Arthur Miller's Socks

Arthur Miller's Socks 

Arthur Miller and I landed at Istanbul airport on March 17, 1985. We were visiting Turkey on behalf of International P.E.N., to investigate allegations of the torture and persecution of Turkish writers. The trip got off to a bad start. I had two suitcases. One hadn't made it. Apart from other things, this left me with no socks. So Arthur lent me his. Bloody good ones they were too. Made to last.

We met dozens of writers. Those who had been tortured in prison were still trembling but they insisted on giving us a drink, pouring the shaking bottle into our glasses. One of the writer's wives was mute. She had fainted and lost her power of speech when she had seen her husband in prison. He was now out. His face was like a permanent tear. (I don't mean tear as in tears but tear as in being torn.)

Turkey at this time was a military dictatorship, fully endorsed by the United States.

The US Ambassador, hearing of our presence and thinking he was playing a clever card, gave a dinner party at the US embassy in Ankara in honour of Arthur. As I was Arthur's running mate they had to invite me too.

I had hardly taken my first bite at the hors d'oeuvres when I found myself in the middle of a ferocious row with the US political counsellor about the existence of torture in Turkish prisons.

This rattled on merrily throughout the dinner until, finally, Arthur rose to speak. Since he was the guest of honour the floor was his and he made it his in no uncertain terms. 

He discussed the term democracy and asked why, as the United States was a democracy, it supported military dictatorships throughout the world, including the country we were now in? "In Turkey", he said, "hundreds of people are in prison for their thoughts. This persecution is supported and subsidised by the United States. Where", he asked, "does that leave our understanding of democratic values?" 

He was as clear as a bell. The Ambassador thanked him for his speech.

After dinner I thought I'd keep out of trouble for a while and went to look at the paintings. Suddenly I saw the Ambassador and his aides bearing down on me. Why they weren't bearing down on Arthur I don't know. Perhaps he was too tall. The Ambassador said to me: 

"Mr. Pinter, you don't seem to understand the realities of the situation here. Don't forget, the Russians are just over the border. You have to bear in mind the political reality, the diplomatic reality, the military reality."
"The reality I've been referring to", I said, "is that of electric current on your genitals." 

The Ambassador drew himself, as they say, up to his full height and glared at me. "Sir, he said, "you are a guest in my house." He turned, as they also say, on his heel and his aides turned too. Arthur suddenly loomed up.

"I think I've been thrown out", I said. "I'll come with you", Arthur said, without hesitation. Being thrown out of the US embassy in Ankara with Arthur Miller -- a voluntary exile - was one of the proudest moments in my life.

(Written as a tribute to Arthur Miller, on the occasion of his 80th birthday)

Remember Broken Hill (1894)

Ye care encumbered thousands,
Who bare oppression's chain,
Strike manfully for freedom
In "ninety-four's" campaign.

When Dibbs invokes your suffrage
Shout with voices loud and shrill,
A plague upon corruption
We remember Broken Hill.

The "Trial" and the "Sentence",
With its mockery of laws ;
That well elected jury;
Who condemned the people's cause

But honest hearts in prison garb
Have stanch supporters still.
For every true Australian
Should--remember Broken Hill.

When bright departed spirit
Judged rightly of your claim.
He gave your cause the lustre
And honor of his name.

Sweet are the deathless tributes
To his impartial will ;
That name is breathed with reverence
By those at Broken Hill.

Ye faithful wives and mothers,
Who nobly stood the test
Of weary want and hunger,
The bravest and the best ;

If women's bond be sisterhood,
Let men be brothers still--
And in a common heritage
Remember Broken Hill.

Stand firm, ye Knights of Labor,
By the memory o this stain ;
Strike once again for liberty.
Hit home with heart and brain.

When Dibbs next asks a hearing,
Raise your voices with a will,
That every town may echo,
We remember Broken Hill.

Let Union leaders circulate
This watchword thro' the land ;
Let every man hold high aloft
The baying, blackleg brand.

That that hopes may brighten,
That weaker hearts may thrill
With the next election war song,
Remember Broken Hill.

That to your day of reckoning,
Let it not come in vain ;--
Mete out the fullest measure
To him who would have slain,

The men who struck for justice,
And arrive for justice still ;
Show then the titled tyrant
To Remember Broken Hill.

From histories new unwritten.
To children yet unborn,
Fathers will tell this story
With utter, hating scorn,

How Dibbs and his confederates
Longed the bare hillside to fill
With graves of unarmed citizens
Who toiled for Broken Hill.

When cannon threatened slaughter
From the heights above the town,
The word alone was wanting
To shoot the workers down.

Had they but once begun it
That fight had waged until
Freedom and Independence
Would start from Broken Hill.

Shall we, who bear the burthen
And turmoil of the day,
Swot again such miscreants
To filch our rights away !

Such despots merit knighthood,
These precepts they institute
In place of bread give bullets
To fight for Broken Hill.

Workers of every handicraft,
That is our common wrong ;
For hearts and hands united,
Make the defenceless strong.

Let Dibbs and his confederates feel
Australians have the will
And power to rouse the people-
With--Remember Broken Hill.

Australians worthy of the name,
Respond to freedom's chords ;
Talk not of federation
With England's mimic Lords."

Fight for a true democracy.
With free-born, native will ;
That land to our inheritance.
Remember Broken Hill.

Grong Grong, N.S.W.

Chief Justice Hotham. of Victoria.

Notes

From the Broken Hill Newspaper The Barrier Miner 27 Mar 1894 p. 4.

