Search Results for "college"

Behold a Beautiful 400-Year-Old ‘Friendship Book’ Featuring the Signatures of Historic Figures

Main­tain­ing the bal­ance of pow­er among Euro­pean states has always been a fraught affair, but it was espe­cial­ly so in the years when mer­can­til­ism made frag­ile alliances dur­ing the reli­gious wars of the 17th cen­tu­ry. This was a time when mer­chants made excel­lent diplo­mats, not only because they trav­eled exten­sive­ly and learned for­eign tongues and cus­toms, but because they spoke the uni­ver­sal lan­guage of trade.

Ger­man mer­chant and diplo­mat Philipp Hain­hofer from Augs­burg was such a fig­ure, trav­el­ing from court to court to meet with Europe’s renowned dig­ni­taries. As he did so, he would ask them to sign his album ami­co­rum, or “friend­ship book,” also called a stamm­buch. Each sign­er would then “com­mis­sion an artist to cre­ate a paint­ing accom­pa­ny­ing their sig­na­tures,” Ali­son Flood writes at The Guardian.

“There are around 100 draw­ings” in his auto­graph book, known as the Große Stamm­buch, “which took more than 50 years to com­pile.” After Hainhofer’s death in 1647, his friend August the Younger—who helped col­lect the hun­dreds of thou­sand of books in the Her­zog August Bibliothek—tried to acquire the book but failed. Now it has final­ly land­ed in the huge library, one of the world’s old­est, almost 400 years lat­er, after a pur­chase at a pri­vate auc­tion this week.

Friend­ship books were com­mon­ly used at the time to record the names of fam­i­ly and friends. Stu­dents used them as year­books, and Hain­hofer began his col­lec­tion of sig­na­tures as a col­lege stu­dent. He grad­u­al­ly gained a select clien­tele as his career advanced. Sig­na­to­ries, the His­to­ry Blog points out, “include Holy Roman Emper­or Rudolf II, anoth­er HRE Matthias, Chris­t­ian IV of Den­mark and Nor­way, Cosi­mo II de’Medici, Grand Duke of Tus­cany…” and many oth­ers.

Hainhofer’s Große Stamm­buch is, as you can see, a beau­ti­ful work of art—or almost 100 col­lect­ed works of art—in its own right. “The elab­o­rate­ness of the illus­tra­tions direct­ly cor­re­sponds to the signatory’s sta­tus and rank in soci­ety,” as Grace Ebert notes at Colos­sal. It is also a fas­ci­nat­ing record of Ear­ly Mod­ern Euro­pean pol­i­tics, trade, and diplo­ma­cy, a fine art all its own.

via Colos­sal

Relat­ed Con­tent:  

160,000 Pages of Glo­ri­ous Medieval Man­u­scripts Dig­i­tized: Vis­it the Bib­lio­the­ca Philadel­phien­sis

800 Illu­mi­nat­ed Medieval Man­u­scripts Are Now Online: Browse & Down­load Them Cour­tesy of the British Library and Bib­lio­thèque Nationale de France

The Vat­i­can Library Goes Online and Dig­i­tizes Tens of Thou­sands of Man­u­scripts, Books, Coins, and More

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

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Nina Simone Writes an Admiring Letter to Langston Hughes: “Brother, You’ve Got a Fan Now!” (1966)

Nina Simone’s cre­ative and polit­i­cal com­mu­ni­ty meant every­thing to her, and the many loss­es she suf­fered in the 60s sent her deep­er into the depres­sion of the last decades of her life. “Langston Hugh­es, James Bald­win, and Lor­raine Hans­ber­ry [were] promi­nent,” writes Malik Gaines at LitHub, “among… social­ly engaged writ­ers and drama­tists” whom she con­sid­ered not only her “polit­i­cal tutors” but also her heroes and clos­est friends. She nev­er stopped griev­ing the loss of Hans­ber­ry and Hugh­es and fre­quent­ly memo­ri­al­ized them in trib­utes like “Back­lash Blues.”

Writ­ten by Hugh­es, and one of Simone’s fiercest and most time­ly civ­il rights songs, “Back­lash Blues” rep­re­sents the sig­nif­i­cant influ­ence the poet had on her and her art. In a live 1967 record­ing, she sings, “When Langston Hugh­es died—He told me many months before—Nina keep work­ing until they open up that door.” The two first met when Simone was still Eunice Way­mon from Try­on, North Car­oli­na: an aspir­ing clas­si­cal pianist, “pres­i­dent of the 11th-grade class and an offi­cer with the school’s NAACP chap­ter,” explains Andrew J. Fletch­er, a board mem­ber of the Nina Simone Project in Asheville.

This was 1949, and Hugh­es had come to Asheville to address Allen High School, the pri­vate school for African Amer­i­can girls Simone attend­ed through a schol­ar­ship that her music teacher and ear­ly cham­pi­on col­lect­ed from her home­town. The poet “could not have known,” Maria Popo­va writes at Brain Pick­ings, “that [Simone] would soon rev­o­lu­tion­ize the music canon under her stage name.” But near­ly ten years lat­er, he rec­og­nized her tal­ent imme­di­ate­ly.

On the release of Simone’s first album, Lit­tle Girl Blue, Hugh­es was “so stunned that he laud­ed it with lyri­cal ardor” in his col­umn for the Chica­go Defend­er.

She is dif­fer­ent. So was Bil­lie Hol­i­day, St. Fran­cis, and John Donne. So in Mort Sahl. She is a club mem­ber, a coloured girl, an Afro-Amer­i­can, a homey from Down Home. She has hit the Big Town, the big towns, the LP discs and the TV shows — and she is still from down home. She did it most­ly all by her­self. Her name is Nina Simone.

They would become close friends and mutu­al admir­ers. Hugh­es sent her “books he thought would inspire her,” includ­ing sev­er­al of his own, and wrote “words for her to set to song.” She wrote to him with earnest expres­sions of appre­ci­a­tion, espe­cial­ly in the let­ter here, penned in 1966 just before Hugh­es’ death.

