Aaron Favors, James Rogers, Fred Woodard, and Vinnie Bell "An Appreciation of Langston Hughes" reading and discussion at the University of Iowa, July 1967

Speaker 1: The broadcasting service of the University of Iowa, in cooperation with the Department of English and the Afro-American Studies program at the University, presents a series of programs on Afro-American Culture. These programs are presented as background material for the course Afro-American Literature. Today, Aaron Favors, James Rogers and Fred Woodard, graduate students at the University of Iowa, and [Vinnie Bell], honor student at Rust College, will present readings form the works of Langston Hughes. And later in the program, will discuss the poet's life and works. This program was produced at the University of Iowa in July of 1967, during Afro-American History Week. James Rogers: The Negro Speaks of Rivers. James Rogers: I've known rivers. I've known rivers ancient as the world and older than the flow of human 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 the 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 turn all golden in the sunset. I've known rivers. Ancient, dusky rivers. My soul has grown deep like the rivers. James Rogers: The author of the poem I have just read, James Langston Hughes, the Negro poet, novelist, playwright and satirical social critic, died May the 29th, 1967, in a Harlem, New York hospital. Born February 1st, 1902 in Joplin, Missouri, Langston Hughes, as he is popularly known, was internationally recognized as one of America's greatest poets. James Rogers: In his 65 years of life, he enjoyed the comradeship and respect of such outstanding literary figures as Gertrude Stein, Ernest Hemingway, Richard Wright, Jean Paul Sartre, George Bernard Shaw, and others. James Rogers: Langston Hughes, a prolific writer, wrote, produced, or collaborated on over 30 volumes of short stories, stage plays, poetry, theatrical pageants, and articles. Among his works were Not Without Laughter, The Ways of White Folks, Laughing to Keep from Crying, Simple Speaks His Mind, Tambourines to Glory, and The Glory of Negro History. Two of his plays, Tambourines to Glory and Black Nativity, have been staged and produced in Europe, South America, Africa, and Japan. His nine volumes of poetry have been translated into more than 20 languages. I am James Rogers, graduate student in the Writer's Workshop. James Rogers: Today, I have as guests here in the WSQI studio, three individuals eminently qualified to read from and discuss some of literary works of Langston Hughes. They are: Fred Woodard, poet and graduate student, Poetry Workshop; Aaron Favors, PhD candidate, Speach Pathology; [Vine Bell], honor student majoring in English at Rust College in Holly Springs, Mississippi. James Rogers: Mr. Woodard. Fred Woodard: Freedom's Plow. Fred Woodard: When a man starts out with nothing, when a man starts out with his hands empty but clean, when a man starts out to build the world, he starts first with himself and with the faith that is in his heart, the strength there, the will there to build. First in the heart is a dream. Then the mind starts seeking a way. His eyes look out on the world, on the great wooded world, on the rich soil of the world, on the rivers of the world. The eyes see there materials for building. See the difficulty, too. The obstacles. Fred Woodard: The mind seeks a way to overcome these obstacles. The hand seeks tools to cut the wood, to till the soil, to harness the power of the water. Then, the hand seeks other hands to help, a community of hands to help. Thus, the dream becomes not one man's dream alone, but a community's dream. Not my dream alone, but our dream. Not my world alone, but your world and my world, belonging to all the hands who build. Fred Woodard: But not too long ago, ships came across the sea bringing pilgrims and prayer makers, adventurers and booty seekers, free men and indentured servants, slave men, slave masters, all new to a new world: America. With bellowing sails, the galleons came bringing men and dreams, women and dreams. In little bands together, heart reaching to heart, hand reaching out to hand, they began to build our world. Fred Woodard: Some were free hands, seeking a greater freedom. Some were indentured hands, hoping to find their freedom. Some were slave hands, guarding in their hearts the seed of freedom. But the word was there always: freedom. Down into the earth went the plow, and the free hands and the slave hands, the indentured hands and the adventurous hands, turned the rich soil with the plow that planted and harvested the food that fed, and the cotton that clothed America. Clang against the trees went the ax into many hands, that hewed and shaped the rooftops of America. Splash into the rivers and the seas went the boat hulls that moved and transported America. Crack went the whip that drove the horses across the plains of America. Fred Woodard: Free hands and slave hands, indentured hands, adventurous hands, White hands, Black hands, held the plow handles, ax handles, hammer handles, launched the boats and whipped the horses, that fed and housed and moved America. Thus, together the labor. All these hands made America. Labor. Out of labor came the