Darlene Clark Hine - The Black Chicago Renaissance

The Black Chicago Renaissance

Edited by DARLENE CLARK HINE and JOHN McCLUSKEY JR. MARSHANDA A. SMITH, Managing Editor

THE NEW BLACK STUDIES SERIES

Edited by Darlene Clark Hine
and Dwight A. McBride

A list of books in the series appears
at the end of this book.

2012 by the Board of Trustees
of the University of Illinois
All rights reserved
Manufactured in the United States of America
1 2 3 4 5 C P 5 4 3 2 1
This book is printed on acid-free paper.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
The Black Chicago Renaissance / Edited by
Darlene Clark Hine and John McCluskey Jr.
pages cm(The New Black Studies Series)
ISBN 978-0-252-03702-3 (hardback)
ISBN 978-0-252-07858-3 (paper)
1. African American artsIllinoisChicago20th century. 2. African AmericansIllinoisChicagoIntellectual life20th century. 3. Arts and societyIllinoisChicagoHistory20th century. 4. Chicago (Ill.)Intellectual life20th century.
I. Hine, Darlene Clark, editor of compilation. II. McCluskey, John, editor of compilation.
NX512.3.A35B595 2012
700.8996073077311dc23 2012014384

In Memory of Dr. Murry N. DePillars
(December 21, 1938May 31, 2008)

Murry N. DePillars made a unique contribution to this volume. Dr. DePillars historicizes both artistic creations and the shapers of the Black Chicago Renaissance in ways that differ from those of several writers in the volume. Rejecting the more common 193250 period as defining the Black Chicago Renaissance, DePillars identified two waves or cycles that shaped the contributions of visual artists to the Black Chicago Renaissance, 191441 and 194160. The question of periodization will continue, especially the precise beginning and end points, as it will in defining any renaissance anywhere. However, Dr. DePillars supports his claims by introducing a comprehensive roster of African American artists who were born, lived, or studied in Chicago. In form and intent, his essay approaches the encyclopedic.

Murry DePillars limits his theorizing about a Chicago School of African American visual art. Rather he introduces contemporary readers and scholars to those artists who were recognized nationally and internationally during the first half of the twentieth century for their talent and commitment to representing black people as they lived their specific realities. With equal verve and insight, DePillars introduces those who have been dismissed, neglected, or forgotten by art and cultural historians. John McCluskeys several marathon-length conversations with DePillars demonstrate clearly DePillarss capability of writing a distinguished book-length work, or two, on this period had he chosen to do so. DePillarss essay highlights the works of individual artists and the political and social contexts of their compositions. He was determined, as he often said, to shake the trees for others to help gather the fruit for closer individual examinations in the future. And shake he did! We dedicate this anthology to the memory of friend, collaborator, and inspiration Dr. Murry N. DePillars.

Tucked away in the footnotes of jazz history, [Lil] was an afterthought to the life of her husband, Louis Armstrong

JAMES DICKERSON

J. M. MAHLUM

The blue sounds of Memphis

the bent chords and flattened

thirds, fifths, and sevenths;

the robust riffs that sway the night into

night caps

cigarettes &

negligence

ease past W. C. Handys house,

Father of Blues and St. Louis Blues too

and spill down the blocks of Beale Street

past pearl-draped girls with swept-high curls,

gentlemen with slurred words, and laughs

laced with absinthe and whiskey, where

classically-trained, nine-year-old Lil,

(never Lillian),

waits to hear and pocket its rhythm

before Dempsey (her mother) can slam

the windows, muffle the devil, and pane the sin.

Dempsey demands [music lessons]

decides [Chicagos cold would

dampen even the devil]

and disowns [not yet]

Lil shelves sheets of

Fare thee-honey Blues,

Moonlight Echoes &

Goodnight Angeline

scaling their melodies across

invisible ivories that tangle her thoughts

in clefs and chords, notes only she can hear

even the silence has cadence.

Rumors propagate like peat fire

beneath employee

blatherings

smoke breaks &

solicitude

at State Streets Jones Music Store, south side:

whisperings about

a new New Orleans Creole Jazz Band;

a meeting between Ms. Jones and Lawrence Duh;

and an audition.

The wind shuffles Lils worries: swish

swoosh ah, swish swoosh ah;

optimism flits, severs free.

She sits at the black-buttoned bench

with feigned moxiecomposing confidence

with each inhale like she composes

harmonies in her hums

and swivels her slender frame toward

the songless mantle: eighty-eight rectangles

polished and primed.

What number are [we] playing

and what key is it in?

Key? What key? Lawrence said.

When you hear two knocks just start playin

Lils fingers hover hungry above the

parallels of stacked black, sharp with flats,

and fall into attention

with the shine of Dreamlands spotlight,

ripping keys into new octaves,

shredding sounds until they scream,

battering pedals to the floor

throttling chords until their lingering

breath fades into audience applause.

From nine to before one, she became Hot Miss Lil,

a ninety-pound, high-heeled hybrid:

her petal light fingers too quick to settle

for more than a measure,

her hard-pounding hands too strong to let

any note escape its fated sound:

sanguine cheeks kissed once each

by fans she let close enough

prohibitions attractive attraction,

addiction;

let stay, let stay,

let in the crowds.

Night stirs early as the sky puddles

into a haze of blackest-black.

Her band, his band.

His 21-year old smile.

Her 24-year old laugh.

Fall flakes the ground in scissored stems;

he offers his coat, she pulls it close,

collar to nose.

Whistled riffs blend into swirling

powder-sugared wind and dip the air in

rhythm and rhyme

she tosses her hair, he straightens his tie.

Hes diffident, she advocates,

advertises,