The use of the military and police put down strikes was not unknown in Australia in the 1890's, see for example the songs of the 1891 Shearers Strike in this collection. Any further information about the song above would be most welcome.

Harold Pinter’s Nobel Prize speech: a brave artist speaks the truth about US imperialism – Art, Truth and Politics

Harold Pinter’s Nobel Prize speech: a brave artist speaks the truth about US imperialism

By Barry Grey 
9 December 2005

British playwright Harold Pinter, this year’s Nobel laureate for literature, delivered a passionate, truthful and courageous acceptance speech to the Swedish Academy on Wednesday. 

The renowned author of such plays as The Homecoming and The Caretaker, Pinter has spoken out tirelessly and powerfully against the war in Iraq and the depredations of American imperialism in the Balkans, Central America and elsewhere that preceded it.

He utilized his acceptance speech to extend and develop that struggle, giving a blistering critique of the entire course of US foreign policy in the period since World War II, and indicting Britain for its role as Washington’s junior partner and accomplice. 

Mincing no words, Pinter called Bush and Blair war criminals, and made an impassioned call for mass political resistance to militarism and war.

The 75-year-old playwright, screenwriter, poet, actor and antiwar activist gave his address in the form of a videotape, made in Britain and shown on screens to the assemblage in Stockholm. 

Pinter was recently treated for cancer of the esophagus and remains in fragile health. On the advice of his physicians, he refrained from making the trip to Sweden.

He appeared on tape sitting in a wheelchair, with a rug over his knees. His voice was hoarse, but, according to published accounts, no less commanding for that.

Pinter’s address, entitled “Art, Truth and Politics,” was refreshing and even liberating in its honesty and bluntness about the catastrophic impact of US subversion, violence and aggression over many decades and in many parts of the world. 

Even sections of the establishment press in both Britain and the United States, such as the Guardian and the New York Times, which have fully participated in the dissemination of lies and the coverup of crimes associated with US foreign policy, were obliged to register in some measure the powerful impact of Pinter’s words.

Pinter prefaced a discussion of his body of dramatic work and his approach to art with the following observation:

“In 1958 I wrote the following: ‘There are no hard distinctions between what is real and what is unreal, nor between what is true and what is false.
A thing is not necessarily either true or false; it can be both true and false.’

“I believe that these assertions still make sense and do still apply to the exploration of reality through art. So as a writer I stand by them but as a citizen I cannot. As a citizen I must ask: What is true? What is false?”

Pinter proceeded to give some insight into the complex and elusive process by which he composed his dramas, making clear that his primary concern was the utilization of language, plot and character to discover important human and social truths.

Concerning the relationship between art, language and truth he said: “So language in art remains a highly ambiguous transaction, a quicksand, a trampoline, a frozen pool which might give way under you, the author, at any time.

“But as I have said, the search for the truth can never stop. It cannot be adjourned, it cannot be postponed. It has to be faced, right there, on the spot.”

This theme of the responsibility to seek and present the truth was the connecting link between his remarks on drama and his remarks on history and politics. 

He said: “Political language, as used by politicians, does not venture into any of this territory since the majority of politicians, on the evidence available to us, are interested not in truth but in power and the maintenance of that power.

To maintain that power it is essential that people remain in ignorance, that they live in ignorance of the truth, even the truth of their own lives. What surrounds us therefore is a vast tapestry of lies, upon which we feed.”

He continued: “As every single person here knows, the justification for the invasion of Iraq was that Saddam Hussein possessed a highly dangerous body of weapons of mass destruction, some of which could be fired in 45 minutes, bringing about appalling devastation. 

We were assured that was true. It was not true. 
We were told that Iraq had a relationship with Al Qaeda and shared responsibility for the atrocity in New York of September 11, 2001. We were assured that this was true. 

It was not true. We were told that Iraq threatened the security of the world. We were assured it was true. It was not true.”

Pinter then moved to a discussion of US foreign policy since the end of the Second World War. “Everyone knows what happened in the Soviet Union and throughout Eastern Europe during the post-war period: the systematic brutality, the widespread atrocities, the ruthless suppression of independent thought. 

All this has been fully documented and verified.
“But my contention here is that the US crimes in the same period have only been superficially recorded, let alone documented, let alone acknowledged, let alone recognized as crimes at all.... Although constrained, to a certain extent, by the existence of the Soviet Union, the United States’ actions throughout the world made it clear that it had concluded it had carte blanche to do what it liked.”

Pinter then spoke of Washington’s record of international subversion: “In the main, it has preferred what it has described as ‘low intensity conflict.’ 

Low intensity conflict means that thousands of people die but slower than if you dropped a bomb on them in one fell swoop. It means that you infect the heart of the country, that you establish a malignant growth and watch the gangrene bloom. 

When the populace has been subdued—or beaten to death—the same thing—and your own friends, the military and the great corporations, sit comfortably in power, you go before the camera and say that democracy has prevailed. This was commonplace in US foreign policy in the years to which I refer.”

He then went on to describe the mass murder and destruction wreaked by the US-backed Contra terrorists in Nicaragua in the 1980s. 

“I should remind you,” he said, “that at the time President Reagan made the following statement: ‘The Contras are the moral equivalent of our Founding Fathers.”

Pinter elaborated on the US role in Nicaragua and Central America as a whole. Noting the social achievements of the left-nationalist Sandanista regime that overthrew the US-backed dictator Samoza in 1979—the abolition of the death penalty, land reform, gains in literacy and public education, free health care—he said.

