School Days 1963-1964

My grandson Johnathan started third grade today. When one reaches that stage of life one often hears the statement from elders "I was your age once" Now I've reached the stage that I'm the one making that statement.

One never knows at what age or stage in life impactful events will occur in one's life I know this: There are not too many years that impacted my life like my third grade year.

It was in my third grade year where my Dad beat me for flunking math. Gave me a black eye. In today's world Dad would have faced charges but this was 1963-64. Then such events were swept under the rug. I remember going to school and having to lie as to what happened. "I fell" was the common excuse.

Mom did take him to court in an attempt to have his visitation rights revoked. Dad had the better lawyers. I hated to see my Mom so upset and I was aware that as a result of this beating,I may not be able to see my Dad again. Not the greatest position to put a young kid in.

Though spankings were an especially common practice in black households, the memory of that incident kept me from ever laying a hand on Rose.

It was in third grade where I had my introduction to baseball. I wasn't very good. I was pretty much a guaranteed strike out. That tendency didn't make me a popular figure amongst my classmates and it was just my luck in a game deemed the third grade championship game that I would come to bat in the last inning with the bases loaded and two outs. When I struck out, I had a group of boys charging me. My gym teacher protected me from punches meant for me and upon hearing rumors that a group of boys planned to beat me up after school for striking out decided to escort me home.

I became a fan of baseball, most notably the New York Mets,a team I could relate to because they were terrible. The ringleader of the attempt to beat me up was given a choice of teaching me how to play or face suspension. He chose the former. The story of those baseball lessons from him is for another time. I eventually became good at baseball,good enough to be a starter on my high school varsity team. Always played with a chip on my shoulder and boos or negative comments on my play served as added motivation.

I was in Miss Amato's third grade classroom on November 22,1963 when news of President Kennedy's assassination hit. In my own way given the beatings and would be beatings, I could relate to what must have been the hatred towards JFK for someone to put a bullet to his head. At the same time, given the outpouring of love and grief towards him,I reasoned he must have been doing some good.

In watching the four days of live television following the assassination, I concluded I had what it took to run for President and from that day till the day I dropped out of college,it became my aim.

My hope is that Johnathan's third grade year is less traumatic

On this Day June 27,1986

 On this day in 1986: Rose's mom who'd I'd regularly would beat with ease in our arm wrestling contests seemed to acquire superhuman strength during labor. Her hand felt like a death grip with every contraction.

Rose seemed like the only black baby born at St Joseph's Hospital that day. I had no problem picking her out in the nursery.

In the news,riots hit Denver's Five Points neighborhood and the New York Mets were in 1st Place. Within hours of her birth, Rose and I were watching the Mets on TV. I told her "Better get used to this"
And That's the Way It Was June 27 1986

Thoughts on May 19th

 

As I sit and meditate on the anniversary of the premier of my first play Malcolm X meet Peter Tosh, I cant help but to dwell on the reality of how with some of our lives changing and defining moments occur quite unintentionally.

Prior to joining a writer's workshop at the Playwrights Center, I had never written anything creatively. I had been an essayist and columnist for my college newspaper writing political commentary and music reviews but it had been years since I had done any of that type of writing. I joined the workshop not to write a play but just to be around other writers in the hopes of jumpstarting the writing I had done previously.

Malcolm X meet Peter Tosh was the first thing that came out of my pen after 8 years of a writers block inspired by political consciousness, reggae music and plenty of marijuana. While I was happy to see something come out of the pen after all these years, with a reading scheduled to take place at the Playwrights Center and with such Penumbra Theater luminaries such as Marion McClinton, Terry Bellamy and William "Byrd" Wilkins scheduled to attend the reading, I wasn't willing to embarrass myself. If this was going to be bad, I was ready to stop the charade and throw the script in the trash. I read the script to my roommate Mitch Olson and told him if he felt it was bad to let me know now. He said to bring it to the reading.