Simone had just read Hugh­es’ auto­bi­og­ra­phy The Big Sea. The book, she says, “gives me such pleasure—you have no idea! It is so fun­ny.” She also writes, with can­dor:

Then too, if I’m in a neg­a­tive mood and want to get more neg­a­tive (about the racial prob­lem, I mean) if I want to get down­right mean and vio­lent I go straight to this book and there is also mate­r­i­al for that. Amaz­ing—

I use the book—what I mean is I under­line all mean­ing­ful sen­tences to me…. And as I said there is a wealth of knowl­edge con­cern­ing the negro prob­lem, espe­cial­ly if one wants to trace the many many areas that we’ve had it rough in all these years—sometimes when I’m with white “lib­er­als” who want to know why we’re so bitter—I for­get (I don’t forget—I just get tongue-tied) how com­plete has been the white races’ rejec­tion of us all these years and then when this hap­pens I go get your book.

Hugh­es’ is rarely “mean and vio­lent,” but Simone brought to her read­ing her own despair and rage and raw sense of rejec­tion, emo­tions she was nev­er afraid to explore in her work or talk about with humor and fierce ire in her life. “Broth­er, you’ve got a fan,” she gush­es. The Big Sea “grips my imag­i­na­tion imme­di­ate­ly plus every­thing in it I iden­ti­fy with, even your going to sea and I’ve nev­er been to sea.” She had not been to sea, but she had been adrift, “depressed, alien­at­ed and low,” as she sang at More­house Col­lege in 1969 in a per­for­mance of her civ­il rights anthem and trib­ute to Lor­raine Hans­ber­ry, “To Be Young, Gift­ed and Black.”

The adlib framed Simone’s feel­ings with the same “emo­tion­al and polit­i­cal dimen­sions,” writes Gaines, she found in Hugh­es’ work. Though she does not men­tion it in her let­ter, her anno­tat­ed copy of The Big Sea sure­ly marks up the pas­sage below, in which Hugh­es’ describes his ear­ly unhap­pi­ness and his trans­for­ma­tive encounter with art:

When I was in the sec­ond grade, my grand­moth­er took me to Lawrence to raise me. And I was unhap­py for a long time, and very lone­some, liv­ing with my grand­moth­er. Then it was that books began to hap­pen to me, and I began to believe in noth­ing but books and the won­der­ful world in books–where if peo­ple suf­fered, they suf­fered in beau­ti­ful lan­guage, not in mono­syl­la­bles, as we did in Kansas.

For Simone, music gave her suf­fer­ing pur­pose, but not the music she played for audi­ences and on record. One of the sad­dest ironies of her career is that the woman dubbed “The High Priest­ess of Soul” had lit­tle inter­est in play­ing soul. She embarked on her pop­u­lar music career to fund her clas­si­cal edu­ca­tion. How­ev­er, the oppor­tu­ni­ties to play the way she want­ed to did not arise. “Nina closed her let­ter on a strange­ly down note,” writes Nadine Coho­das in Princess Noire: The Tumul­tuous Reign of Nina Simone. “Her melan­choly over­whelmed any excite­ment about play­ing for the first time in France and Bel­gium. ‘No plea­sure,’ she told Langston, ‘just work.’”

So much of Simone’s frus­tra­tion and burnout in the music indus­try came out of a deep sense of alien­ation from her work. The shy Eunice Way­mon had nev­er craved the spot­light, some­thing Hugh­es must have come to know about her in the years of their acquain­tance. In his first note of praise, how­ev­er, he gets one thing wrong. As she was always the first to point out, Simone did not do it “most­ly all by her­self.”

The sup­port of her moth­er, her teacher, and her small “down home” com­mu­ni­ty took her as far as it could. Her rela­tion­ships with Hans­ber­ry, Hugh­es, and oth­er artists/activists car­ried her the rest of the way. Until they were gone. But when Hugh­es died, Popo­va writes, “a dev­as­tat­ed Simone turned her cov­et­ed set at the New­port Jazz Fes­ti­val into a trib­ute and closed it with an exhor­ta­tion to the audi­ence: ‘Keep him with you always. He was a beau­ti­ful, a beau­ti­ful man, and he’s still with us, of course.’” See much more of their cor­re­spon­dence at the Bei­necke.

via the Bei­necke

Relat­ed Con­tent:    

Nina Simone’s Live Per­for­mances of Her Poignant Civ­il Rights Protest Songs

Nina Simone Song “Col­or Is a Beau­ti­ful Thing” Ani­mat­ed in a Gor­geous Video

Langston Hugh­es Reads Langston Hugh­es

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

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Free Courses to Maintain Mental & Physical Health During a Pandemic

As I write this, the smoke from the numer­ous for­est fires across Cal­i­for­nia are mak­ing the air qual­i­ty ter­ri­ble, so we are being told to stay inside. How­ev­er, the heat­wave is mak­ing it insuf­fer­able to *be* inside. And we also have to be wary of COVID-19 and wear a mask. You could say this is a slight­ly stress­ful sit­u­a­tion. And a lot of us are deal­ing with even more than that–job sta­bil­i­ty, rent, and on and on. Just typ­ing this made me anx­ious!

Dur­ing this time we should try not to neglect our men­tal health. For­tu­nate­ly Cours­era offers free online cours­es about Men­tal Health and Well-Being.

The Cours­era video above comes from a Face­book live event that fea­tures Yale University’s Lau­rie San­tos, who teach­es Coursera’s Sci­ence of Well-Being course. This 30 minute Q&A dives right in to our cur­rent sit­u­a­tion, with San­tos out­lin­ing a pro­to­col for men­tal health that should be as much a part of your reg­i­men as wear­ing a mask and wash­ing your hands with soap (while singing Hap­py Birth­day to your­self, don’t for­get.)

