Why This Font Is Everywhere: How Cooper Black Became Pop Culture’s Favorite Font

You know Times New Roman, you know Hel­veti­ca, you know Com­ic Sans — and though you may not real­ize it, you know Coop­er Black as well. Just think of the “VOTE FOR PEDRO” shirt worn in Napoleon Dyna­mite (and in real life for years there­after), or a few decades ear­li­er, the cov­er of Pet Sounds. In fact, the his­to­ry of Coop­er Black extends well before the Beach Boys’ mid-1960s mas­ter­piece; to see and hear the full sto­ry, watch the Vox video above. It begins, as nar­ra­tor Estelle Caswell explains, in Chica­go, at the turn of the 1920s when type design­er Oswald Bruce Coop­er cre­at­ed the series of fonts that bear his name. Near­ly a cen­tu­ry after the 1922 intro­duc­tion of the vari­ant Coop­er Black, we see it every­where, not just on album cov­ers and T‑shirts but store­fronts, movie posters, and can­dy wrap­pers all over the world.

 

The evo­lu­tion of print­ing, specif­i­cal­ly the evo­lu­tion from carved wood type to cast met­al, made Coop­er Black pos­si­ble. Its dis­tinc­tive look — and the curved edges that made it for­giv­ing to imper­fect print­ing process­es — made it a hit. And when film strips replaced met­al type, allow­ing the kind of close­ly-spaced print­ing that Coop­er thought best pre­sent­ed his font, the already-pop­u­lar Coop­er Black under­went a renais­sance.

“It thrived, as always, in adver­tis­ing,” says Caswell. “Its friend­ly curves fit the tongue-in-cheek aes­thet­ic of the 1960s and 70s, but it also showed up in mag­a­zines, movies, and hun­dreds of album cov­ers.” To typog­ra­phy enthu­si­asts, Pet Sounds seem­ing­ly remains Coop­er Black­’s finest hour: “Just look at the way the D works with the E and the Y, and ‘Boys’ fits so nice­ly over the O,” as art direc­tor Stephen Heller says in the video.

In the 1920s Coop­er Black not only show­cased cut­ting-edge print­ing tech­nol­o­gy, its aes­thet­ic looked exhil­a­rat­ing­ly mod­ern as well. Now, of course, it looks com­fort­ing­ly retro, evoca­tive of the era of hand­made graph­ic design slip­ping out of liv­ing mem­o­ry in our dig­i­tal 21st cen­tu­ry. But the 21st cen­tu­ry so far has also been a time of “retro­ma­nia”: with all pre­vi­ous media increas­ing­ly at our fin­ger­tips, we draw inspi­ra­tion (and even mate­r­i­al) for our art and design more direct­ly and instinc­tive­ly than ever from the trends of the past. No won­der we con­tin­ue to feel a res­o­nance in Coop­er Black, whose let­ters, as Caswell puts it, bring with them the weight of “a cen­tu­ry’s worth of changes in tech­nol­o­gy and pop cul­ture.” Nor is Coop­er Black­’s next cen­tu­ry, what­ev­er uses it sees the font put to, like­ly to dimin­ish its appeal.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The His­to­ry of Typog­ra­phy Told in Five Ani­mat­ed Min­utes

Com­ic Sans Turns 25: Graph­ic Design­er Vin­cent Connare Explains Why He Cre­at­ed the Most Hat­ed Font in the World

Down­load Hel­l­veti­ca, a Font that Makes the Ele­gant Spac­ing of Hel­veti­ca Look as Ugly as Pos­si­ble

The Mak­ing (and Remak­ing) of the Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds, Arguably the Great­est Rock Album of All Time

Enter the Cov­er Art Archive: A Mas­sive Col­lec­tion of 800,000 Album Cov­ers from the 1950s through 2018

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall, on Face­book, or on Insta­gram.