I've thought about the "What ifs?" There's a part of me that believes if the reading of the Playwrights Center's African American writers workshop had taken place at the Walker Art Center as was scheduled, I would have left it at that..like I said I became part of the workshop to get my writing juices flowing again and that was accomplished.  The Walker Art Center cancelled the reading. Reason given? None of the works they said adhered to "standard theatrical fare" With the various "offbeat" works that have appeared at the Walker and we got cancelled because we didn't fit some standard?? Malcolm X meet Peter Tosh was never meant to meet some standard. As a result of that cancellation, I rewrote the script. The initial script knowing a Walker reading was forthcoming only had references to marijuana. Peter Tosh wasn't afraid to  burn a spliff anytime anyplace,. now the Peter Tosh character smokes 5 in the course of the play.

What if we put this event on and no one showed?? While members of the Playwrights Center workshop were to take part at the event, Mitch and I signed a contract with the Cedar Cultural Center to put on a Tribute to Malcolm X on the occasion of his birthday? and we were the ones to be held financially responsible should attendance be less than a certain amount. Malcolm X talked about a dangerous creation being one with nothing to lose. Mitch and I had nothing to lose. This came at a time when for different reasons life seemed to be falling apart all around us. What was a little more debt going to do to us?

What if we were to get arrested? After the Walker cancellation, I decided everything about this play was going to be REAL including the 5 spliffs the Peter Tosh character was to smoke. Knowing that getting arrested might be a possibility, Mitch and I spent as much time plotting escape routes should the cops show up as we did learning our roles. (I portrayed Peter Tosh that first year and Mitch portrayed "The Man on the Couch") We were the two likely to get arrested as the script called for both of our characters to smoke onstage Our escape plans were made with the assumption that maybe 30-40 people would come to the Cedar that night. When I saw the full house,I said to Mitch "I think we're going to jail tonight"

Life did change from that moment on. Malcolm X meet Peter Tosh went on to run in Denver and at Colorado State University in Fort Collins Colorado. It arrived in Denver at the time when the battle for marijuana legalization was heating up in Colorado. I had advocated its legalization as a candidate for Mayor of Denver years before but this was bringing it to an all new level by bringing it onstage. I guess it was inevitable that once the play landed in Colorado,it would cross paths with the Peter Tosh of American legalization in Ken Gorman. Those paths led to attendance records for theater at the Mercury Cafe, a near arrest in Fort Collins, and when the play ran for a second year at the Bug Theater in Denver, Ken and three other people in the audience were arrested for smoking marijuana in the audience Read the headlines in the theater section of the now defunct Rocky Mountain News "Bug's Malcolm X sends Audiences Smokin''  It brought to the theater an audience that on its own would largely not be drawn to theater.

I would not have imagined having the opportunity to bring my work on stages across the US and in Europe,nor would I have imagined working with Marley Archivist Roger Steffens or opening for Dub Poet Linton Kwezi Johnson. not to mention present day journeys into roots storytelling which has brought me into contact with the likes of Charlie Parr. I was told by someone connected in the theater world that by going renegade at the Cedar,I may never see another stage in Minneapolis again. I never imagined that over 20 years later that I'd still be creating but here I am..

There's another thing that play changed. Given much of the rancor between Rose's mom and myself ,my relationship with Rose was seemingly going on a downhill trajectory. Malcolm X meet Peter Tosh changed that trajectory and here's how: Rose as a kid loved plays. She battled illness once to participate in a first grade play. Rose was excited when she learned her Dad was putting on a play. That in itself was defying the narrative on me being taught her. She got to attend some of the rehearsals and liked many of the cast members. (No marijuana was smoked at those rehearsals) Needless to say she wanted to attend the event at the Cedar. She got to attend but the next day instead of being picked up by her mom,her clothes and toys were dropped off on the West Bank and just like that,I'm a full time parent living in the Holtzermann Building on the West Bank.

Today as a result of that trajectory beginning to change from that day,I get to enjoy three grandkids!

4/20/21

 Yesterday began like a typical 4:20 Day..took my daily walk smoking a fat one and coming home to eat a marijuana infused edible. Last year Covid killed any public 4:20 events but since returning to Colorado, I havent participated in any 4:20 events. 4:20 in Colorado since legalization has become very commercial with no recognition of the political struggle or of those individuals (like the late Ken Gorman) that made Colorado a pioneering cannabis state. I was sitting in my apartment with no plans to go out when I got a text from my friend Valerie stating she was at the bar and wanted to know if I would come down. Valerie and I generally meet up once a week at the bar. Normally we meet later in the week, but I have plans to see the grandkids in Fountain this weekend, so I agreed to meet her there. Seemed like it was 10 seconds after I agreed to go when word came that the verdict would be coming down in the Chauvin trial. For a split second I thought about changing my mind about going to the bar, but then I thought it might be better to not be alone when the verdict came down. Also, the bar happens to be just a few blocks from Colorado's State Capitol, should Chauvin get off, any action in protest would likely take place there and the journalist in me would be there to report it. Besides,my bus stop home is across the street from the Capitol.