Here’s a top ten of Cours­er­a’s most pop­u­lar health & well-being cours­es to check out:

  1. Mind Con­trol: Man­ag­ing Your Men­tal Health Dur­ing COVID-19 from Uni­ver­si­ty of Toron­to
  2. The Sci­ence of Well-Being from Yale Uni­ver­si­ty
  3. Find­ing Pur­pose and Mean­ing In Life: Liv­ing for What Mat­ters Most from Uni­ver­si­ty of Michi­gan
  4. Stan­ford Intro­duc­tion to Food and Health from Stan­ford Uni­ver­si­ty
  5. A Life of Hap­pi­ness and Ful­fill­ment from Indi­an School of Busi­ness
  6. Pos­i­tive Psy­chi­a­try and Men­tal Health from The Uni­ver­si­ty of Syd­ney
  7. Hack­ing Exer­cise For Health. The sur­pris­ing new sci­ence of fit­ness. from McMas­ter Uni­ver­si­ty
  8. Intro­duc­tion to Self-Deter­mi­na­tion The­o­ry: An approach to moti­va­tion, devel­op­ment and well­ness from Uni­ver­si­ty of Rochester
  9. Bio­hack­ing Your Brain’s Health from Emory Uni­ver­si­ty
  10. Man­ag­ing Your Health: The Role of Phys­i­cal Ther­a­py and Exer­cise from Uni­ver­si­ty of Toron­to

San­tos answers ques­tions from view­ers, cov­er­ing top­ics like avoid­ing ten­sion and argu­ments with our loved ones, stay­ing informed on the world with­out cre­at­ing more anx­i­ety, how can frontline/healthcare work­ers com­bat anx­i­ety, how to keep your­self pos­i­tive when liv­ing alone with­out fam­i­ly or friends, how to keep pro­duc­tive and healthy at work with the threat of lay­offs, how to look for a new job after being laid off because of COVID, how to help your child who is miss­ing their school friends, how do we cre­ate good expe­ri­ences to cre­ate good mem­o­ries, what we can do about sleep prob­lems, how to care for fam­i­ly mem­bers with COVID while also work­ing a job, and how to show ran­dom acts of kind­ness dur­ing this time (which is what San­tos cov­ers often in her Hap­pi­ness Lab pod­cast).

Over­all, focus on self-com­pas­sion, San­tos says, which has to be the start­ing point for all of this. When you enroll in these cours­es, Cours­era gives you two options. You can enroll as a paid stu­dent and get a cer­tifi­cate at the end. Or choose to “audit” the course (as shown here) and the course is free. Just like in col­lege! All the learn­ing, none of the blue book essays!

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Free Online Psy­chol­o­gy & Neu­ro­science Cours­es

Cours­era Makes Cours­es & Cer­tifi­cates Free Dur­ing Coro­n­avirus Quar­an­tine: Take Cours­es in Psy­chol­o­gy, Music, Well­ness, Pro­fes­sion­al Devel­op­ment & More Online

1,500 Free Online Cours­es from Top Uni­ver­si­ties

Free Cours­es on the Coro­n­avirus: What You Need to Know About the Emerg­ing Pan­dem­ic

Ted Mills is a free­lance writer on the arts who cur­rent­ly hosts the Notes from the Shed pod­cast and is the pro­duc­er of KCR­W’s Curi­ous Coast. You can also fol­low him on Twit­ter at @tedmills, and/or watch his films here.

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Classic Punk Rock Sketches from Saturday Night Live, Courtesy of Fred Armisen

Come­di­an Fred Armisen is best known for his years on Sat­ur­day Night Live, his eight sea­sons of sur­re­al sketch com­e­dy (with Car­rie Brown­stein) on Port­landia, and his unnerv­ing com­mand of region­al accents and impres­sions. True fans also know that for much of his career he’s also been a musi­cian, pri­mar­i­ly a drum­mer, since col­lege. Start­ing in high school, he’s been in var­i­ous bands, includ­ing Trench­mouth, the Blue Man Group, and some­times sit­ting in with Seth Mey­ers’ house band.

So the above skit from SNL is fun because Armisen gets to indulge his love of punk music. It’s a basic set-up, a 40-some­thing groom and his best buds “get­ting the band back togeth­er” to play one more song at a wed­ding. But here the band used to be a polit­i­cal punk band along the lines of Fear, The Dead Kennedys, and Sui­ci­dal Ten­den­cies, and the anti-Rea­gan lyrics (you too, Alexan­der Haig, you fas­cist!) have been pre­served in amber.

Like most SNL sketch­es it unfolds kind of how you expect (and just kinda…ends), but man, this must have been fun to shoot. And yes, that’s the Foo Fighters/Nirvana’s Dave Grohl on drums.

If that skit was a trib­ute to Amer­i­can punk, then this oth­er one is a nod to the Sex Pis­tols and the steady right­ward drift of John Lydon. Armisen plays lead singer Ian Rub­bish (you know, of Ian Rub­bish and the Bizarros) whose lyrics decry and attack everything…except for Mar­garet Thatch­er. The Queen? She’s use­less (and oth­er words we can’t write on Open Cul­ture), but Mag­gie? Ian has a soft spot.

This 2013 skit came short­ly after Thatch­er died and Amer­i­cans were treat­ed to videos of some Britons (not all, but *a lot*) cel­e­brat­ing her death much as you would the death of Hitler or Mus­soli­ni. Good­bye, good rid­dance, and let me know where she’s locat­ed so we can pee on her grave. That sor­ta thing. And if that’s where you’re at, you might find the turn this sketch takes a bit too nice. But kudos to ex-Pis­tol Steve Jones for turn­ing up and doing the Rut­les-like thing. There’s even a nice par­o­dy of the infa­mous Bill Grundy inter­view.

(Bonus info: Ian Rub­bish and the Bizarros played some actu­al shows.)