villages, and the towns that grew to cities. Labor. Out of labor came the row boats, then the sail boats and the steamboats, came the wagons and the coaches, covered wagons, stage coaches. Out of labor came the factory, came the foundry, came the railroads, came the marts and the markets, shops and stores, came the mighty products molded, manufactured, sold in shops, piled in warehouses, shipped the wide world over. Fred Woodard: Out of labor, white hands, Black hands, came to dream, the strength, the will, and the way to make America. Now it is me here, and you there. Now, it's Manhattan, Chicago, Seattle, New Orleans, Boston, El Paso. Now, it is the USA. A long time ago, but not too long ago, a man said, "All men are created equal, endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, among these: life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness." His name was Jefferson. There were slaves then. But in their hearts, the slaves believed too and silently took for granted that what he said was also meant for them. It was a long time ago, but not too long ago, that Lincoln Fred Woodard: It was a long time ago, but not too long ago, that Lincoln said, "No man is good enough to govern another man without that other's consent." There are slaves too. But in their hearts, the slaves knew what he said must be meant for every human being, else it had no meaning for anyone. Then a man said, "Better to die free than to live slave." He was a colored man who had been a slave, but had run away to freedom. And the slaves knew what Frederick Douglass said was true. Fred Woodard: With John Brown at Harper's Ferry, Negroes died. John Brown was hung. Before the civil war, days were dark. And nobody knew for sure when freedom would triumph. Or if it would, thought some. But others knew it had to triumph. In those dark days of slavery, guarding in their hearts the seed of freedom, the slaves made up a song. "Keep your hand on the plow, hold on." That song meant just what it said: hold on. It will come. Keep your hand on the plow, hold on. Out of war it came, bloody and terrible, but it came. Some there were, as always, who doubted that the war could end right. That slaves would be free, or that the Union would stand. But now, we know how it all came out. Fred Woodard: Out of the darkest days for our people and nation, we know now how it came out. There was a light when the battle crowds rode away. There was a great wooded land. And men united as a nation. America is a dream. The poet says it was promises. The people say it is promises that will come true. People do not always say things out loud, nor write them down on paper. The people often hold great thoughts in their deepest hearts, and sometimes only blunderingly express them, haltingly and stumbling say them, and faulty put them into practice. People do not always understand each other. But there is, somewhere there, always the trying to understand, and the trying to say, "You are a man. Together, we are building our land." Fred Woodard: America. Land created in common. Dreams nourished in common. Keep your hand on the plow, hold on. If the house is not yet finished, do not be discouraged, builder. If the fight is not yet won, do not weary, soldier. The plan and the pattern is here, woven from the beginning into the warp and woof of America. All men are created equal. No man is good enough to govern another man without that other's consent. Better die free, than to live slave. Who said these things? Americans. Who owns these words? America. Who is America? You, me, we are America. To the enemy who would conquer us from without, we say no. To the enemy who would divide and conquer us from within, we say no. Freedom. Brotherhood. Democracy. To all the enemies of these great words, we say no. Fred Woodard: A long time ago, an enslaved people heading toward freedom made up a song, "Keep your hand on the plow. Hold on." The plow plowed a new furrow across the field of history. Into the furrow of freedom, the seed was dropped. From that seed, a tree grew, is growing, will ever grow. That tree is for everybody. For all America. For all the world. May its branches spread and its shelter grow until all races and all people know its shade. Keep your hand on the plow. Hold on. Vinnie Bell: Dream Variations. Vinnie Bell: To fling my arms wide in some place of the sun. To while and dance till the white day is done. Then rest at cool evening beneath a tall tree while night comes on gently, dark like me. That is my dream. To fling my arms wide in the face of the sun. Dance, whirl, whirl, till the quick day is done. Rest at pale evening beneath a tall slim tree, night coming tenderly, Black like me. Vinnie Bell: Cross. Vinnie Bell: My old man's a white old man, and my old mother's Black. If I ever cursed my white old man, I take my curses back. If I ever cursed my Black old mother and wished she were in Hell, I'm sorry for that evil wish, and now I wish her well. My old man died in a fine house. My mom died in a shack. I wonder where I'm going to die, being neither white nor Black. Vinnie Bell: Mother to son. Vinnie Bell: Well son, I'll tell you: life for me ain't been no crystal stair. It's had tacks in it, and splinters, and boards torn up, and