Denver's Nob Hill Inn is 5 blocks away from the State Capitol. It's located on Colfax Ave, a street with a reputation of being "lively" Every city seems to have at least one bar on one street or in one neighborhood that when you mention it,eyes are immediately raised. In Minneapolis it would be Lake Street and even a better description would be Lake Street of the '80s. Nob Hill Inn is a dive bar in the classic sense..cheap beers and a cast of characters ,some interesting and others you probably wouldnt want to know outside of the bar. Closest comparison would be the Palmer's of my West Bank days..edgier than present day Palmers. During the pandemic when only bars and restaurants that had patios or bubbles could be open,"The Nob" as its called put tables and chairs that could seat 10 people in the back alley. Since the uprising following George Floyd's murder, the front door and windows have been boarded up and while most places in Denver are not boarded any more the owner is fine with people knowing its open only by word of mouth and having to go to the back door in order to enter,in addition to it being a dive, there's the sense of a 1930's speakeasy added to it now.

I arrive at the bar about 20 minutes before the verdict is to be announced. Regulars at the bar call me "Minnesota" since I've been dubbed that,I often go to the Nob wearing my Minnesota Gophers sweatshirt or my Palmer's hoodie. Yesterday it was the Palmers hoodie. Maybe I gave it away by my face because the words were the same but there was a different tone to the greeting I received when I walked in. "How you doing Minnesota?" Reggie, an older black man and a regular asked me again "Are you sure?" I dont think the question came because I was stoned as there's a good chance I would be stoned any number of times I've been there. The TV was on CNN quietly in the background and music from the jukebox was blaring. After I got my beer,Angie the bartender announced that the jukebox was going off and the volume on the TV would be turned up when the verdict was to be announced. This didn't go over well with one of the regulars but one cardinal rule at the Nob is you dont want to mess with Angie. She's friendly as bartenders go but can be tough as nails. A bartender working at a Colfax Ave bar has to be. One clue of her toughness..she's a Trump supporter and a Raiders fan working a Denver bar. When the verdict came on and the person complained she told him where he could go. I had my bases covered as I was switching between Unicorn Riot and KARE 11 (a local Minneapolis TV station) on my phone. The bar got quiet. I think however even with social distancing at the bar probably everyone heard the pounding of my fist against the bar with every guilty charge. Nob Hill Inn broke out in applause after the verdict was announced. Angie the Bartender declared "Justice was Served" I sat stunned for a moment..then began sobbing I hadnt finished my first beer at that point. Couple folks made sure I had a couple more beers before leaving. It was quiet in front of the Colorado State Capitol when I caught my bus home..

January 20,1965

 

 

The story of January 20th 1965 began for me at my 10th Birthday Party on January 4th 1965,but in many respects, it all started long before that birthday party.

 Mom was a booster and organizer for Hartford's Democratic Party. Her main role was organizing Hartford's Black Professionals to support Democratic candidates with money and giving tips to Democratic candidates as to where to campaign in Hartford's black neighborhoods as well as which businesses to make appearances at. During campaigns the Daniels household would be full of campaign literature and meetings at the house. Mom was also a member of the Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority (Yes,Kamala Harris' Sorority) and that was a serious organizing tool in itself.

Mom's influence within the Democratic Party would be even more apparent when we'd spend our summers in Washington DC. 2 or 3 times during the summer, we'd visit the US Capitol and spend time watching the Senate and House in action.  Seemed like all Mom had to do was to tell a staffer of Connecticut's Senators that Helen Daniels was here and it seemed like whether they were in committee meetings or on the Senate floor, both Connecticut Senators, Thomas Dodd and Abraham Ribicoff always found the time to say hi to her. Senator Ribicoff knew my mom by her first name! 