God Bless America 

Here they go again, 
The Yanks in their armoured parade 
Chanting their ballads of joy 
As they gallop across the big world 
Praising America's God. 

The gutters are clogged with the dead 
The ones who couldn't join in 
The others refusing to sing 
The ones who are losing their voice 
The ones who've forgotten the tune.

The riders have whips which cut. 
Your head rolls onto the sand 
Your head is a pool in the dirt 
Your head is a stain in the dust 
Your eyes have gone out and your nose 
Sniffs only the pong of the dead 
And all the dead air is alive 
With the smell of America's God. 

January 2003

Harold Pinter House of Commons Speech 

21  January 2003 

One of the more nauseating images of the year 2002 is that of our Prime Minister kneeling in the church on Christmas Day praying for peace on earth and good will towards all men while simultaneously preparing to assist in the murder of thousands of totally innocent people in Iraq. 

I believe that not only is this contemplated act criminal, malevolent and barbaric, it also contains within itself a palpable joy in destruction. 
Power, as has often been remarked, is the great aphrodisiac, and so, it would seem, is the death of others. 

The Americans have the ostensible support of the International community' through various sure-fire modes of intimidation: bullying, bribery, blackmail and bullshit. 

The 'international community' becomes a degraded entity bludgeoned into the service of a brutal military force out of control. 

The most despicable position is that of course of this country which pretends to stand shoulder to shoulder with its great ally while in fact being more of a whipped dog than anyone else. We are demeaned, undermined and dishonoured by our government's contemptible subservience to the United States. 

The planned war can only bring about the collapse of what remains of the Iraqi infrastructure, widespread death, mutilation, disease and escalation of violence throughout the world, but it will still masquerade as a 'moral crusade', a 'just war', a war waged by 'freedom-loving democracies', to bring 'democracy' to Iraq. The stink of the hypocrisy is suffocating. This is in reality a simple tale of invasion of sovereign territory, military occupation and control of oil. 

We have a clear obligation, which is to resist. 

Harold Pinter Acceptance Speech, 18 March 2005 

Wilfred Owen Award for Poetry 

This is a true honour. Wilfred Owen was a great poet. He articulated the tragedy, the horror and indeed the pity — of war in a way no other poet has. Yet we have learnt nothing. nearly a hundred -years after his death the world has become more savage, more brutal, more pitiless. 

But the 'free world' we are told (as embodied in the United States and Great Britain) is different to the rest of the world since our actions are dictated and sanctioned by a moral authority and a moral passion condoned by someone called God. 

Some people may find this difficult to comprehend but Osama Bin Laden finds it easy. 

What would Wilfred Owen make of the invasion of Iraq? A bandit act, an act of blatant state terrorism, demonstrating absolute contempt for the concept of international law. 

An arbitrary military action inspired by a series of lies upon lies and gross manipulation of the media and therefore of the public. An act intended to consolidate American military and economic control of the Middle East masquerading—as a last resort (all other justifications having failed to justify themselves)—as liberation. 

A formidable assertion of military force responsible for the death and mutilation of thousands upon thousands of innocent people. An independent and totally objective account of the Iraqi civilian dead in the medical journal The Lancet estimates that the figure approaches 100,000. But neither the US or the UK bother to count the Iraqi dead. As General Tommy 'Franks (US Central Command) memorably said: 'We don't body counts'. 

We have brought torture, cluster bombs, depleted uranium, innumerable acts of random murder, misery and degradation to the Iraqi people to the Iraqi people and call it 'bringing freedom and demoracy to the Middle East'. But, as we all know, we have not been welcomed with the predicted flowers. What we have unleashed is a ferocious and unremitting resistance, mayhem and chaos. 

You may say at this point: what about the Iraqi elections? Well, President Bush himself answered this question only the other day when he said: 'We cannot accept that there can be free democratic elections in a country under foreign military occupation.' 

I had to read that statement twice before I realised that he was talking about Lebanon and Syria. What do Bush and Blair actually see when they look at themselves in the mirror? 

I believe Wilfred Owen would share our contempt, our revulsion, our nausea and our shame at both the language and the actions of the American and British governments. 

Harold Pinter – Various Voices 1948––2005

Pinter's own selection of prose, fiction, poetry and political writings from the last fifty-five years Harold Pinter's plays are lauded the world over but, until now, little has been gathered together of his other writings. Various Voices presents a wealth of material and a multiplicity of form in which to enjoy the crystal clarity of language and style which marks out Pinter as a true original. Through Various Voices the reader can trace Pinter's development from a nascent writer exploring the boundaries of his craft to the assured maturity of his later work.

Various Voices comprises Pinter's own selection of his prose, prose fiction, poetry and political writings. His prose choices range from the marvellously erudite A Note on Shakespeare (1950), to a celebration of cricket and cricketers in Len Hutton and the Past (1969); his short stories begin with the subtle dialogue of Kullus (1949) and end with Girls (1995); his poetry starts with School Life (1948) and travels through the years to the powerful and moving Death(1997); and his political writings, including many of his 'letters to the editor', illustrate the depth and sincerity of his long-held views on a number of human rights issues around the world. This is an essential companion to Pinter's plays and enables the reader to fully appreciate the breadth and depth of a body of work spanning a period of fifty years.

The Ballad of The Bricklayers Daughter (1922)

It was a bricklayer in Gulgong did dwell ;
He had but one daughter, a very fine gell.
But alack and alas! oh! what mischief was done
When she captured the heart of the capen's own son.
Slnging tooral bye, ooral 'bye, addlty,
Like wise to tooral eye, cooral bye, day.