places with no carpet on the floor. Bare. But all the time, I's been a climbing on and reaching landings, and turning corners. And sometimes going in the dark, where there ain't been no light. So boy, don't you turn back. Don't you set down on the steps because you finds it kind of hard. Don't you fall now, for I's still going, honey. I's still climbing. And life for me ain't been no crystal stair. Aaron Favors: I, too. Aaron Favors: I, too, sing America. I am the darker brother. They send me to eat in the kitchen when company comes. But I laugh, and eat well, and grow strong. Tomorrow, I'll be at the table when company comes. Then, nobody'll dare say to me, "Eat in the kitchen," then. Besides, they'll see how beautiful I am, and be ashamed: I, too, am America. Aaron Favors: Without Benefit of Declaration. Aaron Favors: Listen here, Joe. Don't you know that tomorrow, you got to go out yonder where the steel winds blow? Listen here, kid. It's been said tomorrow you'll be dead, out there where the snow is lead. Don't ask me why, just go ahead and die. Hidden from the sky, out yonder you'll lie. A medal to your family, in exchange for a guy. Mama, don't cry. Aaron Favors: I Dream A World. Aaron Favors: I dream a world where man, no other man will scorn. Where love will bless the earth, and peace its paths adorn. I dream a world where all will know sweet freedom's way. Where greed no longer saps the soul, nor avarice blights our day. A world I dream where Black and white, whatever race you be, will share the bounties of the earth, and every man is free. Where wretchedness will hang its head, and joy, like a pearl, attend the needs of all mankind. Of such I dream, our world. James Rogers: Thank you. It was magnificent. You know, I've been thinking of these poems. And it seems to me that Langston Hughes has a very personal voice here. He's quite aware of his own Blackness and his Black consciousness. Where we have been, what we are, and where we're going. Yet and still, he lacks the bitterness of a young Black boy. And I'm thinking of LeRoi Jones and Jean Toomer in particular. But that's often said of Langston Hughes, and I quote, he said, "The death of Langston Hughes closes out an era in American Negro literature, which can never come again. Because all the red hot bitterness and often times justifiable rage of the contemporary young Black boys was not Langston Hughes' prevailing mood." I was wondering, Fred, if you would like to comment on that? Fred Woodard: Yes and I think we can see, in the poems that we read here, that there is or there was no bitterness in Langston Hughes. Or at least it does not prevail in his poetry. Langston Hughes reminds us an awful lot of Walt Whitman. And I don't suppose it would be too out of character to call him, in a sense, a Black Walt Whitman. It seems that he was concerned about the American-ness of America, and this certainly includes Black and white. In the poem that I read, we were continuously aware of the fact that it was the Black hands, the white hands, the free hands, adventurous hands, all of these hands went into making up America. Now, you talked about the angry, the bitter Black poets like LeRoi Jones. I think LeRoi Jones' stand on poetry, on life in general... It's justified. Unlike Hughes, LeRoi Jones has taken in a wider spectrum of America. He's looking into these dark alleys of America. And in these dark alleys, he sees the Black man being pushed into the mud even deeper. Fred Woodard: I think one other time, we talked about this idea of the tree from the poem here, Freedom's Plow. The seed has been planted and the tree is growing, and is still growing. LeRoi Jones, of course, is sort of spreading some insecticide so that our fruits may be a little more edible, and a little more bearable. James Rogers: Yeah. Well Fred, that demonstrates the dichotomy between LeRoi Jones and Langston Hughes, that is the new world and the old. A metaphor. It is very vivid. LeRoi Jones says, and I quote, "To be a man, a white thing crawling through none's dreams." On the other hand, a man like Langston Hughes says in a little thing he calls a motto... Which as you know we have this social phenomenon [inaudible] the so-called hippies, and they sing about Do your own thing. It's a great deal I think, of [laws and understanding] in that. James Rogers: But Langston Hughes says, and it's called Motto, "I play it cool and dig all jive, that's the reason I stay alive. My motto, as I live and learn, is dig and be dug in return." I think there's quite the difference there. Fred Woodard: All right. James Rogers: Certainly going along with that, I... Digging and being dug in return, it sounds almost like living and loving in return. [inaudible] make a poetry workshop right here on the spot. Back to the poem you read about the plow, keeping your hand on the plow and holding on. Would it be a fair comparison to make, since we're already in one comparison between Langston Hughes and LeRoi Jones, to say whereas the old saying may have been keep your hand on the plow, hold on, LeRoi Jones might say, "Keep your finger on the trigger, and push on." Would you think this would be a fair comparison to make? Fred Woodard: Yes, maybe. Well it's rather difficult to say