In 1964,Mom screamed with delight the moment when President Lyndon Johnson named Minnesota Senator Hubert Humphrey as his Vice Presidential candidate. Hubert Humphrey was Mom's political hero stemming from the time when as Mayor of Minneapolis,he fought for the adoption of a pro Civil Rights plank in the Democratic Party Platform. Humphrey's speech is regarded as being a prime factor in the Civil Rights plank being adopted and causing a walkout of most of the Southern delegates.

With Hubert Humphrey on the Democratic ticket, Mom's work went into overdrive. I remember Mom being responsible for bringing both Senators Dodd and Ribicoff to my elementary school's PTA meeting. There was little doubt that the Johnson-Humphrey ticket would win.

My 10th birthday party was not your typical party for a 10 year old. There were no birthday games to be played. There was not a lot of room for a kid to run around. My 10th birthday party was held in a meeting room at an Italian Restaurant in Downtown Hartford. 

 The reason for a 10 year old's birthday party being held in a meeting room of an Italian Restaurant?

In the days following November 22,1963,I had determined that I wanted to become President of the United States. This goal was met by ridicule by friends and classmates alike. The one person who supported that goal was Mom. Mom didn't see it as an impossible goal. "You can do anything you want if you put your mind to it" came out of her mouth often and that applied to my future run for the Presidency as well. Mom was active in the Civil Rights Movement as well and in 1965 at the time of my birthday party, the thought of a Black President seemed far fetched to most. The only thing Mom conceded to the times was that I'd have to work harder for it than white people. Mom even laid out to me what I'd have to do. First, I'd have to keep my grades up, Then,it would be best to get enrolled in an Ivy League School. Yale or Harvard. After you graduate,you should perhaps go to Law School and become a lawyer. A lot of Presidents she said were lawyers.

My goal of becoming President meshed well with Mom's activism. Mom knew that if we spent all day at the Capitol that I wasn't going to start screaming that I was bored and wanting to go home. She didn't mind if I listened in on some of her meetings at home. She even once took me to a cocktail party where some politicians were to be in attendance.  The most memorable occasion with my mom and one of the most memorable days in my life was when Mom took me to the 1964 Democratic Platform Committee meeting. On this day, I was given a press tour by an NBC Correspondent, met Dr. Martin Luther King, nearly literally ran into Robert Kennedy and had lunch with Connecticut Secretary of State Ella Grasso,later to become the first ever woman elected Governor. In keeping with Mom's support of my goals,she knew this Italian Restaurant was a favorite hangout spot for Hartford's politicians,so she set up my 10th birthday party to be held there.

Had the most amazing spaghetti and meatball dinner and whether Mom arranged it beforehand or he just happened to be at the restaurant at the same time, Hartford Mayor George "Pete " Kinsella showed up at the party to congratulate me as well as to say a few words to the other adults that were in attendance.

Mom saved the best surprise for last however. I got books clothes and toys for my birthday, but Mom's came in 2 envelopes. I opened the first envelope. It was an Airline Ticket on Eastern Airlines from Hartford Connecticut to Washington DC. This was to be my first experience on an airplane. I opened the second envelope. In the second envelope was an invitation to attend the Inauguration of Lyndon Johnson and Hubert Humphrey. Mom had earned it from her work on behalf of the Johnson-Humphrey campaign. She had also been invited to one of the Inaugural Balls around DC,but that was going to be her adult time for later. Attending the Inauguration was Mom's birthday present to me.

We left from Bradley Field, Hartford's airport on an Eastern Airlines flight to Washington DC January 19th. I was afraid to be on a plane. I never liked it when I was in cars I felt were going too fast and I did have a fear of heights. There was no convincing needed when it came to putting my seat belt on. When the plane began to takeoff, I began to hold on to my seat. As the plane gained speed,the hold became a grip and when the plane took off, my seats were being held in a death grip and I my eyes were closed. My heart began beating quickly as the plane made its various maneuvers and I'd refuse to open my eyes when my mom would try to point out sights that could be seen from the air. I settled in and settled down once the plane hit its cruising altitude but reverted to mode terrified upon descent and once again missing the sights of DC Mom was trying to point out to me.