Take Free Online Courses on African-American History from Yale and Stanford: From Emancipation, to the Civil Rights Movement, and Beyond

As every Amer­i­can knows, Feb­ru­ary is Black His­to­ry Month. And as every Amer­i­can also knows — if the events of 2020 haven’t warped their sense of time too bad­ly — is isn’t Feb­ru­ary right now. But thanks to online learn­ing tech­nol­o­gy, we all have the free­dom to study any sub­ject we want, as much as we want, when­ev­er we want, irre­spec­tive of the time of year. Sources of inter­net-based edu­ca­tion have pro­lif­er­at­ed in the 21st cen­tu­ry, but long-respect­ed insti­tu­tions of high­er learn­ing have also got in on the action. Yale Uni­ver­si­ty, for exam­ple, has pro­duced the online course African Amer­i­can His­to­ry: Eman­ci­pa­tion to the Present, whose 25 lec­tures by his­to­ry pro­fes­sor Jonathan Hol­loway you can watch on YouTube, or at Yale’s web site. The first lec­ture appears above.

Orig­i­nal­ly record­ed in the spring of 2010, Hol­loway’s course exam­ines “the African Amer­i­can expe­ri­ence in the Unit­ed States from 1863 to the present,” involv­ing such chap­ters of his­to­ry as “the end of the Civ­il War and the begin­ning of Recon­struc­tion” and “African Amer­i­cans’ urban­iza­tion expe­ri­ences.”

It also includes lec­tures on the “thought and lead­er­ship of Book­er T. Wash­ing­ton, Ida B. Wells-Bar­nett, W.E.B. Du Bois, Mar­cus Gar­vey, Mar­tin Luther King Jr., and Mal­colm X” — all writ­ers and thinkers Open Cul­ture read­ers will have encoun­tered before, but a course like African Amer­i­can His­to­ry: Eman­ci­pa­tion to the Present offers the oppor­tu­ni­ty to con­sid­er their lives and work in clear­er con­text and greater detail.

Black his­to­ry has deep­er roots in some parts of the Unit­ed States than oth­ers. But that does­n’t mean the uni­ver­si­ties of the west have noth­ing to offer in this depart­ment: take, for exam­ple, Stan­ford Uni­ver­si­ty’s African-Amer­i­can His­to­ry: Mod­ern Free­dom Strug­gle, taught by the his­to­ri­an (and edi­tor of MLK’s papers) Clay­borne Car­son. Avail­able to watch on YouTube and iTunes (or right above), its 18 lec­tures deliv­er an intro­duc­tion to “African-Amer­i­can his­to­ry, with par­tic­u­lar empha­sis on the polit­i­cal thought and protest move­ments of the peri­od after 1930, focus­ing on select­ed indi­vid­u­als who have shaped and been shaped by mod­ern African-Amer­i­can strug­gles for free­dom and jus­tice.” Tak­en togeth­er, these online cours­es offer you more than enough mate­r­i­al to hold your own Black His­to­ry Month right now.

Note: Clay Car­son­’s course can also be tak­en as a MOOC on edX. Enroll now in Amer­i­can Prophet: The Inner Life and Glob­al Vision of Mar­tin Luther King, Jr. And find the cours­es list­ed above in our col­lec­tion, 1,700 Free Online Cours­es from Top Uni­ver­si­ties.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Online Degrees & Mini Degrees: Explore Mas­ters, Mini Mas­ters, Bach­e­lors & Mini Bach­e­lors from Top Uni­ver­si­ties

Free Online His­to­ry Cours­es

Watch Cor­nel West’s Free Online Course on W.E.B. Du Bois, the Great 20th Cen­tu­ry Pub­lic Intel­lec­tu­al

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall, on Face­book, or on Insta­gram.

John Cleese’s Comedically Explains the Psychological Advantages of Extremism: “It Makes You Feel Good Because It Provides You with Enemies”

Extrem­ist: in any polit­i­cal squab­ble, and espe­cial­ly any online polit­i­cal squab­ble, the label is sure to get slapped on some­one soon­er or lat­er. Of course, we nev­er con­sid­er our­selves extrem­ists: it’s the para­me­ters of accept­able polit­i­cal dis­cus­sion that wrong­ly frame our entire­ly rea­son­able, truth-informed views. But what if we were to embrace the extreme? “What we nev­er hear about extrem­ism is its advan­tages,” says Mon­ty Python’s John Cleese in the tele­vi­sion adver­tise­ment above. “The biggest advan­tage of extrem­ism is that it makes you feel good because it pro­vides you with ene­mies.” When you have ene­mies, “you can pre­tend that all the bad­ness in the whole world is in your ene­mies and all the good­ness in the whole world is in you.”