Armisen had anoth­er crack, by the way, at the reunion joke. In Sea­son 8 of Port­landia, the “Band Reunion” skit brought togeth­er Hen­ry Rollins (Black Flag), Krist Novosel­ic (Nir­vana), and Bren­dan Canty (Fugazi) to bring back Armisen’s character’s band “Riot Spray” and record one more time. (Brown­stein only fig­ures a bit in the skit, but her reac­tion is price­less). The humor is just a lit­tle bit more mel­low, a bit more empa­thet­ic, and hurts just that lit­tle bit more.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Sex Pis­tols Make a Scan­dalous Appear­ance on the Bill Grundy Show & Intro­duce Punk Rock to the Star­tled Mass­es (1976)

The Sex Pis­tols’ 1976 Man­ches­ter “Gig That Changed the World,” and the Day the Punk Era Began

The Sex Pis­tols Play in Dal­las’ Long­horn Ball­room; Next Show Is Mer­le Hag­gard (1978)

Ian Rub­bish (aka Fred Armisen) Inter­views the Clash in Spinal Tap-Inspired Mock­u­men­tary
Nev­er Mind the Bol­locks, Here’s … John Lydon in a But­ter Com­mer­cial?

Ted Mills is a free­lance writer on the arts who cur­rent­ly hosts the Notes from the Shed pod­cast and is the pro­duc­er of KCR­W’s Curi­ous Coast. You can also fol­low him on Twit­ter at @tedmills, and/or watch his films here.

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Winston Churchill Praises the Virtue of “Brevity” in Memos to His Staff: Concise Writing Leads to Clearer Thinking

George Orwell and Win­ston Churchill didn’t agree on much. For exam­ple, while Orwell wrote with deep sym­pa­thy about coal min­ers in The Road to Wigan Pier, Churchill, as home sec­re­tary, bru­tal­ly crushed a miner’s strike in Wales. Orwell’s ear­ly years as “an appa­ratchik in the last days of the empire… left him with a hatred of author­i­ty and impe­ri­al­ism,” writes Richard Eil­ers. Churchill was a com­mit­ted impe­ri­al­ist all his life, instru­men­tal in pro­long­ing a famine in British India that killed “at least three mil­lion peo­ple.”

Impor­tant­ly for history’s sake, they agreed on the need to con­front, rather than appease, the Nazis, against both the British left and right of the 1930s. “At a time not unlike today,” says jour­nal­ist Tom Ricks, “when peo­ple were won­der­ing whether democ­ra­cy was sus­tain­able, when a lot of peo­ple thought you need­ed author­i­tar­i­an rule, either from the right or the left, Orwell and Churchill, from their very dif­fer­ent per­spec­tives, come togeth­er on a key point. We don’t have to have author­i­tar­i­an gov­ern­ment.”

Maybe some­what less important—but stren­u­ous­ly agreed upon nonethe­less by these two figures—was the need for clear, con­cise prose that avoids obfus­ca­tion. In Pol­i­tics and the Eng­lish Lan­guage—an essay rou­tine­ly taught in col­lege com­po­si­tion classes—Orwell describes polit­i­cal­ly mis­lead­ing writ­ing as over­stuffed with “pre­ten­tious dic­tion” and “mean­ing­less words.” These are, he writes, signs of a “deca­dent… civ­i­liza­tion.” Churchill has had at least as much influ­ence as Orwell on a cer­tain kind of polit­i­cal writ­ing, though not the kind most of us read often.

In 1940, Churchill issued a memo to his staff titled “Brevi­ty.” He did not express con­cerns about creep­ing fas­cism in bureau­crat­ic com­mu­niques, but decried the prob­lem of wast­ed time, “while ener­gy has to be spent in look­ing for the essen­tial points.” He ends up, how­ev­er, say­ing some of the same things as Orwell, in few­er words.

I ask my col­leagues and their staffs to see to it that their Reports are short­er.

  1. The aim should be Reports which set out the main points in a series of short, crisp para­graphs.
  2. If a Report relies on detailed analy­sis of some com­pli­cat­ed fac­tors, or on sta­tis­tics, these should be set out in an Appen­dix.
  3. Often the occa­sion is best met by sub­mit­ting not a full-dress Report, but an Aide-mem­oire con­sist­ing of head­ings only, which can be expand­ed oral­ly if need­ed.
  4. Let us have an end of such phras­es as these: “It is also of impor­tance to bear in mind the fol­low­ing con­sid­er­a­tions…,” or “Con­sid­er­a­tion should be giv­en to the pos­si­bil­i­ty of car­ry­ing into effect….” Most of these wool­ly phras­es are mere padding, which can be left out alto­geth­er, or replaced by a sin­gle word. Let us not shrink from using the short expres­sive phrase, even if it is con­ver­sa­tion­al.

Reports drawn up on the lines I pro­pose may at first seem rough as com­pared with the flat sur­face of offi­cialese jar­gon. But the sav­ing in time will be great, while the dis­ci­pline of set­ting out the real points con­cise­ly will prove an aid to clear­er think­ing.

The mes­sage “cas­cad­ed through the civ­il ser­vice,” writes Lau­ra Cowdry at the UK Nation­al Archives. A 1940 arti­cle in the Times picked up the sto­ry. But the prob­lem per­sist­ed, as it does today and maybe will till the end of time (or until machines start to do all our writ­ing for us). Frus­trat­ed, Churchill issued anoth­er admo­ni­tion, short­er even than the first, in 1951.

Offi­cial papers are too long and too dif­fuse. In 1940 I called for brevi­ty. Evi­dent­ly I must do so again. I ask my col­leagues to read what I wrote then… and to make my wish­es known to their staffs.

These mem­os, Cowdry notes, “may shed some light onto gov­ern­ment com­mu­ni­ca­tions work of the past,” and on the Churchillian style that may have tak­en hold for decades in gov­ern­ment doc­u­ments, as well as—of course—far beyond them. His emphat­ic state­ments also artic­u­late “key ele­ments of good com­mu­ni­ca­tion that would res­onate with the think­ing of any mod­ern com­mu­ni­ca­tor,” whether Orwell, Kurt Von­negut, or Cor­mac McCarthy, who has become a sought-after sci­en­tif­ic edi­tor for his strict min­i­mal­ism.