I was always used to being in Mom's car driving to my Grandparent's house in Washington DC. Having a cab take us there was a whole new experience. I think for a moment Mom wished she had driven to DC as she caught the cab driver taking the longer routes to my Grandparents house. I imagine many a cab driver with the Inauguration descending upon DC that there would be a number of tourists who wouldn't know their way around, meaning a larger fare. This wasn't going to work with Mom, a Washington DC native. It was quite the tense ride to the house, but we got there.

It was different being in Washington DC in the winter as opposed to our usual summertime time stay. For one,it was only Mom and myself on this trip. My other brothers remained in Connecticut under the care of my Grandmother, meaning unlike in the summer, my Grandfather would not be spending time with his wife. Secondly, instead of putting a short sleeve shirt along with shorts that would be soaked within a half hour due to the knockout combination of heat and humidity,I was putting on thermal underwear in preparation for attending the Inauguration Ceremony and parade.

It was cold January 20th 1965 and the area where we were seated was packed. I couldn't see a thing. Seemed like there was a lot of prayers and  what's been deemed "patriotic" music. There were speakers everywhere so you could hear what was going on well. A kind man sitting next to Mom and me promised to let me use his binoculars when Lyndon Johnson was being sworn in. He also offered the use of his binoculars to Mom when Humphrey was being sworn in. Mom turned them down. I think she had a thing against the use of binoculars for some reason. As a kid activity, Mom would often drive us to Bradley Field to watch the planes take off. She never used binoculars and although she'd allow us boys to use the scopes at the airport,she never used them herself. I can imagine her wanting to see Humphrey sworn in with as natural a look as possible.

I did get a decent view of LBJ as he was getting sworn in. It helped that the man who handed me his binoculars get in front of him It wasnt a close up a view had I watched on TV ,but just a couple people away meant there were fewer people blocking my view.

We had a better view for the Inaugural Parade. What used to be the tradition for the parade was that the Governors of each state would lead its states portion of the parade, usually including a float, high school band or choir. The tradition would then be for people in the audience to stand up and cheer when your state's float passed. By 1964,I thought to myself Alaska was going to be my best path to the White House. From the Jack London stories and the various documentaries I had watched,I gathered Alaska to be a welcoming place for outsiders and misfits. By the time I was 10 years old,I had already experienced enough ridicule and bullying that I knew if that continued,I had no political future in Connecticut, Alaska seemed like the place where I could be me and not be ridiculed thus giving me a better chance of getting elected. I told Mom I would stand up when Alaska's group would go by.

The parade went by alphabetical order. Alabama was led by its Pro Segregationist Governor George Wallace I heard so much about Wallace I wanted to see him close up to see if he had horns or not. At the 1964 Democratic Platform meetings I attended with Mom, George Wallace was scheduled to speak shortly after Martin Luther King. There was no way I was going to convince Mom to be in the same room with Wallace. I thought this might be my chance,but alas his car went by covered up.

I stood up when Alaska's small contingent,led by Governor William Egan passed by. I didnt notice any others standing,but unlike Wallace, Governor Egan had his top down and was waving to the crowd. What I gathered from that was a Governor of Alaska is less likely to get shot at.

The biggest contingents in the parade seemed to come from Eastern and Midwestern states where it was easier to bring large groups to Washington as well as Texas because y'know, LBJ wouldn't have it any other way.

Minnesota despite having a Vice President being inaugurated had a modest contingent led by Gov. Karl Rolvaag. Mom was disappointed. She was hoping they'd do something to honor Humphrey.

We both stood up for Connecticut's contingent led by Gov. John Dempsey. No big deal however. Gov. Dempsey was another politician who would recognize Mom when their paths crossed.

Despite wearing thermals,I was pretty frozen by the time the parade ended and we returned to my Grandparents house. When we returned Mom had to start getting dressed for the Inaugural Ball she was invited to.

Mom being away for the night meant a night spent with my Grandfather. Normally my brothers would be around but this was different. I cant remember what we did that night,but chances are it was either me listening to his various stories,some of which I'd heard before but he'd share them anyways with many having a moral undertone to them OR him watching All Star Wrestling which he knew I hated but he'd watch it any way.

The next day Mom and I flew back from Washington DC to Bradley Field, just outside of Hartford. Once again the death grip was applied to my seat at both takeoff and landing and again my eyes remained shut throughout. 

Our next door neighbor,Mr Clark met Mom and myself at Bradley Field and drove us back home..