If you “have a lot of anger and resent­ment in you any­way,” you can jus­ti­fy your own unciv­i­lized behav­ior “because these ene­mies of yours are such very bad per­sons, and that if it was­n’t for them, you’d actu­al­ly be good-natured and cour­te­ous and ratio­nal all the time.” Sign on with the “hard left,” Cleese says, and you’ll receive “their list of autho­rized ene­mies: almost all kinds of author­i­ty, espe­cial­ly the police, the City, Amer­i­cans, judges, multi­na­tion­al cor­po­ra­tions, pub­lic schools, fur­ri­ers, news­pa­per own­ers, fox hunters, gen­er­als, class trai­tors — and of course, mod­er­ates.” If you pre­fer the “hard right,” they have a list of their own, one includ­ing “noisy minor­i­ty groups, unions, Rus­sia, weirdos, demon­stra­tors, wel­fare sponges, med­dle­some cler­gy, peaceniks, the BBC, strik­ers, social work­ers, com­mu­nists — and of course, mod­er­ates.”

As Cleese tweet­ed this past week­end, “Hard to tell if I record­ed this 30 years or 10 min­utes ago.” In fact he record­ed it more than 30 years ago, as an endorse­ment of the cen­trist SDP-Lib­er­al Alliance between the Unit­ed King­dom’s Social Demo­c­ra­t­ic Par­ty and Lib­er­al Par­ty. Hav­ing formed in 1981 and gone defunct by 1988 (when it became the par­ty now known as the Lib­er­al Democ­rats), the SDP-Lib­er­al Alliance leaves lit­tle in the way of a lega­cy, but this clip has only grown more rel­e­vant with time. As an extrem­ist, Cleese reminds us “you can strut around abus­ing peo­ple and telling them you could eat them for break­fast and still think of your­self as a cham­pi­on of the truth, a fight­er for the greater good, and not the rather sad, para­noid schizoid that you real­ly are” — a state­ment that, uttered in our inter­net era, would sure­ly make more than a few ene­mies.

via Boing­Bo­ing

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Mon­ty Python’s John Cleese Wor­ries That Polit­i­cal Cor­rect­ness Will Lead Us into a Humor­less World, Rem­i­nis­cent of Orwell’s 1984

John Cleese on How “Stu­pid Peo­ple Have No Idea How Stu­pid They Are” (a.k.a. the Dun­ning-Kruger Effect)

John Cleese Cre­ates Ads for the Amer­i­can Philo­soph­i­cal Asso­ci­a­tion

The Psy­chol­o­gy That Leads Peo­ple to Vote for Extrem­ists & Auto­crats: The The­o­ry of Cog­ni­tive Clo­sure

John Cleese Plays the Dev­il, Makes a Spe­cial Appeal for Hell, 1966

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall, on Face­book, or on Insta­gram.

Listen to Medieval Covers of “Creep,” “Pumped Up Kicks,” “Bad Romance” & More by Hildegard von Blingin’

All ye bul­ly-rooks with your buskin boots 

Best ye go, best ye go

Out­run my bow

All ye bul­ly-rooks with your buskin boots

Best ye go, best ye go, faster than mine arrow

If bard­core is a thing—and trust us, it is right now—Hilde­gard von Blin­gin’ is the bright­est star in its fir­ma­ment.

The unknown vocal­ist, pure of throat, pays heed to the fas­ci­nat­ing 12th-cen­tu­ry abbess and com­pos­er Saint Hilde­gard of Bin­gen by choice of pseu­do­nym, while demon­strat­ing a sim­i­lar flair for poet­ic lan­guage.

Von Blingin’s nim­ble lyri­cal rework­ing of Fos­ter the People’s 2010 mon­ster hit, “Pumped Up Kicks,” makes deft use of fel­low bard­core prac­tion­er Cor­nelius Link’s copy­right-free instru­men­tal score and the clos­est medieval syn­onyms avail­able.

For the record, Webster’s 1913 dic­tio­nary defines a “bul­ly-rook” as a bul­ly, but the term could also be used in a josh­ing, chops-bust­ing sort of way, such as when The Mer­ry Wives of Windsor’s innkeep­er trots it out to greet lov­able repro­bate, Sir John Fal­staff.