When the Capen his father, did come for to hear
That his son was betrothed to a damsel so dear.
He straightway began for to rave and to swear.
And he danced round the village a'tearing 'his hair
Singing tooral bye, ooral bye, addlty,
Likewise tooral bye, oorial bye, day.

He met the bricklayer a-going for to lay
The bricks for a chimney, and to him did say.
My man, do you know what your daughter has done?
She has dared to look sweet on a Capen's own son.
Singing tooral bye, ooral bye, addity.
Likewise tooral bye, ooral bye, day;

No bricklayer's lass since the world was begun
Has ever been wed to a Capen's own son.
You lower-class people your places must keep,
Or the angels In heaven will sit down and weep
Singing tooral 'bye, ooral bye, addlty.
Likewise tooral bye, ooral bye, day.

When sonny did hear what his father did say,
He stuck out his chest, and spake up right away,
That I am a toff does not matter to me,
I will stick to my sweetheart though lowly she be
Singing tooral bye, ooral bye, addlty,
Likewise tooral bye, ooral bye, day.

And now comes a sorrowful story, alack !
For the bricklayer soon he was given the sack,
Then the miners all did the thing that they like,
They paoked up their tools, and they came out on strike
Singing tooral. bye, ooral bye, addlty,
Likewise tooral bye, ooral bye, day.

Now, all you bricklayers who work on the mines,
You must keep all your daughters from cutting up shine ;
you must teach them to keep in their places at once.
And not to go a-mashlng the Capen's own sous
Singing tooral bye, ooral bye, addity,
Likewise tooral bye, ooral bye, day

--Couein Jack.

Merewether.

Notes

From the NSW Newspaper The Newcastle Sun 31 Oct 1922 p. 3.

Gaudi

The Emancipated Convict (1847)

Lines supposed to have been written by an Emancipated 
Convict in V. D. Land on the eve of his departure for England.

I'll tarry no longer in scenes of my sorrow,
Where vile chains of bondage in anguish I've borne ;
I'll fly on the crest of the billow to-morrow,
And start for my home at the dawning of morn.

All in vain would ye tempt me, false feelings of shame,
To linger from scenes of my former disgrace ;
Though with blackest dishonour they've branded my name,
With good resolutions I'll dare show my face.

I know they will shun me, and treat with contumely
The poor wretched wand'rer they formerly knew;
Bul this I will slight, nor brood o'er it gloomily,
If my children and wife to me should prove true.

And I think they'll receive me with swift tears of joy,
As one that was dead now recall'd unto life,
And the first that will meet me will be my poor boy,
Who'll lead me at once to the arms of my wife.

Then she'll tell me what oft she has written before,
That one single crime she will never resent ;
But forgiveness from Heav'n she will humbly implore,
For she knows how fervently I did repent :

And a character, too, she will help to reclaim,
To avert the keen edge of bitterest scorn :
Then my own reputation with care I'll maintain,
And thus will not rue the dark day I was born.

Yes, dear honored England ! my heart does incline
To the land of my birth, the vale of my home ;
In that calm happy valley again I'll recline,--
In confines of bondage no more I will roam,

Once more I will breathe the pure air of the mountains
Surrounding the spot that to me is so dear,
And live in the curling and glistening fountains,
Which mirror the blue sky all brilliant an clear.

Then, farewell Tasmania ! thou land of the exile,
May thy skies beam kindness o'er children of woe,
(And may laws that are good and humane reconcile),
Till like me with joy to their kindred they go,

And farewell to you, my companions in sorrow,
Though from you thus joyously I would depart :
I will not forget, on a brightening morrow,
To cherish a wish for your welfare at heart.

X. I. X.
Hobart Town, Sept. 29, 1847.

Notes

From the Hobart Newpaper the Colonial Times 5. Oct 1847 p. 4.

Eric Hobsbawm Tribute – Ed Miliband

The Labour leader, Ed Miliband, led tributes to the Marxist historian and academic Eric Hobsbawm, who died on Monday , calling him "an extraordinary historian, a man passionate about his politics and a great friend of my family".

Hobsbawm, one of the leading historians of the 20th century and an intellectual giant of the left, died in the early hours of Monday morning at the Royal Free hospital in north London, his family said, following a long illness. He was 95.

Miliband said Hobsbawm had "brought hundreds of years of British history to hundreds of thousands of people. He brought history out of the ivory tower and into people's lives."

Hobsbawm's work was influential in the evolution of New Labour during the 1990s. Tony Blair called him "a giant of progressive politics history, someone who influenced a whole generation of political and academic leaders. He wrote history that was intellectually of the highest order but combined with a profound sense of compassion and justice. And he was a tireless agitator for a better world."

In the course of an extraordinary life and career, Hobsbawm not only wrote about but personally witnessed many of the most dramatic events of the 20th century. He was born in Alexandria, Egypt, in 1917, the year of the Russian revolution, and first joined the communist movement as a Jewish teenager in Berlin, before his family left Germany in 1933, the year that Hitler came to power. "It was impossible to remain outside politics," he said many years later. "The months in Berlin made me a lifelong communist."

Though he was bitterly pained by many of the worst excesses of the USSR, he retained his membership of the British Communist party even after the Soviet invasion of Hungary, and remained a Marxist throughout his life, facts that made him a controversial figure for many.