that... Well, yes. Let's say that LeRoi Jones says, "Keep your finger on the trigger, and push on." We could all make a noise and we all know that we have to use our own means of getting across our message. Langston Hughes used his, and of course we may as well call him the pacifist or... Well, let's call him a pacifist, whereas LeRoi Jones believes in getting out and moving these mountains. Let's either move the mountains or let's burn them down. And I think his attitude is justified. Vinnie Bell: When you said that he say, "Let's move the mountains." You are referring to the so-called barrier, so far as the races are concerned. Well, LeRoi Jones seemed to be the type that is pessimistic. Maybe I'm wrong in saying this, but I like the view of Langston Hughes. I mean, in referring back to this poem that... The Freedom Plow. In referring back to the poem that Fred read concerning Freedom Plow, he mentioned that the seed of the tree of freedom has already been planted. And it is growing. It might not be growing as rapidly as we would desire it to grow, but it is growing gradually. That maybe that we can do... I guess LeRoi Jones is saying, just as you said, "Don't wait anymore. We had better do something because if we continue to sit and wait, then we'll be waiting all our lives." Vinnie Bell: But I like Langston Hughes' point of view. James Rogers: I think you're right Vinnie and I think any of those questions I hear... What I think that we must realize over Langston Hughes is he was also aware of the ambiguities between what America professed, and what she is. And let's talk about the Black authors, the Black poets, the Black painters, the Black writers in particular. Langston Hughes said, concerning the [inaudible] of Negro honors, in a speech at the National Assembly of Authors and Dramatists Symposium in New York, May 1957. And he said, "We Negro writers, just by being Black, have been on the Blacklist all our lives. Do you know there are libraries in my country that will not stock a book by a Negro writer? Not even as a gift." He said, "There are towns where Negro newspapers and magazines can not be sold." He says, "There are American magazines and book publishers that have never published anything by Negroes, nor will they. Most film studios never hire Negro writers. There are thousands and thousands of women's clubs and other organizations booking lecturers that never had, and will not have a Negro speaker, even when he has written a best seller." James Rogers: So I don't know. I think Langston Hughes, as you say, is also aware of what we are as Black people in what I must describe as a white world. Fred Woodard: Jim, to talk about the idea that there are libraries, there are publishers, who have nothing whatsoever to do with a Black artist. This, you must remember, was in 1957. And no doubt, he was speaking the truth then. We have, of course, people like James Bowen and... Invisible man? Aaron Favors: Ralph Ellison? Fred Woodard: Ralph Ellison. Yes. Who definitely, yes, made a number of talks to white groups, and who has certainly been published by major magazines in the country. Now, I think this says an awful lot for a change that is being made, as the young lady pointed out a minute ago. But still, these changes are so few. And I think the voice like LeRoi Jones is a much needed voice, and much under published voice. To point this out even further, I think LeRoi Jones' play Dutchman was made into a movie in France, but not in our own country. Certainly, what he has to say here has direct bearings on our way of life here and would of course shed some light on the Negro's condition. Fred Woodard: I mean, it's human condition. And what he really feels and thinks. And I think for the most part, America is actually afraid of it. America can very well stomach someone like Langston Hughes. Sure, he was satirical at times, there were times when... Well, one thing I remember in particular, in reading The Big Sea, his autobiography. Where he talks about the white patron he had who insisted on his writing short stories and poetry that actually showed the beast, or the wild, the untamed attitude of the Negro. And as long as we manage to produce this type of literature of course, it's going to get some kind of publishing, some kind of recognition I think. Aaron Favors: Talking about Jones and Hughes, and seems as though we can't talk very well about one without talking about the other... In talking about the two men, I seem to detect that whereas Hughes talked a lot about hope and dreams and seeds have been planted and growing, and on the other hand Jones had talked about trying to reap the harvest now, we're done with planting. Here's where's we start picking the fruit. If this is a change in attitude, to what do you attribute this change in attitude from what I'm saying? Unbridled optimism, hope in the American dream, sharing the American dream. Now of a sudden, estrangement as the dream became a nightmare. James Rogers: All right. I think this is a point well taken because I don't think that we can divorce poetry, like art, from reality. Langston Hughes loved his community. He loved Black people. A demonstration of this in a little anecdote he had in The Big Sea, it was mentioned that though