And as any fan of Game of Thrones or The Hunger Games can attest, an arrow can prove as lethal as a gun.

Song­writer Mark Fos­ter told Billboard’s Xan­der Zell­ner last Decem­ber that he had been think­ing of retir­ing “Pumped Up Kicks,” as lis­ten­ers are now con­vinced it’s a boun­cy-sound­ing take on school shoot­ings, rather than a more gen­er­al­ized attempt to get inside the head of a troubled—and fictional—youngster.

With school out of ses­sion since March, it’s an excel­lent time for von Blin­gin’ to pick up the torch and bear this song back to the past.

Dit­to the tim­ing of von Blingin’s ode to Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance”:

I want thine ugly, I want thy dis­ease

Take aught from thee shall I if it can be free

No Celtic harp, wood­en recorders, or adjust­ment of pos­ses­sive pro­nouns can dis­guise the jolt those open­ing lyrics assume in the mid­dle of a glob­al pan­dem­ic.

(St. Hilde­gard escaped the medieval period’s best known plague, the Black Death, by virtue of hav­ing been born some 250 years before it struck.)

Von Blingin’s lat­est release is an extreme­ly faith­ful take on Radiohead’s “Creep”, with just a few minor tweaks to pull it into medieval lyri­cal align­ment:

Thou float’st like a feath­er

In a beau­ti­ful world

The com­ments sec­tion sug­gest that the peas­ants are eager to get in on the act.

Some are express­ing their enthu­si­asm in approx­i­mate olde Eng­lish…

Oth­ers ques­tion why smygel, eldrich, wyr­den or wastrel were not pressed into ser­vice as replace­ments for creep and weirdo..

To bor­row a phrase from one such jester, best get your requests in “before the tik­toks come for it.”

Lis­ten to Hilde­gard Von Blin­gin’ on Sound Cloud and check out the bard­core sub-red­dit for more exam­ples of the form.

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

Expe­ri­ence the Mys­ti­cal Music of Hilde­gard Von Bin­gen: The First Known Com­pos­er in His­to­ry (1098 – 1179)

Man­u­script Reveals How Medieval Nun, Joan of Leeds, Faked Her Own Death to Escape the Con­vent

1200 Years of Women Com­posers: A Free 78-Hour Music Playlist That Takes You From Medieval Times to Now

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine. Help con­tain the plague spread with her series of free down­load­able posters, encour­ag­ing cit­i­zens to wear masks in pub­lic set­tings. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

After MLK’s Assassination, a Schoolteacher Conducted a Famous Experiment–“Blue Eyes/Brown Eyes”–to Teach Kids About Discrimination

Get­ting his­to­ry across to young stu­dents is chal­leng­ing enough, but what should a teacher do when actu­al his­to­ry-mak­ing events hap­pen on their watch? They have to be acknowl­edged, but to what extent do they have to be explained, even “taught”? Of the teach­ers who have turned his­to­ry-in-the-mak­ing into a les­son, per­haps the most famous is Jane Elliott of Riceville, Iowa. On April 5, 1968, the day after Mar­tin Luther King Jr.‘s assas­si­na­tion, she divid­ed her class­room of third-graders along col­or lines: blue-eyed and brown-eyed. On the first day she grant­ed the brown-eyed stu­dents such spe­cial priv­i­leges as desks in the front rows, sec­ond help­ings at lunch, and five extra min­utes of recess. The next day she reversed the sit­u­a­tion, and the blue-eyed kids had the perks.

What brought seri­ous atten­tion to Elliot­t’s small-town class­room exper­i­ment was the result­ing arti­cle in the Riceville Recorder, which report­ed some of what her stu­dents wrote in their assign­ments respond­ing to the expe­ri­ence. The Asso­ci­at­ed Press picked up the arti­cle and soon Elliott received a call from The Tonight Show invit­ing her to come chat with John­ny Car­son about her “Blue Eyes/Brown Eyes” exer­cise on nation­al tele­vi­sion.