His work as a historian was greatly admired even by those who disagreed with his politics. In a Comment is free article, his fellow historian Niall Ferguson said that despite being "poles apart politically" he and Hobsbawm had been friends. "His politics did not prevent Hobsbawm from being a truly great historian," Ferguson wrote.

Hobsbawm's magisterial four-volume history of the rise of modern capitalism in the 19th and 20th centuries, from the French Revolution to the fall of the USSR, is acknowledged as among the defining works on the period, admired both for his analysis and the quality of his prose. 

Ferguson said the tetralogy, from The Age of Revolution in 1962, to 1994's The Age of Extremes, "remains the best introduction to modern world history in the English language".

Roy Foster, another friend and a former colleague at Birkbeck, said: "Most historians are by nature either short-story writers or novelists; Eric was both... I once heard him say that he thought his work would endure, not only because he believed his judgements were defensible, but because he had gone to a good deal of trouble to teach himself to write well.

"David Miliband described Hobsbawm as "a piercing intellect and a restless radical … His humanity trumped his ideology."

Hobsbawm taught at Cambridge, Stanford and, late in life, at the New School for Social Research in Manhattan, but his longest and closest association was with Birkbeck College in London, beginning with his appointment to a history lectureship in 1947 and culminating with his appointment as president in 2002.

Prof Philip Dewe, the college's vice-master, said: "I think history will recognise him as one of the greatest thinkers of the last century and into the current millennium. And he himself said that he did all his work here at Birkbeck. He will be recognised for setting a new tone in history, and for an intellect that perhaps we may not see again."

Come All Ye That Are Weary And Heavy Laden (1855)

Across the great Pacific ocean, o'er those waves renowned of old,
Goes a roaring, and a sounding, and a mighty cry of gold;
The farmers left the harvest, the shepherds fled the fold,
And wildly rushed in thousands to dig the earth for gold.

There are sheep upon the mountain, and cattle on the plain,
And waiting for the sickle, rich fields of golden grain.
Then arouse ye, brother Britons, and together hand in hand,
Bring your wives and little children to the Southern happy land.

On the bosom of the waters, see the ship with sails unfurled,
To bear your household treasures to the great Australian world.
No worn out, pent up Attica, shall here contract your powers,
For the valley and the mountain, the boundless sea are ours.

And sweet, at early morning, are the hills of Barrabool;
And bleating flocks are browsing around the flower verged pool ;
Earth clothed with charming verdure, the maiden with her pail,
And Barwon's lovely waters slow winding through the vale.

WILLIAM STITT JENKINS.
Geelong, 8th May, 1855

Notes

From the Victorian Newspaper Geelong Advertiser and Intelligencer 2 Mar 1855 p. 5.

Jean Ritchie and Doc Watson New York 1963

Jean Ritchie and Doc Watson New York 1963

Jean Richie Recording Seamus Ennis 1950

Harry Smith's Anthology of American Folk Music

Harry Smith's Anthology of American Folk Music 

Moses Asch had a high tolerance for eccentrics; he valued those people who had a strong sense of individuality, who refused to conform to "group" standards. 

A loner himself, he understood that it took considerable nerve to live by your own standards and to create your own aesthetic world. 

Of all the eccentrics who came to work with Asch over the years, none was more eccentric than legendary filmmaker, anthropologist, folklorist, and philosopher Harry Smith (1923-1991), who 
created the legendary Anthology of American Folk Music (1952)—although his intentions upon meeting Asch were somewhat less grandiose. Smith was born and raised in the Pacific Northwest. 

His parents were students of Theosophy, a turn-of-the-century quasi-religious movement that included a fascination with folk rituals and spiritualism. 

His mother taught on an Indian reservation, and Smith developed a lifelong interest in Indian culture. (Smith's 1964 recording of an all-night peyote ritual was issued by Folkways as a two-LP set.) 

After briefly attending college as an anthropology major, Smith settled in San Francisco. He became interested in filmmaking and painting, and befriended many other avant-garde artists. 

As a hobby, he also began collecting early 78 recordings, which were available cheaply in junk shops and secondhand stores throughout the Bay Area. (The recent introduction of the LP and the end of wartime rationing had led to large-scale dumping of earlier 78s.) 

Smith was particularly interested in foreign and American regional musics that he had never heard before. In 1950, Smith was awarded a Guggenheim fellowship to study painting in New York. He spent all of his money on travel and had little cash left on arrival. 

However, he did have a major asset, his 78 collection, and he began to ask around to see if he could a buyer for it. 

A fellow collector recommended Moses Asch.  Ache was  not interested but he recognised its value its value as a document of American music. He urged Smith to consider compiling it into a series of records. He provided workspace for Smith and a small stipend and set him free to conceive of the items anyway he thought fit.

Folk View Sydney Magazine – Lone Issue

Australian Tradition December 1974

Australian Tradition – Martyn Windham Reade– 1965

Martyn Windham Reade

Phil Ochs on Macdougal Sreet in Greenwich Village 1965

Phil Ochs on Macdougal Sreet in Greenwich Village 1965

Sonny Ochs History of Phil Ochs Song Nights

On April 9, 1976 my brother, Phil Ochs, ended his life by hanging himself. He was 35 years old. He had written over 100 songs, and had traveled to many countries. He suffered from manic-depression and had been experiencing a long term writer's block. Many of his songs had been recorded by artists such as John Denver, Gordon Lightfoot, Ronnie Gilbert, Joan Baez, Judy Collins and Pete Seeger.