he had traveled all over the world, he lived most of his life in the heart of Harlem, at 20, West 127th Street. And I know New Yorkers probably know where that is. In an interview several years ago, one of Hughes' aunts recalled, once [inaudible] 153rd Street and Riverside drive, a better neighborhood that she liked and rushing Hughes to see it. James Rogers: She said he went all over the place with me, she recalled. But then he said, "It's a nice place. And I'll help you buy it, but I won't live in it with you. It is not Harlem, never will be Harlem, and I'll never leave Harlem for anywhere else." And this man not only professed a love for his people, but he seemed to... James Rogers: And another point about his optimism. It's something that Vinnie had said earlier. Vinnie, you said it's a pity Langston Hughes never enjoyed the widespread recognition from his own people that he deserved. Well I was wondering, what is the attitude at Rust or some of the other Negro colleges? Why don't they know who Langston Hughes is? Vinnie Bell: Well, at Rust we do know who Langston Hughes is. We've heard of him. But you know, the books that we get aren't the type of... They aren't the type that express Negro [inaudible], Negro poetry, Negro stories. Not too many... If we are going to discuss something about the Negro experience, we would have to go to a store and buy a little paperback book, another book like this. But the books that we [inaudible] for class, they hardly ever express the Negro view. I think if... The only way that we can know about not only people and some of our great Negro writers like Langston Hughes, but also some of the others that... Their books are being published and being purchased for our Negro schools. Aaron Favors: Something we talked about early, and I might just bring it out here, and it maybe splitting hairs or being finicky, but... The point that I thought about when you mentioned writers, the Negro writers and about Langston Hughes being a Negro poet. Would it be helpful to think of him as a poet first, and then a Negro? Does this make any difference, to think of him in these terms? Because if there is a point that I like to make, it's the poet is involved with and dealing with and has to be concerned with reality, then this seems to say that the reality of the existence of the human being who is Black has to be accepted as part of the fiber of this tapestry called America. Aaron Favors: And if we are to accept our heritage, and here when I say our, I'm talking as much about us, We The People as Hughes talked about, of all hues in America, in the United States. Boston, Chicago, all these places that go together to make it up. Maybe one step towards realizing this dream, helping this tree to bear fruit, would be to consider the possibility of the contribution of people as people first. Oh incidentally, by the way, he is a Negro. James Rogers: Yeah. That's very good. In fact, in his biography he said something like, "Life is a big sea full of many fish. I let down my nets and pull." That's that optimism that Vinnie is talking about. Fred Woodard: Well, yes. I think the optimism is noticeable in Hughes. Yet, we have to remember that there is a point of departure even with optimism. There's a point of being fool-hearted. And I think what we need to get right down to the middle of things, really. Now we can talk about the fact that... Let's try to remember Langston Hughes as a poet, and not as a Negro poet. But that's something that the four of us would probably do here, and maybe somebody else will happen to think about this for the moment. But it's going to dissipate. The fact that he's Black will always remain, no matter how optimistic this man was. How optimistic his poetry is or is writing is, he's still a Black man and his poetry will always be considered Black poetry. James Rogers: Yes. And I wonder if this is not what he himself would want. Fred Woodard: Well, sure. I think he would want to be identified as... Well, he wants to be identified with America, first of all. And the American-ness of America. And that means of course the Black, white, blue, green, yellow, orange. You know? Everything that goes to make up- Aaron Favors: Sounds like [men in] color. Fred Woodard: Okay. All right. The living color of America. But at the same time, we have to look at the realism of the situation here. Langston Hughes will be remembered as a Black poet, and maybe this is what... Although this is what he wants to be, although I suppose we can say this is what he wanted to be remembered as. Aaron Favors: All right. I'll go along with what Fred says, and would like to maybe go another step, that extra mile and think about realism and reality. Again, we might be more productive or as productive in thinking about realities and realism. I have to think in terms of reality, or realism with a capital R, in the sense that this is what the reality is. This is the way it really is, folks. We're telling you the gospel truth. James Rogers: Absolutely. Aaron Favors: Yeah. There are some truths. And one thing that you said at the beginning about the comparison of Hughes with Whitman, for example. What does it do to someone if you think- Fred Woodard: Well, Hughes was kind of like a Black