“I did­n’t know how this exer­cise would work,” Elliott tells Jim­my Fal­lon on the clip from the cur­rent Tonight Show at the top of the post. “If I had known how it would work, I prob­a­bly would­n’t have done it. If I had known that, after I did that exer­cise, I lost all my friends, no teacher would speak to me where they could be seen speak­ing to me, because it was­n’t good pol­i­tics to be seen talk­ing to the town’s only ‘N‑word lover.’ ”

Elliot­t’s fam­i­ly also expe­ri­enced severe blow­back from her sud­den fame, but it did­n’t stop her from fur­ther­ing the clear­ly res­o­nant idea she had devised. She con­tin­ued to per­form Blue Eyes/Brown Eyes in class: the third time, it was filmed and became the 1970 tele­vi­sion doc­u­men­tary The Eye of the Storm. (Some of the lan­guage used by her stu­dents sure­ly would­n’t make it to the air today.) Fif­teen years lat­er, PBS’ Front­line reunit­ed Elliot­t’s third-grade class of 1970 for its Emmy Award-win­ning episode A Class Divid­ed, and a decade there­after Ger­man film­mak­er Bertram Ver­haag would again film Elliott per­form­ing her sig­na­ture exer­cise for the doc­u­men­tary Blue Eyed. In a vari­ety of set­tings across Amer­i­ca and the world, Elliott con­tin­ues, in her late eight­ies, to make her point. It isn’t always well received, as she reveals in this Front­line fol­low-up inter­view, and at times has even drawn threats of vio­lence. “I can be scared, but I won’t be scared to death,” she says. “Or, at my age, of death.”

via Boing Boing

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Mar­tin Luther King, Jr.’s Hand­writ­ten Syl­labus & Final Exam for the Phi­los­o­phy Course He Taught at More­house Col­lege (1962)

How Mar­tin Luther King, Jr. Used Niet­zsche, Hegel & Kant to Over­turn Seg­re­ga­tion in Amer­i­ca

Read Mar­tin Luther King and The Mont­gomery Sto­ry: The Influ­en­tial 1957 Civ­il Rights Com­ic Book

How a Virus Spreads, and How to Avoid It: A For­mer NASA Engi­neer Demon­strates with a Black­light in a Class­room

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall, on Face­book, or on Insta­gram.

Why James Baldwin’s Writing Stays Powerful: An Artfully Animated Introduction to the Author of Notes of a Native Son

Every writer hopes to be sur­vived by his work. In the case of James Bald­win, the 32 years since his death seem only to have increased the rel­e­vance of the writ­ing he left behind. Con­sist­ing of nov­els, essays, and even a chil­dren’s book, Bald­win’s body of work offers dif­fer­ent points of entry to dif­fer­ent read­ers. Many begin with with Go Tell it on the Moun­tain, the semi-auto­bi­o­graph­i­cal debut nov­el in which he mounts a cri­tique of the Pen­te­costal Church. Oth­ers may find their gate­way in Bald­win’s fic­tion­al treat­ment of desire and love under adverse cir­cum­stances: among men in Paris in Gio­van­ni’s Room, for exam­ple, or teenagers in Mem­phis in If Beale Street Could Talk. But unlike most nov­el­ists, Bald­win’s name con­tin­ues to draw just as many acco­lades — if not more of them — for his non­fic­tion.

Those look­ing to read Bald­win’s essays would do well to start with his first col­lec­tion of them, 1955’s Notes of a Native Son. In assem­bling pieces he orig­i­nal­ly pub­lished in mag­a­zines like Harper’s and the Par­ti­san Review, the book reflects the impor­tance to the young Bald­win of what would become the major themes of his career, like race and expa­tri­ate life.

Though res­i­dent at dif­fer­ent times in Turkey, Switzer­land, and (right up until his dying day) France, he nev­er took his eyes off his home­land of the Unit­ed States of Amer­i­ca for long. Nor, in fact, did the Unit­ed States of Amer­i­ca take its eyes off him. “Over the course of the 1960s,” says Ford­ham Uni­ver­si­ty polit­i­cal sci­ence pro­fes­sor Christi­na Greer in the ani­mat­ed TED-Ed intro­duc­tion to Bald­win above, “the FBI amassed almost 2,000 doc­u­ments” as they inves­ti­gat­ed his back­ground and activ­i­ties.