Six years after Phil's death, Ned Traynor who was then active with the musicians' cooperative which was producing concerts at the Speakeasy on MacDougal Street in Greenwich Village, suggested that they do a Phil Ochs Song Night. I said that I thought it was a great idea. From time to time I would call up and suggest the name of a performer I would like to see in the program. Everyone I suggested was accepted. After a while, I realized that nobody was really in charge.

Anyhow, I was at that first show and emceed a good portion of it. It was in October of '83, but I don't recall the exact date. It was quite disorganized with far too many performers. I left at about midnight, and there were still many others waiting to perform. Most of the performers were members of the Hudson River Sloop Singers who are affiliated with the Clearwater.

Cisco Houston Wartime Pal of Woody Guthrie – Guitarist and consumate singer

Cisco Houston Wartime pal of Woody Guthrie
Guitarist and consumate folk singer

Moses Ashe – Record Maker – Ashe Radio Labs built a sound track for Roosevelt Election Campaign

Ashe Radio Labs built a sound track for Roosevelt Election Campaign

Moses Ashe – Record Maker

The Emigrant's Song (1853)

The Emigrant's Song (1853)

No jolly young bushman e'er wept or repined
That his fatherland, Britain, he'd Left far behind ;
But often at eve, on his bush feaiher-bed,
Such fancies as these will arise in his head :

In old merrie England the swan and the drake
Are smoothing their wings in each stream and each lake;--
As sand on the shore, and as rays from the sun--
Go, visit the Reedbeds, we've thousands for one.

Where the scent is revealing old sly Reynard's track,
The huntsman is cheering his musical pack ;--
But wilder our daring, more glad our halloo,
As we chase, 'cross the wild scrub, the fleet kangaroo.

Colonel Hawker, at midnight, considers it fun
To bag twenty mallards, with punt and with gun ;
But by the bright moon, 'tis more joyous for me
To "down" the sly "possum" from hollow gum-tree.

'Tis a hold deed, and skilful, in silvery Tweed,
With a slight silken thread a huge salmon to lead,
Till at last the stream's monarch is stretched on the sod ;--
But from billagong 'tis better to drag Murray cod.

They have partridge and pheasant in ev'ry rich plain;
They've the lark and the nightingale's soft flowing strain ;--
But a rival for parrots or lories you'd seek
The wide world and not find, for the beauties can speak.

The flowers of England are lovely in hue,
The cowslip's faint tint, and the harebell's deep blue ;
But whatever can equal at fair Chiswick show
Those which spring in each gully, on every hill grow ?

Old England is famous for apple and pear,
And even for peaches, with hot walls and care ;--
But, sons of Australia, we revel in pine,
In orange, in melon, in loquat, in vine.

A thousand feet down their bold pit-miner goes,
To drag up King Coal from his fossil repose ;--
But we've fuel all ready, in ton-weights untold ;
And you can't plant a spade without turning up gold.

Old England may boast of its Thames, and its Tyne,
Where the ships of the world raise a forest of pine !--
But the Murray still deeper and wider does grow,
If twenty score leagues up its waters you go !

No "Spitalfields weaver," no "son of the soil,"
Can earn half-a crown in a summer day's toil ;--
But we'd ne'er lift a spade, yoke a bullock in dray,
Unless we got eight or ten shillings a day.

Our country is young, and our wealth is unknown,
Our mines are unopened, our crops are not grown ;
Still "Australia advance" be our rallying cry,
And like Barnaby's raven,* boys, " never say die."

ANOINKOON.

North Adelaide, 17th Nov., 1853.

* Barnaby Rudge.

Notes

From the South Australian Newspaper the Adelaide Observer Saturday 26 November 1853 p. 7.

School of Scottish Studies – Celtic & Scottish Studies

The School of Scottish Studies (Scottish Gaelic: Sgoil Eòlais na h-Alba, Scots: Scuil o Scots Studies) was founded in 1951 by Professor William Lindsay Renwick and is affiliated to the University of Edinburgh. 

It holds an archive of over 9000 field recordings of traditional music, song and other lore, housed in George Square, Edinburgh. The collection was begun by Calum Maclean - brother of the poet, Sorley MacLean - and the poet, writer and folklorist, Hamish Henderson, both of whom collaborated with American folklorist Alan Lomax, who is credited as being a catalyst and inspiration for the work of the school.

From 1984 to 1995, the writer, singer and ethnologist, Margaret Bennett - mother of musician Martyn Bennett - worked for the school. In 2012, Mòrag MacLeod, a researcher at the school for forty years, was awarded a Sàr Ghaidheal Fellowship for her contribution to Gaelic language and culture. 

Other staff who have worked in the School include Alan Bruford, Donald-Archie MacDonald, Emily Lyle, Ian Fraser, Peter Cooke, Margaret MacKay, John MacInnes, Gary West, John Shaw, Cathlin MacAulay, Neill Martin, Katherine Campbell and Will Lamb.

In 1986, the department launched a full undergraduate honours degree programme in Scottish Ethnology, comprising courses in topics such as custom and belief, oral narrative, ethnomusicology, material culture, cultural revivalism, emigrant traditions, traditional drama, heritage and the supernatural world. 

Following a major re-organisation of the structure of the University of Edinburgh, the teaching of these programmes transferred to the department of Celtic and Scottish Studies within the School of Literature, Languages and Cultures. 

The title, School of Scottish Studies, now applies to the archival holdings only, and since 2018, it has come under the management of the Centre for Research Collections.

The Folklore of Ireland Society

The object of the society as stated in the editorial of the first issue of Béaloideas, which appeared in June 1927, was to collect, preserve and publish the folklore of Ireland. 