Churchill did not seem over­ly con­cerned with wordi­ness as a polit­i­cal prob­lem. Orwell did not approach the prob­lem philo­soph­i­cal­ly. That task fell to the Log­i­cal Pos­i­tivists of the ear­ly 20th cen­tu­ry. In his attempt to explain the wordi­ness of both under­grad­u­ates and world-renowned thinkers, “neo-Pos­i­tivist” philoso­pher David Stove goes so far as to ascribe over­writ­ing to “defects of char­ac­ter… such things as an inabil­i­ty to shut up; deter­mi­na­tion to be thought deep; hunger for pow­er; fear, espe­cial­ly the fear of an indif­fer­ent uni­verse….”

Some­thing to con­sid­er, maybe, when you’re look­ing at your next draft email, Face­book com­ment, or Slack mes­sage, and won­der­ing whether it actu­al­ly needs to be an essay….

via Bob Rae

Relat­ed Com­ment:

George Orwell’s Six Rules for Writ­ing Clear and Tight Prose

Nov­el­ist Cor­mac McCarthy Gives Writ­ing Advice to Sci­en­tists … and Any­one Who Wants to Write Clear, Com­pelling Prose

Kurt Von­negut Explains “How to Write With Style”

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

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How Scholars Finally Deciphered Linear B, the Oldest Preserved Form of Ancient Greek Writing

In the ear­ly 1900s, British archae­ol­o­gist Sir Arthur Evans unearthed almost 3,000 tablets on the island of Crete, inscribed with a lan­guage he had nev­er seen before. The dis­cov­ery began a decades-long race to read the lan­guage of Europe’s old­est civ­i­liza­tion. And the final deci­pher­ing of the script, which Evans called Lin­ear B, end­ed up over­turn­ing an accept­ed his­to­ry of ancient Greek ori­gins as we learn in the TED-Ed video above script­ed by clas­sics pro­fes­sor Susan Lupack.

The tablets, found among the ruins of the ancient city of Knos­sos, belonged to a peo­ple who thrived 3,000–4,000 years ago, and whom Evans named the Minoans after the myth­i­cal king Minos, keep­er of the Mino­taur. Evans spent a good part of thir­ty years try­ing to deci­pher Lin­ear B with no suc­cess, keep­ing most of the tablets locked away. He did, how­ev­er, find two keys that allowed future researchers to trans­late the ancient lan­guage.

One of those schol­ars, Alice Kober, became inter­est­ed in the Minoan script while an under­grad­u­ate at Hunter Col­lege in New York. By the time she earned her doc­tor­ate, she had “devot­ed her­self to the deci­pher­ment of the pho­net­ic signs,” notes Rut­gers Uni­ver­si­ty. “To do so, she stud­ied archae­ol­o­gy in New Mex­i­co and at the ASCSA, acquaint­ing her­self with the scripts of as many ancient lan­guages and cul­tures as she could.”

Schol­ars around the world spec­u­lat­ed about Lin­ear B. “Was it the lost lan­guage of the Etr­uscans?” they asked. “Or an ear­ly form of Basque?” Kober her­self spent two decades try­ing to decode the script. Like Evans, she died before she could com­plete her work, but she came clos­er than any­one had before. Mean­while, archi­tect Michael Ven­tris became obsessed with Lin­ear B, even work­ing on it while he served in World War II.

Build­ing on Kober’s meth­ods and new tablets exca­vat­ed at a Greek site, Pylos, he was able to iso­late the names of ancient places. From these geo­graph­i­cal ref­er­ences, Ven­tris “unrav­eled Lin­ear B, with each word reveal­ing more clear­ly” that the lan­guage it rep­re­sent­ed was not Minoan, but Greek. It is, in fact, “the old­est pre­served form of writ­ten Greek that we know of,” the Ancient His­to­ry Ency­clo­pe­dia explains, like­ly “devised in Knoss­es (Crete), some­where around 1450 BCE when the Myce­naeans took con­trol of Knoss­es, and spread from here to Main­land Greece.”

It had pre­vi­ous­ly been assumed that the oppo­site occurred, that the Minoans had invad­ed Greece. This was Evans sup­po­si­tion, but Ven­tris’ dis­cov­ery showed, “whether by peace­ful annex­a­tion or armed inva­sion… the Minoan cul­ture was replaced, both in Crete and in main­land Greece, by the Myce­nean culture”—Greeks from the main­land who adopt­ed the Minoan script to write in Greek.

This means that the ancient Minoan lan­guage Evans hoped to find still remains a mys­tery, locked away in the labyrinth of anoth­er ancient script, called Lin­ear A. When this pri­mal lin­guis­tic ances­tor is final­ly deci­phered, it will prob­a­bly not be through decades of painstak­ing efforts by ded­i­cat­ed schol­ars, but through the sin­gu­lar break­through of a machine lan­guage.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

What Did Etr­uscan Sound Like? An Ani­mat­ed Video Pro­nounces the Ancient Lan­guage That We Still Don’t Ful­ly Under­stand

Hear What the Lan­guage Spo­ken by Our Ances­tors 6,000 Years Ago Might Have Sound­ed Like: A Recon­struc­tion of the Pro­to-Indo-Euro­pean Lan­guage

Learn Latin, Old Eng­lish, San­skrit, Clas­si­cal Greek & Oth­er Ancient Lan­guages in 10 Lessons

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

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New Digital Archive Opens Access to Thousands of Digitized African American Funeral Programs (1886–2019)

Funer­al rites, buri­als, and oth­er rit­u­als are held near-uni­ver­sal­ly sacred, not only due to reli­gious and cul­tur­al beliefs about death: We pre­serve our con­nec­tion to our ances­tors through the records of their births and deaths. For many Black Amer­i­cans in the U.S. south, grief and loss have been com­pound­ed by cen­turies of vio­lence and tragedy, but funer­als have still tend­ed to be “cel­e­bra­tions of life” rather than mourn­ful events, says Derek Mosley, archivist at the Auburn Avenue Research Library on African Amer­i­can Cul­ture and His­to­ry.” African Amer­i­can “funer­al pro­grams tend to reflect that,” and there­fore offer a wealth of infor­ma­tion for his­to­ri­ans and geneal­o­gists as well as fam­i­ly mem­bers.