That the U.S. gov­ern­ment saw Bald­win as so polit­i­cal­ly dan­ger­ous is rea­son enough to read his books. But as one of Amer­i­ca’s most promi­nent men of let­ters, he could hard­ly be writ­ten off as a sim­ple fire­brand. Though known for his inci­sive views of white and black Amer­i­ca, he believed that every­one, what­ev­er their race, “was inex­tri­ca­bly enmeshed in the same social fab­ric,” that “peo­ple are trapped in his­to­ry, and his­to­ry is trapped in them.” As he found recep­tive audi­ences for his argu­ments in print and on tele­vi­sion, “his fac­ul­ty with words led the FBI to view him as a threat.” But that very fac­ul­ty with words — insep­a­ra­ble, as in all the great­est essay­ists, from the astute­ness of the per­cep­tions they express — has assured him a still-grow­ing read­er­ship in the 21st cen­tu­ry. Con­tend­ing with the most volatile social and polit­i­cal issues of his time cer­tain­ly did­n’t low­er Bald­win’s pro­file, but any giv­en page of his prose sug­gests that what­ev­er he’d cho­sen to write about, we’d still be read­ing him today.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Great Cul­tur­al Icons Talk Civ­il Rights: James Bald­win, Mar­lon Bran­do, Har­ry Bela­fonte & Sid­ney Poiti­er (1963)

James Bald­win Bests William F. Buck­ley in 1965 Debate at Cam­bridge Uni­ver­si­ty

James Baldwin’s One & Only, Delight­ful­ly Illus­trat­ed Children’s Book, Lit­tle Man Lit­tle Man: A Sto­ry of Child­hood (1976)

James Bald­win: Wit­ty, Fiery in Berke­ley, 1979

Chris Rock Reads James Baldwin’s Still Time­ly Let­ter on Race in Amer­i­ca: “We Can Make What Amer­i­ca Must Become”

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall, on Face­book, or on Insta­gram.

How the “First Photojournalist,” Mathew Brady, Shocked the Nation with Photos from the Civil War

In her 1938 essay “Three Guineas,” Vir­ginia Woolf won­dered “whether when we look at the same pho­tographs we feel the same things.” Woolf half-hoped that gris­ly images of the dead from the Span­ish Civ­il War might help put an end to the spread­ing glob­al con­flict. She rec­og­nized, writes Susan Son­tag in Regard­ing the Pain of Oth­ers, photography’s abil­i­ty “to viv­i­fy the con­dem­na­tion of war” and to “bring home, for a spell, a por­tion of its real­i­ty to those who have no expe­ri­ence of war at all.”

Math­ew Brady, the man cred­it­ed as the “father of pho­to­jour­nal­ism,” had no such lofty ambi­tions at the begin­ning of the Civ­il War. At first, he offered to pho­to­graph sol­diers before they left for the bat­tle­field, to pre­serve their pre-war image for pos­ter­i­ty should they not return. (He cyn­i­cal­ly adver­tised his ser­vices with the line, “You can­not tell how soon it may be too late.”) Brady was already a suc­cess­ful pho­tog­ra­ph­er and had tak­en por­traits of Abra­ham Lin­coln, Andrew Jack­son, Daniel Web­ster, and Edgar Allan Poe.

Hav­ing stud­ied under Samuel Morse, who brought the daguerreo­type tech­nique to the U.S., Brady opened his first stu­dio in New York in 1844 and became high­ly sought after. He might have safe­ly wait­ed out the war in the city, oper­at­ing a thriv­ing busi­ness, but, as he remem­bered lat­er, “I had to go. A spir­it in my feet said ‘Go,’ and I went.” Brady took his peti­tion all the way to Lin­coln, who approved it on the con­di­tion that Brady finance the doc­u­men­ta­tion him­self. “At his own expense,” notes the Amer­i­can Bat­tle­field Trust, “he orga­nized a group of pho­tog­ra­phers and staff to fol­low the troops as the first field-pho­tog­ra­phers.”

Soon after, “in 1862, Brady shocked the nation when he dis­played the first pho­tographs of the car­nage of the war in his New York Stu­dio in an exhib­it enti­tled ‘The Dead of Anti­etam.’ These images, pho­tographed by Alexan­der Gard­ner and James F. Gib­son, were the first to pic­ture a bat­tle­field before the dead had been removed and the first to be dis­trib­uted to a mass pub­lic.” The New York Times respond­ed as Woolf would sev­en­ty-six years lat­er, writ­ing of the pho­tos:

Mr. Brady has done some­thing to bring home to us the ter­ri­ble real­i­ty and earnest­ness of war. If he has not brought bod­ies and laid them in our door-yards and along the streets, he has done some­thing very like it.