The Society’s journal, Béaloideas, which first appeared in 1927, now numbers over eighty volumes and can be accessed online at www.jstor.org. 

Over the years the Society also produced other publications including A Handbook of Irish Folklore (1942) by Seán Ó Súilleabháin. 

The Society also organises an annual series of public lectures on various aspects of folk tradition. Members of the Society are entitled to attend the lectures and to receive a copy of Béaloideas. Some back-issues of Béaloideas are available to purchase. If interested please contact the society 

The Folklore of Ireland Society,
c/o The National Folklore Collection,
John Henry Newman Building (Ground Floor, Block F),

University College Dublin,
Belfield, Dublin 4, Ireland.
Tel: +353 1 716 8216

Woody Guthrie – Recording with Moses Asch

Woodrow Wilson Guthrie July 14, 1912 – October 3, 1967) was an American singer-songwriter, one of the most significant figures in American folk music; his music, including songs, such as "This Land Is Your Land", has inspired several generations both politically and musically. He wrote hundreds of political, folk, and children's songs, along with ballads and improvised works. 

His album of songs about the Dust Bowl period, Dust Bowl Ballads, is included on Mojo magazine's list of 100 Records That Changed The World. Many of his recorded songs are archived in the Library of Congress. Songwriters such as Bob Dylan, Phil Ochs, Johnny Cash, Bruce Springsteen, Robert Hunter, Harry Chapin, John Mellencamp, Pete Seeger, Andy Irvine, Joe Strummer, Billy Bragg, Jerry Garcia, Jay Farrar, Bob Weir, Jeff Tweedy, Bob Childers, Sammy Walker, Tom Paxton, AJJ, Brian Fallon, and Sixto Rodríguez have acknowledged Guthrie as a major influence. He frequently performed with the slogan "This machine kills fascists" displayed on his guitar.

Cecil Sharp House – The English Folk Dance and Song Society

Website www.efdss.org

The English Folk Dance and Song Society EFDSS, or pronounced was formed in 1932 when two organisations merged: the Folk-Song Society and the English Folk Dance Society.

The EFDSS, a member-based organisation, was incorporated as a company limited by guarantee (no. 297142) in 1935 and became a registered charity (no. 305999) in England and Wales in 1963.

The Folk-Song Society, founded in London in 1898,[5] focused on collecting and publishing, primarily folk songs of Britain and Ireland although there was no formal limitation. Participants included Lucy Broadwood, Kate Lee, Cecil Sharp, Percy Grainger, Ralph Vaughan Williams, George Butterworth, George Barnet Gardiner, Henry Hammond, Anne Gilchrist and Ella Leather.

The English Folk Dance Society was founded in 1911 by Cecil Sharp. Maud Karpeles was a leading participant. 

Its purpose was to preserve and promote English folk dances in their traditional forms, including Morris and sword dances, traditional social dances, and interpretations of the dances published by John Playford. 

The first secretary of the society was Lady Mary Hepburn-Stuart-Forbes-Trefusis; Trefusis Hall in the EFDSS HQ, Cecil Sharp House, is named after her.

Smithsonian Folkways

Smithsonian Folkways is the nonprofit record label of the Smithsonian Institution. It is a part of the Smithsonian's Smithsonian Center for Folklife and Cultural Heritage, located at Capital Gallery in downtown Washington, D.C. 

The label was founded in 1987 after the family of Moses Asch, founder of Folkways Records, donated the entire Folkways Records label to the Smithsonian. 

The donation was made on the condition that the Institution continue Asch's policy that each of the more than 2,000 albums of Folkways Records remain in print forever, regardless of sales. 

Since then, the label has expanded on Asch's vision of documenting the sounds of the world, adding six other record labels to the collection, as well as releasing over 300 new recordings. 

Some well-known artists have contributed to the Smithsonian Folkways collection, including Pete Seeger, Ella Jenkins, Woody Guthrie, and Lead Belly. Famous songs include "This Land Is Your Land", "Goodnight, Irene", and "Midnight Special." 

Due to the unique nature of its recordings, which include an extensive collection of traditional American music, children's music, and international music.

Smithsonian Folkways has become an important collection to the musical community, especially to ethnomusicologists, who utilize the recordings of "people's music" from all over the world.

The Boundary Rider (1900)

When the sunset tips the ridges,
l can smell the distant gidgahs,
And through the fitful gloaming
There stands the gate ajar ;

Old Rover comes to meet me,
But no voice is there to greet me,
Save the voices of the night wind
Through the wilga and belar.

As the day is slowly dying,
Comes the endless sobbing, sighing,
And the branches of the she oaks
Are a-swaying in the breeze,

While the stars above are blinking
As they laugh at red Sol sinking,
As he leaves us for his friends
In other lands beyond the seas.

Now, again, the scene is shifting
As the misty breeze is lifting,
And the moon is slyly peeping
Through the clouds of silver grey ;

For the night is stealing o'er us,
And the kookaburra's chorus
Is ringing through the ridges,
As they sing their evening lay.

Now, some folks in the city,
May think of me with pity,
But my heart is filled with gladness
You town chaps never knew,

For my horse and dog they love me,
And the moon shines fair above me,
The wild bush is my sweetheart,
She is ever fair and true.

She has tender, loving glances
When the golden sunbeam dances,
And there's never any doubt about
The moaning of her smile.

Ah ! my friend, you need not pity-
I don't like your dusty city.
Where they meet us with a hand-shake
And detest us all the while.