Mosley is a con­trib­u­tor to a new dig­i­tal archive that “cur­rent­ly boasts more than 11,500 dig­i­tized pages and is expect­ed to grow as more pro­grams are con­tributed.” These his­tor­i­cal doc­u­ments date from between 1886 to 2019, though “most of the pro­grams are from ser­vices dur­ing the late twen­ti­eth and ear­ly twen­ty-first cen­turies,” notes the Dig­i­tal Library of Geor­gia, who hous­es the col­lec­tion. “A major­i­ty of the pro­grams are from church­es in the Atlanta, Geor­gia area, with a few pro­grams from oth­er states such as South Car­oli­na, Ten­nessee, Flori­da, Michi­gan, New Jer­sey, and New York, among oth­ers.”

The archive offers an incred­i­ble resource for peo­ple look­ing for infor­ma­tion about rel­a­tives. For researchers “these doc­u­ments also rep­re­sent a gold mine of archival infor­ma­tion,” Nora McGreevy writes at Smith­son­ian, includ­ing “birth and death dates, pho­tos, lists of rel­a­tives, nick­names, maid­en names, res­i­dences, church names, and oth­er clues that can help reveal the sto­ries of the deceased.”

In many cas­es, those sto­ries were lost when Jim Crow, pover­ty, and rede­vel­op­ment dis­placed fam­i­lies and erased bur­ial sites. The col­lec­tion, says Mosley, offers “a pub­lic space for lega­cy.”

It is a way for local his­to­ri­ans to recov­er impor­tant com­mu­ni­ty fig­ures. One pro­gram, for Dr. J.W.E. Lin­der, “who died in 1939,” Atlas Obscu­ra’s Matthew Taub writes, “and whose memo­r­i­al ser­vice was held in 1940” informs us that the deceased was the son of “Con­gress­man George W. Lin­der, of the Geor­gia House of Rep­re­sen­ta­tives dur­ing the Recon­struc­tion Peri­od.” In the pro­gram for Judge Austin Thomas Walden, who died in 1965, we learn that he served as the first munic­i­pal judge in Geor­gia since Recon­struc­tion. His bene­dic­tion was deliv­ered by the Rev­erend Mar­tin Luther King Sr. and he received trib­utes from the May­or of Atlanta, the Pres­i­dent of More­house Col­lege, and the office of Pres­i­dent John­son.

Such pil­lars of the com­mu­ni­ty can be found among a host of pro­grams memo­ri­al­iz­ing ordi­nary, every­day peo­ple. The descrip­tions in the funer­al lit­er­a­ture open fas­ci­nat­ing win­dows onto their lives and their extend­ed fam­i­ly con­nec­tions. Mrs. Julia Burton’s pro­gram from 1960, for exam­ple, tells us she was born on the plan­ta­tion where her par­ents were like­ly enslaved. Her obit­u­ary not only describes her many clubs and her char­ac­ter as “a well-informed per­son in many areas,” but also lists the names of her hus­band and son, three grand­daugh­ters, two grand­sons, two sis­ters, and two brothers—invaluable infor­ma­tion for peo­ple search­ing for rel­a­tives.

“The chal­lenge for African Amer­i­can geneal­o­gy and fam­i­ly research con­tin­ues to be the lack of free access to his­tor­i­cal infor­ma­tion that can enable us to the tell the sto­ries of those who have come before us,” remarks Tam­my Ozi­er, pres­i­dent of the Atlanta Chap­ter of the Afro-Amer­i­can His­tor­i­cal and Genealog­i­cal Soci­ety. “This mon­u­men­tal col­lec­tion helps to close the gap.” As it grows, it will like­ly come to rep­re­sent greater geo­graph­i­cal areas around the coun­try. For now, the rough­ly 3300 dig­i­tized funer­al pro­grams, some a sin­gle page, some elab­o­rate, full-col­or pro­duc­tions, focus on an area to which thou­sands of fam­i­lies around the coun­try can trace their lin­eage, and to which many may find their way back through pub­lic archives like this one.

via Atlas Obscu­ra

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Mas­sive New Data­base Will Final­ly Allow Us to Iden­ti­fy Enslaved Peo­ples and Their Descen­dants in the Amer­i­c­as

The Names of 1.8 Mil­lion Eman­ci­pat­ed Slaves Are Now Search­able in the World’s Largest Genealog­i­cal Data­base, Help­ing African Amer­i­cans Find Lost Ances­tors

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

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

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W.E.B. Du Bois Devastates Apologists for Confederate Monuments and Robert E. Lee (1931)

Who won the U.S. Civ­il War? “The north, of course,” you say… but ah… if you did not know the answer, you would have rea­son to be con­fused. Who los­es a war and puts up stat­ues of its heroes on the vic­tor’s land? In the south, say, in North­ern Vir­ginia, you’ll find pub­lic shrines to Stonewall Jack­son, pub­lic high­ways named for Jef­fer­son Davis, and pub­lic schools named after Robert E. Lee and J.E.B. Stew­art. These are not his­tor­i­cal mon­u­ments, i.e. pre­served bat­tle­fields, grave­yards, or his­toric homes. They were erect­ed decades after the war. You’ll find them in Cal­i­for­nia, Ore­gon, and Wash­ing­ton state, which did not exist at the time.

Next ques­tion: who did the Con­fed­er­a­cy fight in the Civ­il War? The Union, of course. But the lead­ers of the region also warred with anoth­er ene­my, as they had for over two hun­dred years: mil­lions of enslaved peo­ple kept in bru­tal sub­jec­tion. In many respects, they won this war, though they lost the priv­i­leges of legal slav­ery. Once Andrew John­son came to pow­er, the south rein­sti­tut­ed con­di­tions that were often more or less the same for Black peo­ple as they had been before the war. Grant strug­gled to reverse the tide, but Recon­struc­tion ulti­mate­ly failed.