Shocked the nation may have been, but the war dragged on three more years. Brady and his team not only pho­tographed the dead—they cap­tured every­thing from hot-air bal­loons to pon­toon bridges to breast­works to win­ter huts and wag­on trains. Brady went bank­rupt fund­ing the mak­ing of over 10,000 plates, many of them har­row­ing depic­tions of the war’s bru­tal­i­ty, before the U.S. gov­ern­ment final­ly bought them for $25,000.

The Pub­lic Domain Review has anoth­er har­row­ing col­lec­tion of Brady’s daguerreo­types—por­traits he took before the war that have decayed and dis­tort­ed, as have a great many of Brady’s pho­tos of the war dead. These images “were extreme­ly sen­si­tive to scratch­es, dust, hair, etc, and par­tic­u­lar­ly the rub­bing of the glass cov­er if they glue hold­ing it in place dete­ri­o­rat­ed.” Despite pho­tog­ra­phers’ promis­es to the con­trary, “this fix­ing” of the image for pos­ter­i­ty “was far from per­ma­nent.” See more of Brady’s Civ­il War pho­tographs at the Nation­al Archives.

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

The His­to­ry of the U.S. Civ­il War Visu­al­ized Month by Month and State by State, in an Info­graph­ic from 1897

Eerie 19th Cen­tu­ry Pho­tographs of Ghosts: See Images from the Long, Strange Tra­di­tion of “Spir­it Pho­tog­ra­phy”

The Civ­il War & Recon­struc­tion: A Free Course from Yale Uni­ver­si­ty

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Imagining the Martin Luther King and Malcolm X Debate That Never Happened

Amer­i­can his­to­ry as it’s usu­al­ly taught likes to focus on rival­ries, and there are many involv­ing big per­son­al­i­ties and major his­tor­i­cal stakes. Abra­ham Lin­coln and Stephen Dou­glas, Thomas Jef­fer­son and Alexan­der Hamil­ton, W.E.B. DuBois and Book­er T. Wash­ing­ton. These fig­ures are set up to rep­re­sent the “both sides” we expect of every polit­i­cal ques­tion. While the issues are over­sim­pli­fied (there are always more than two sides and pol­i­tics isn’t a sport) the fig­ures in ques­tion gen­uine­ly rep­re­sent­ed very dif­fer­ent per­spec­tives on pow­er and progress.

When it comes to the his­to­ry of the Civ­il Rights move­ment, we are giv­en anoth­er such rival­ry, between Mar­tin Luther King, Jr. and Mal­colm X. Their ideas and influ­ence are pit­ted against each oth­er as though they had shared a debate stage. In fact, the two lead­ers met only once, dur­ing Sen­ate debates on the Civ­il Rights Act of 1964. “King was step­ping out of a news con­fer­ence,” writes DeNeen L. Brown at The Wash­ing­ton Post, when Mal­colm X, dressed in an ele­gant black over­coat and wear­ing his sig­na­ture horn-rimmed glass­es, greet­ed him.”

“Well, Mal­colm, good to see you,” King said.

“Good to see you,” Mal­colm X replied.

Cam­eras clicked as the two men walked down the Sen­ate hall togeth­er.

“I’m throw­ing myself into the heart of the civ­il rights strug­gle,” Mal­colm X told King.

Lat­er, King would express his dis­agree­ment with Malcolm’s “polit­i­cal and philo­soph­i­cal views—at least inso­far as I under­stand where he now stands.” The com­ment allowed for an evo­lu­tion in X’s thought that would, in fact, occur that year, while lat­er events would push King in a far more rad­i­cal direc­tion. As Brown writes:

Although the two men held what appeared to be dia­met­ri­cal­ly oppos­ing views on the strug­gle for equal rights, schol­ars say by the end of their lives their ide­olo­gies were evolv­ing. King was becom­ing more mil­i­tant in his views of eco­nom­ic jus­tice for black peo­ple and more vocal in his crit­i­cism of the Viet­nam War. Mal­colm X, who had bro­ken with the Nation of Islam, had dra­mat­i­cal­ly changed his views on race dur­ing his 1964 pil­grim­age to Mec­ca.