Whitman and you could, with equal vigor, assert that Whitman was kind of a white Hughes. James Rogers: Full circle. Aaron Favors: Yeah. Why not that might be a reality? If the realism involved, yes that's one reality, [inaudible] He wrote, he worked, he died. And he had this thing we're calling optimism. And another reality is that business about... Once he said, "A long time ago. But not too long." Seems to suggest that these things, because they were said a long time ago, may still be true today. And one of my questions might be, is Hughes in his... Well our interpretation of his attitude, is this relevant today? Or is it out of date? Is he outdated? Has he been supplanted by the attitudes there of someone such as LeRoi Jones? Is this more relevant [inaudible] James Rogers: Yeah. You know, but this interesting Aaron that you pose that question. Because I think that LeRoi Jones actually liked the white tradition. And still, Langston Hughes captures the full [inaudible], the full cultural implications of being Black. I think that Fred had something to say on this before, you know? And I think that we... What we're doing, young people and analyzing the works of young Black artist, is that individual professed the most hate, the most bitterness becomes our champion. And I don't necessarily think this is true. And in an anecdote in The Big Sea, he said when he went into Elementary school in Topeka Kansas, he remembered that all the teachers were nice to him except one, who would make remarks about his being "colored". Which resorted in the other white kids chasing and throwing stones and bottles, and chasing him home. James Rogers: But there was one little white boy who would always take up for him. Sometimes others of my classmates, he says, would as well but this one kid would [inaudible] So I learned early not to hate all white people. He said, "And ever since, it has seemed to me that most people are generally good in every race. And in every country where I have visited." Vinnie Bell: When you ask that question, when you mention that he was one to be known as a Negro poet, and you answer that by saying yes, you feel that he would want to be known as a Negro poet. But when you begin to analyze the works of Hughes, you can see that he spoke in a universal manner. He spoke about mankind as a whole. He didn't have any discrimination. But if you read his quote, you will know that he is a Negro. Fred Woodard: Well, that's all well and good. I think we could all say that's true, very true, about his poetry. But in conjunction with this American dream, the universal attitude... I still think we that we can say for this day and age, we need a stronger voice. Certainly not someone who is soft pedaling his way through the big sea, the title of his autobiography. But this soft pedal... He was a man who, although he lived in Harlem all of his life, he was just living in Harlem. That makes a tremendous difference, comparing to some of the Black writers who are not just living, they were there, you know? Fred Woodard: I mean, my God. They take on their whole community like osmosis. And whatever taken in that doesn't agree, they spit it out. And LeRoi Jones is in the process of spitting things out. This is where... I love Langston Hughes, really, for the type of poet that he is. Or the type of writer that he is. But I certainly don't knock him because he didn't come out strong enough. I'm saying that for today, for the real crisis of today, we need a stronger voice. Not someone who's going to lull us to sleep with, "Child, my life ain't been no crystal stair. But I'm going on and going on." Well, to heck with that. Sure, that may well be a truism but still, we need that stronger, stronger pulsating sort of thing. And the quote that Jim gave earlier, I can't go to [inaudible], but to think of a man is to... To crawl none's dream, or something of the sort. Well, this is the whole complexion of America. That idea of cleanliness, purity, virginity [inaudible] This is the surface. James Rogers: Yet, can we say that in his time, Langston Hughes was most certainly a prophet? And that you, as a young poet, in a sense can look at him in a historical context because of his awareness and identification with the problems and aspirations of Black people. Because there were Black poets that predated Langston Hughes, like Phyllis Wheatley in particular, that had little or nothing to say about what it means to be a Black man in that all-white America. And Langston Hughes then was in a sort of opening of [inaudible] as is indicated. James Rogers: And certainly, we do need stronger voices and we have them. And we'll probably have even stronger voices in the future. But I think that Langston Hughes encompassed all of those things that we most admire in an artist. Fred Woodard: Well, yeah. I don't know if I can really answer all of that. I'm not really sure that I understood the question. But I think Langston Hughes did a tremendous job in representing the Negro consciousness. And I think that this, we will admire him for maybe a hundred years from now, Whereas we may well forget about LeRoi Jones. James Rogers: That's a good point. I'll take it. Fred Woodard: But the point is, do we always... We don't dislike LeRoi