool

FREESTYLE FELLOWSHIP Inercity boundaries
Video sent by madafonka2

Freestyle Fellowship is an old school favorite from 1993. I was in my junior year of college and a Jazz disc jockey on local radio stations WEAS/WHCJ in Savannah, Georgia. This song was featured on a cd I had back then titled, The Rebirth of Cool. The cd also featured acid jazz guitarist, Ronny Jordan and alternative Hip Hop artist, MC Solaar of France. I still have it in my collection and it has withstood the test of time.

Margaret Walker: Stolen Moments

I want to write

I want to write
I want to write the songs of my people.
I want to hear them singing melodies in the dark.
I want to catch the last floating strains from their sob-torn

Throats.

I want to frame their dreams into words; their souls into

Notes.

I want to catch their sunshine laughter in a bowl;
Fling dark hands to a darker sky
And fill them full of stars
Then crush and mix such lights till they become
A mirrored pool of brilliance in the dawn.
By: Margaret Abigail Walker Alexander (1915-1998)

It was a beautiful spring day in 1989 on the campus of Savannah State College in Savannah, Georgia. I was an enthusiastic 22-year-old freshman. My major was English with a minor in parties and freshman girls (Yeah, I was something else back then). I was strolling the yard one fine day in April when I noticed a small crowd gathering outside of the Fine Arts Building. The program had just started and the host of the event introduced a poet and a novelist by the name of Margaret Walker. Now, I had never heard of Ms. Walker and pondered over why she was never mentioned in any of my English classes in High School? She stepped up to podium and greeted the small and eager crowd who reciprocated with smiles and applause. I smiled and clapped as well before knowing exactly who she was and what she had accomplished.

Ms. Walker began to speak and she told us all about her journey as a woman, a mother, and a writer. She spoke with grace and a beautiful smile that remained as she told her story. She also told us how she began to write at an early age and sparked the interest of a young poet named Langston Hughes. Hughes became her mentor and encouraged the young writer to continue her relationship with the pen. I was in awe of her accomplishments and especially her role as a Black woman in literature. She paved the way for so many and I had never even heard of her.

The program was soon over and the host thanked the crowd and informed us that Ms. Walker will be signing copies of her novel, Jubilee immediately after the program. I had to say hello! I quickly got a copy of the book and stood in line to get it signed. The line was moving quickly. As I got closer, I noticed that Ms. Walker had a little system: She would smile, greet, reach for the book, ask your name, sign the book and say “thank you.” Now it was my turn! Ms. Walker smiled, said hello and reached for my book. I extended my right hand to shake hers. Her smile grew wider and I said, “I really enjoyed hearing you speak today Ms. Walker. It would be a pleasure to shake your hand.” She shook my hand and said, “Thank you, what is your name son?” I told her my name and she signed my book. She gave me my book and I said, “Thank you, Ms. Walker.” She smiled and replied with, “you’re welcome.” I’ll never forget that moment. Ms. Walker would go on to live for another 9 years, but that moment will remain with me forever. Thank you Ms. Walker.

Photo Source: newsreel.org

Brother Malcolm

"Look at yourselves. Some of you teenagers, students. How do you think I feel and I belong to a generation ahead of you - how do you think I feel to have to tell you, 'We, my generation, sat around like a knot on a wall while the whole world was fighting for its human rights - and you've got to be born into a society where you still have that same fight.' What did we do, who preceded you ? I'll tell you what we did. Nothing. And don't you make the same mistake we made...." (Malcolm X 1925-1965)

I wanted to dedicate my blog today to one of the greatest figures in American history. I was not always an admirer of Malcolm. I was in elementary school when I first learned of him and the Nation Of Islam. I didn't like them; they seemed to be filled with hate and my young mind could not understand why? I had not yet learned or experienced the cruelty of racism my ancestors knew so well. "Why did he hate so much," I would ask myself? Unfortunately, I don't remember any teachers who were willing or knew how to clarify his position in simple terms.

My education about Malcolm X came after I left the Navy in 1988. I passed by my hometown of Washington, DC headed up to New Haven, Conecticut. I didn't realize at the time that there was a new awakening concerning the legacy of Malcolm X and the smoke screen that the media had created was beginning to disappear. I first learned of my black heritage through a store clerk at a shop called The Third World in New Haven. He sold literature, buttons, incense and everthing under the Black Sun related to the African diaspora. He told me things about Black history and Black people that would change my life forever. I purchased some things and left that shop a newborn. The music changed too. The youth were now chanting "Fight The Power" to the beat of Public Enemy while I prouldly wore my new Black Medallion that I picked up from the shop in New Haven. This new serge of Black pride was, of course, offset by the rise of Crack cocaine. Crack would eventually win the battle. Drug dealers became rich during those years (1989-present). This was especially true in the early 90's. The times were bitter sweet for me.

I became a freshman in 1989 at an HBCU (Savannah State College), and the knowledge of my history began to soar! This instilled in me a great pride and I really felt on top of the world with this "new" found information. I also read The Autobiography of Malcolm X. It was then that I found out the truth about who Malcolm was; It inspired me. I was even more thrilled when Denzel Washington brought Malcolm to life on the big screen. Malcolm X was released in 1992 by Spike Lee. It prompted an entire generation (appropriately called the "X Generation") to learn more about the man we called Malcolm X. So, on his 80th birthday I would like to give honor to one of the human races most valiant soldiers. In the words of Ossie Davis let us remember him for what he is, ".......a prince—our own black shining prince!—who didn’t hesitate to die, because he loved us so. " Peace~