“Much of Amer­i­ca did not know the rad­i­cal King—and too few know today,” writes Cor­nell West in his intro­duc­tion to The Rad­i­cal King, a col­lec­tion of less­er-known speech­es and writ­ings. But “the FBI and US gov­ern­ment did. They called him ‘the most dan­ger­ous man in Amer­i­ca.’” Mal­colm X’s extreme­ly harsh crit­i­cism of King as “a 20th-cen­tu­ry or mod­ern Uncle Tom” is even more unfair and unwar­rant­ed against this back­ground, espe­cial­ly giv­en the title of King’s final, unde­liv­ered, ser­mon: “Why Amer­i­ca May Go to Hell.”

In the years after X’s death, King fought for labor rights and advo­cat­ed for “a bet­ter dis­tri­b­u­tion of wealth,” writ­ing in 1966, “Amer­i­ca must move toward demo­c­ra­t­ic social­ism.” His anti-impe­ri­al­ist, anti-colo­nial stance alien­at­ed many for­mer sup­port­ers and enraged the gov­ern­ment, but “he refused to silence his voice in his quest for unarmed truth and uncon­di­tion­al love,” West writes. Maybe Malcolm’s unre­lent­ing crit­i­cisms played a part in King’s rad­i­cal­iza­tion.

The video “debate” above—actually a 9‑minute edit of their inter­view dis­cus­sions of each other—begins with one of Mal­colm X’s with­er­ing state­ments about King’s non­vi­o­lent resis­tance, which he char­ac­ter­izes as “defense­less­ness.” One can see, giv­en the ad hominem attacks, why King refused requests for a debate. Had it hap­pened, how­ev­er, it might have gone some­thing like this, with ques­tions focused sole­ly on vio­lence vs. non­vi­o­lence as effec­tive and/or moral­ly jus­ti­fi­able tac­tics for the Civ­il Rights strug­gle.

The nuances and sick­en­ing his­tor­i­cal ironies of the ques­tion get lost when dis­agree­ment is staged as a zero-sum prize­fight, as the Rocky theme in the intro not-so-sub­tly sug­gests it is. King, X, and vir­tu­al­ly every oth­er civ­il rights leader through­out his­to­ry, under­stood the prac­ti­cal impor­tance of self-defense in a vio­lent­ly racist state. “Even the paci­fist King was a firm advo­cate of black gun own­er­ship,” writes John Mer­field at Wis­con­sin Pub­lic Radio,” although he, like oth­ers, drew a sharp dis­tinc­tion between self-defense, which he saw as legit­i­mate, and polit­i­cal vio­lence, which he called fol­ly.”

King also staunch­ly refused to address the ques­tion of vio­lence out­side the larg­er ques­tion of jus­tice, with­out which, he said, there could be no peace. Move­ment lead­ers like Angela Davis who car­ried for­ward the rad­i­cal, anti-impe­ri­al­ist analy­sis of both the lat­er King and X would con­tin­ue to push against the sim­plis­tic ques­tion of whether vio­lence is jus­ti­fied as a response to bru­tal oppres­sion. In a famous inter­view clip above, she demon­strates the absur­di­ty of the idea that peo­ple sub­ject­ed to racial ter­ror­ism by the author­i­ties and groups pro­tect­ed by them should have to answer charges of com­mit­ting polit­i­cal vio­lence.

The his­to­ry of racist killings is a long “unbro­ken line,” said Davis more recent­ly dur­ing the Fer­gu­son upris­ing. While Civ­il Rights lead­ers of the 20th cen­tu­ry may have dis­agreed about the right response, all of them agreed it had to end imme­di­ate­ly if the coun­try is to sur­vive and the promise of true free­dom to be real­ized.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch Mal­colm X Debate at Oxford, Quot­ing Lines from Shakespeare’s Ham­let (1964)

Mar­tin Luther King Jr. Explains the Impor­tance of Jazz: Hear the Speech He Gave at the First Berlin Jazz Fes­ti­val (1964)

Ava DuVernay’s Sel­ma Is Now Free to Stream Online: Watch the Award-Win­ning Director’s Film About Mar­tin Luther King’s 1965 Vot­ing-Rights March

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

« Go Back — More in this category... »
Quantcast