This is the vic­to­ry the south com­mem­o­rat­ed when orga­ni­za­tions like the Unit­ed Daugh­ters of the Con­fed­er­a­cy and Sons of Con­fed­er­ate Vet­er­ans put up mon­u­ments to south­ern gen­er­als all over the coun­try. It is the vic­to­ry invoked by the Bat­tle Flag of the Army of North­ern Vir­ginia (or the “Con­fed­er­ate Flag”). A defi­ance of mul­ti-racial democ­ra­cy and a gov­ern­ment that serves the needs of all its cit­i­zens; a men­ac­ing pro­mo­tion of white suprema­cist mythol­o­gy, main­tained with pub­lic funds on pub­lic lands. Those sym­bols include:

  • 780 mon­u­ments, more than 300 of which are in Geor­gia, Vir­ginia or North Car­oli­na;
  • 103 pub­lic K‑12 schools and three col­leges named for Robert E. Lee, Jef­fer­son Davis or oth­er Con­fed­er­ate icons;
  • 80 coun­ties and cities named for Con­fed­er­ates;
  • 9 observed state hol­i­days in five states; and
  • 10 U.S. mil­i­tary bases. 

But, no, one might say, these are obser­vances for the south­ern dead, who were, after all, Amer­i­cans too. This is what we’ve heard, over and over. It was a hoary old sto­ry when W.E.B. Du Bois heard it in the ear­ly decades of the twen­ti­eth cen­tu­ry. “Lost Cause” ide­ol­o­gy had done its work, flood­ing the cul­ture with sym­pa­thet­ic por­tray­als of the Con­fed­er­a­cy, a wave of pro­pa­gan­da that reached its apex in the spec­ta­cle of 1915’s Birth of a Nation (first titled The Clans­man), respon­si­ble for res­ur­rect­ing the Ku Klux Klan.

The sto­ry went some­thing like this: “No nobler young men ever lived; no braver sol­diers ever answered the bugle call nor marched under a bat­tle flag,” pro­claimed south­ern indus­tri­al­ist Julian Carr at the 1913 ded­i­ca­tion of Con­fed­er­ate stat­ue Silent Sam, which stood on the cam­pus of the Uni­ver­si­ty of North Car­oli­na in Chapel Hill until activists tore it down recent­ly. “They fought, not for con­quest, not for coer­cion, but from a high and holy sense of duty. They were like the Knights of the Holy Grail.”

Carr goes on like this at length, recit­ing poet­ry and mak­ing con­stant ref­er­ences to Greek heroes and gods. His pur­pose, he says, is to memo­ri­al­ize “the Sacred Cause.” But he nev­er says what that cause is, though he has many exalt­ed words for “the noble women of my dear South­land, who are to-day as thor­ough­ly con­vinced of the jus­tice of that cause.” The speech is boil­er­plate Con­fed­er­ate apol­o­gism: an almost hys­ter­i­cal­ly bom­bas­tic defense of the south that nev­er once men­tions slav­ery.

Yet in an odd moment, Carr breaks off—during a rant about “what the Con­fed­er­ate sol­dier meant to the wel­fare of the Anglo Sax­on race”—to make a “rather per­son­al… allu­sion” for seem­ing­ly no rea­son:

One hun­dred yards from where we stand, less than nine­ty days per­haps after my return from Appo­mat­tox, I horse-whipped a negro wench until her skirts hung in shreds, because upon the streets of this qui­et vil­lage she had pub­licly insult­ed and maligned a South­ern lady, and then rushed for pro­tec­tion to these Uni­ver­si­ty build­ings where was sta­tioned a gar­ri­son of 100 Fed­er­al sol­diers. I per­formed the pleas­ing duty in the imme­di­ate pres­ence of the entire gar­ri­son, and for thir­ty nights after­wards slept with a dou­ble-bar­rel shot gun under my head.

What does it say about his audi­ence that Carr thinks this admis­sion reflects well on him? Du Bois under­stood it. He had diag­nosed the fear and vio­lent hatred men like Carr embod­ied and seen their cow­ardice and des­per­ate over­com­pen­sa­tion. “They preach and strut and shout and threat­en,” he wrote in The Souls of White Folk, “crouch­ing as they clutch at rags of facts and fan­cies to hide their naked­ness, they go twist­ing, fly­ing by my tired eyes and I see them ever stripped—ugly, human.”

Du Bois knew what Con­fed­er­ate mon­u­ments were meant to rep­re­sent. In 1931, he cut to the heart of the mat­ter in brief remarks pub­lished in The Cri­sis (top). “Du Bois push­es right back against the myth of the Lost Cause,” writes his­to­ri­an Kevin M. Levin. “He refus­es to draw a dis­tinc­tion between the Con­fed­er­ate gov­ern­ment and men in the ranks,” as rep­re­sent­ed by stat­ues like Silent Sam. “Du Bois clear­ly under­stood that as long as white south­ern­ers were able to mythol­o­gize the war through their mon­u­ments, African Amer­i­cans would remain sec­ond class cit­i­zens.”

He did not refer to mon­u­ments put up in Con­fed­er­ate ceme­ter­ies, as many had been imme­di­ate­ly after the war, but to the hun­dreds of stat­ues and oth­er memo­ri­als erect­ed in promi­nent places of gov­ern­ment begin­ning around 1900. “All of these mon­u­ments were there to teach val­ues to peo­ple,” says Mark Elliott, pro­fes­sor of his­to­ry at Uni­ver­si­ty of North Car­oli­na, Greens­boro. “That’s why they put them in the city squares. That’s why they put them in front of state build­ings.” It’s why there are Con­fed­er­ate stat­ues in the U.S. Cap­i­tal, gifts to the nation from south­ern states, glad­ly accept­ed.