But still there linger traces
Of some happy smiling faces,
And two bright eyes are beaming
With a fondness into mine ;

There's only one, if any,
Only one from but the many.
I would leave my wild bush home for,
Far along the western line.

A. A.

Notes

From the NSW Newspaper The Narromine News and Trangie Advocate 18 May 1900 p. 3.

Persian literature spans over two-and-a-half millennia. Its sources have been within Greater Iran including present-day Iran, Iraq, Afghanistan, the Caucasus, and Turkey, regions of Central Asia (such as Tajikistan) and South Asia where the Persian language has historically been either the native or official language. 

For instance, Rumi, one of best-loved Persian poets born in Balkh (in what is now the modern-day Afghanistan) or Vakhsh (in what is now the modern-day Tajikistan), wrote in Persian and lived in Konya (in what is now the modern-day Turkey), then the capital of the Seljuks in Anatolia. The Ghaznavids conquered large territories in Central and South Asia and adopted Persian as their court language. 

Jackal trying to lead the Lion astray

There is thus Persian literature from Iran, Mesopotamia, Azerbaijan, the wider Caucasus, Turkey, western parts of Pakistan, India, Tajikistan and other parts of Central Asia. 

Not all Persian literature is written in Persian, as some consider works written by ethnic Persians or Iranians in other languages, such as Greek and Arabic, to be included. At the same time, not all literature written in Persian is written by ethnic Persians or Iranians, as Turkic, Caucasian, and Indic poets and writers have also used the Persian language in the environment of Persianate cultures.

Quatrain on Heavenly Mountain

Quatrain on Heavenly Mountain

Chinese poetry is poetry written, spoken, or chanted in the Chinese language. While this last term comprises Classical Chinese, Standard Chinese, Mandarin Chinese, Yue Chinese, and other historical and vernacular forms of the language, its poetry generally falls into one of two primary types, Classical Chinese poetry and Modern Chinese poetry.

Poetry has consistently been held in extremely high regard in China, often incorporating expressive folk influences filtered through the minds of Chinese literati. 

In Chinese culture, poetry has provided a format and a forum for both public and private expressions of deep emotion, offering an audience of peers, readers, and scholars insight into the inner life of Chinese writers across more than two millennia. 

Westerners also have found in it an interesting and pleasurable field of study, in its exemplification of essential contrasts between the Western world and Chinese civilization, and on its own terms.

That day I will be free (1835)

ON FREEDOM.
TO THE EDITOR OF THE BUNYIP.

Sir.- In the year 1835 an individual, whose name I will not mention, but who was designated as "Frank, the Poet," appeared at the Police Court in Sydney ; and being a most incorrigible offender-having, by various sentences, accumulated enough punishment. to last the lives of three men-he was thus addressed by the presiding magistrate :-

MAGISTRATE-When do you think you will obtain your freedom ? You are constantly appearing here and receiving additional sentences.

FRANK -That I can easily answer, your Worship.
MAGISTRATE -I rather think it will be a most difficult matter for you to do, as it is almost beyond calculation. 

FRANK -Not so, your Worship; for if you will allow me I will tell you.
MAGISTRATE-Well, when ?

Frank's statement was as follows, and only now sees the light for the first time :-

When Sydney town, of high renown.
Goes to the Windsor races ;
When the Surrey hills, and Barker's mills,
Do visibly change places.
When New South Wales is blessed by God-
Which I think will never be-
And branches new grace Aaron's rod,
That day I will be free.

When Rossi-Bowman, and such men,
Show to poor convicts justice ;
And when the world is taxed again
By Caesar, famed Augustus ;
When David's bear and Balaam's ass
Dine with King Solomon's bee ;
And when Lord Farnham goes to mass-
That day I will be free.

When horses all wear Hessian boots,
And mountains are brought low ;
When bullocks play on German flutes,
And lilies cease to blow.
When geese like Presbyterians preach,
And truth is proved a libel ;
When heaven is within our reach,
And Deists love the Bible.

When Britain's isle goes to the Nile,
Or visits Londonderry ;
And the Hill of Howth goes to the South, 
Or to the County Kerry ;
When Dublin town, of good renown,
Pays a visit to the Dee ;
And when millstones on the ocean float- 
That day will see me free.
Magistrate-That is about the time. Take him away for another twelve months.
C. L.

Notes

John Meredith and Rex Whalan write about MacNamara's many punishments in 1835
including one 12 month sentence For Assaulting a constable on April 16th, the young Irishman was awarded 12 months work in irons, but this did little to quell his spirit, for exactly a month later he was flogged again. On this occasion it was 36 lashes for "refusing to work and insolence". 

[Frank the Poet p. 6.]

If this poem was written in 1835 it predates a very similar petition/poem in the  Trimingham manuscript, "For the Company Underground", by four years. The closeness of  the two compositions is remarkable and the fact that this "only now sees the light for  the first time", thirty years after it was composed on the spot and four years after
MacNamara's death suggests that his verse quickly spread orally rather than in print.

It could have been titled On Freedom like letter to the editor, but I have chosen to echo the poem by titling it "The Day I Will Be Free". It has not been cited before and has lain hidden in the Bunyip for 148 years, freed it seems by the electronic revolution.

From the South Australian Newspaper The Bunyip 12 Dec 1931 p. 18.

When I posted this to fellow Frank the Poet admirer and expert Les Murray he agreed that it was an important new find and as Quadrant Magazine poetry editor he ensure it was re- published.