Jones because he's screaming his full head off, and being shot at. I think we need the LeRoi Jones. We need a strong voice, is what I'm maintaining here. I think that no matter what happens to LeRoi Jones, right now we can say he's the prophet. Aaron Favors: I would like to just respond to that. Briefly, I hope. If we accept the contention that we, whoever we are, need a strong voice, does it matter what the voice says? Or is strength alone enough? Is it relevant to ask what the voice is saying while it's being strong? [inaudible] be one question. Would you like to respond to that? And then I'll try to think of the other one. Fred Woodard: Well, I think there's not only a need for the strong voice, but the voice has to be saying something. Now, what most of the propagandists... They reach for what people want to hear. What will fulfill an emotional need. Now LeRoi Jones of course talks not only emotionally, but there's a great deal of intellectual [inaudible] in LeRoi Jones... And I think, now I don't even know if I'm answering your question correctly here, but I think that the voice needs not only to be strong, but it must say something. Something that we can find useful, practical in a crisis here. Fred Woodard: And of course, if we go to Langston Hughes and try to find something practical, we may well end up with what Jim talked about here, that Langston Hughes used as a motto. You know, play it cool, dig and be dug. Well, there are many degrees of coolness. James Rogers: Yeah. And see, also we might be misreading Langston Hughes in that, I doubt if he called for a regressive attitude, I think that... For example, I would... The only individual poet that I could make analog here would be Elliott's The Wasteland. And then Langston Hughes encompassed a total whirl. He said it's not only hatred, bitterness, anger. He's talking about all people. And this thing, as you said, in America, this American-ness... As broad as in The Wasteland, His Freedom Plow, I think in many aspects of it, that he's saying that all Americans who are aware, who have this particular sort of English if you will, are trying to order chaos. To make sense of all of this. And so, his stress was not necessarily Blackness, though he was approaching it from that angle. But he was making comment, I think on the, if you will, the nature of man in this society. And I think that's why he's so significant. And that's why he will live. Vinnie Bell: You know, I'd like to refer back to the point that Fred brought up when he mentioned the idea that, Langston Hughes' poetry will speak a hundred years from now because it doesn't seem to be relevant today. But I guess you could say that's true, so just like when Shakespeare and the other men who wrote their works lasted. They were the types of work that lasted. But Langston Hughes, as you say, now his point of view isn't in too many of our hearts. But some of us share the same views that Langston Hughes shares. Fred Woodard: I think the point that you're trying to make, and what Dahlberg made in Can These Bones Live, that is the point that there is just man. And if we continue to sort of categorize man, sociologically speaking here, we are diluting man. And maybe if we take this point of view, I can agree with you. I understand that quite well. And from this standpoint, I think Langston Hughes is a success. In what I've read of him, he has not diluted man. He has taken, shall we say, a segment of the civilization and, of course spoken through this voice, being sure to bring out the those qualities, or the qualities of man universally. Perhaps in this lies his worth, if I can pass that judgment. I don't... Well, I believe that the purpose here should be to say that Langston Hughes chose to live in Harlem and to bring out, in his poetry, all that was Harlem. Harlem, of course, represented many of possibilities in the spectrum of the American Dream. James Rogers: And in addition, I would think he has... that last poem that I think Vinnie's going to read for us, in which it talks about a dream deferred. And I think this is an important thing. It was not that he wasn't reaching for that dream like the young Black boys are doing today. Yet he said it has been deferred, at least in his mind. I wonder if you could read that for us. Fred Woodard: Sure. Part one, Lenox Avenue. Fred Woodard: What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore, and then run? Does it stink like rotten meat? Or crust and sugar over, like a syrupy sweet? Maybe it sags, like a heavy load. Or does it explode? Speaker 1: You have just heard a program on the Negro poet and author, Langston Hughes. Participants in the program were graduate students Aaron Favors, James Rogers and Fred Woodard, and honor student at Rust College, Vinnie Bell. This program was produced at the University of Iowa in July of 1967, during Afro-American History Week. This series of programs on Afro-American culture is presented by the broadcasting service of the University of Iowa, in cooperation with the Department of English, and the Afro-American Studies program at the university as background for the course in Afro-American literature. This has been a recorded presentation of the broadcasting service of the University of Iowa.