Three years ear­li­er, Du Bois had writ­ten many choice words about attempts to deify Con­fed­er­ate lead­ers like Robert E. Lee (who him­self opposed mon­u­ments). He also coun­tered the argu­ment that the war was about “States Rights” in one inci­sive sen­tence: “If nation­al­ism had been a stronger defense of the slave sys­tem than par­tic­u­lar­ism, the South would have been as nation­al­ist in 1861 as it had been in 1812.” None of the high-flown rhetoric about “the cause” of gov­ern­ing prin­ci­ples had any­thing to do with it, Du Bois argues. “Peo­ple do not go to war for abstract the­o­ries of gov­ern­ment. They fight for prop­er­ty and priv­i­lege.”

One stat­ue in North Car­oli­na, Du Bois notes wry­ly in his Cri­sis remarks, goes so far as to claim that Con­fed­er­ate sol­diers “Died Fight­ing for Lib­er­ty!” This would not strike Lost Cause defend­ers like Carr as iron­ic. They too fought for lib­er­ty, of a kind—the free­dom to pun­ish, kill, imprison, exploit, dis­en­fran­chise, and oth­er­wise ter­ror­ize and impov­er­ish Black Amer­i­cans at will.

via Nathan Robin­son

Relat­ed Con­tent:

W.E.B. Du Bois Cre­ates Rev­o­lu­tion­ary, Artis­tic Data Visu­al­iza­tions Show­ing the Eco­nom­ic Plight of African-Amer­i­cans (1900)

Pho­tos of 19th-Cen­tu­ry Black Women Activists Dig­i­tized and Put Online by The Library of Con­gress

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

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Dr. Fauci Reads an Undergrad’s Entire Thesis, Then Follows Up with an Encouraging Letter

Pho­to via the Nation­al Insti­tute of Aller­gy and Infec­tious Dis­eases 

What are some qual­i­ties to look for in a leader?

  • A thirst for knowl­edge
  • A sense of duty
  • The scru­ples to give cred­it where cred­it is due
  • A calm, clear com­mu­ni­ca­tion style
  • Humil­i­ty

Dr. Antho­ny Fau­ci brings these qual­i­ties to bear as Direc­tor of the Nation­al Insti­tute of Aller­gy and Infec­tious Dis­eases at the Nation­al Insti­tute of Health.

They’re also on dis­play in his mes­sage to then-under­grad Luke Mes­sac, now an emer­gency med­i­cine res­i­dent at Brown Uni­ver­si­ty, whose research focus­es on the his­to­ries of health pol­i­cy in south­ern Africa and the US, and who recent­ly tweet­ed:

13 years ago, I emailed Dr. Fau­ci out of the blue to ask if I might inter­view him for my under­grad the­sis. He invit­ed me to his office, where he answered all my ques­tions. When I sent him the the­sis, HE READ THE WHOLE THING (see his over­ly effu­sive review below). Who does that?!

Here’s what Fau­ci had to say to the young sci­en­tist:

It cer­tain­ly reads like the work of a class act.

In addi­tion to serv­ing as one of the COVID-19 pandemic’s most rec­og­niz­able faces, Dr. Fau­ci has acquired anoth­er duty—that of scape­goat for Don­ald Trump, the 6th pres­i­dent he has answered to in his long career.

He seems to be tak­ing the administration’s pot­shots with a char­ac­ter­is­ti­cal­ly cool head, though com­pared to the furi­ous crit­i­cisms AIDS activists direct­ed his way in the 80s and 90s, he’s unlike­ly to find much of edu­ca­tion­al val­ue in them.

Last March, The Body Pro, a newslet­ter for work­ers on the front lines of HIV edu­ca­tion, pre­ven­tion, care, and ser­vices quot­ed ACT UP NY’s Jim Eigo on the doctor’s response to a let­ter demand­ing par­al­lel track­ing, a pol­i­cy revi­sion that would put poten­tial­ly life-sav­ing drugs in the hands of those who test­ed pos­i­tive far ear­li­er than the exist­ing clin­i­cal tri­al require­ments’ sched­ule would have allowed:

Lo and behold, he read the let­ter and liked it, and the fol­low­ing year he start­ed pro­mot­ing the idea of a par­al­lel track for AIDS drugs to the FDA. Had he not helped us push that through, we couldn’t have got­ten a lot of the cousin drugs to AZT, such as ddC and ddI, approved so fast. They were prob­lem­at­ic drugs, but with­out them, we couldn’t have kept so many peo­ple alive. 

Fau­ci, despite being straight and Catholic, was not only not homo­pho­bic, which much of med­ical prac­tice still was in the late 1980s, he also wouldn’t tol­er­ate homo­pho­bia among his col­leagues. He knew there was no place for that in a pub­lic-health cri­sis.

Speak­ing of cor­re­spon­dence, Dr Mes­sac seems to have tak­en the “per­pet­u­al stu­dent” con­cept Dr. Fau­ci impressed upon him back in 2007 to heart, as evi­denced by a recent tweet, regard­ing a les­son gleaned from Arnold Schwarzeneg­ger in Pump­ing Iron, a 1977 doc­u­men­tary about body­builders:

Schwarzeneg­ger explained how he would fig­ure out what to work out every day by look­ing in a mir­ror and find­ing his weak­est mus­cles. It’s pret­ty good advice for study­ing dur­ing res­i­den­cy. Every shift reveals a weak­ness, and greats nev­er stop look­ing for their own.

In writ­ing to Mes­sac, Dr. Fau­ci allud­ed to his com­mence­ment speech­es, so we thought it appro­pri­ate to leave you with one of his most recent ones, a vir­tu­al address to the grad­u­at­ing class of his alma mater, Col­lege of the Holy Cross:

“Now is the time, if ever there was one” he tells the Class of 2020, “to care self­less­ly about one anoth­er… Stay safe, and I look for­ward to the good work you will con­tribute in the years ahead.”

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

Real Women Talk About Their Careers in Sci­ence

Richard Feynman’s Tech­nique for Learn­ing Some­thing New: An Ani­mat­ed Intro­duc­tion

Nov­el­ist Cor­mac McCarthy Gives Writ­ing Advice to Sci­en­tists … and Any­one Who Wants to Write Clear, Com­pelling Prose

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

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How Cannonball Adderley Shared the Joy of Jazz

Jazz has always had big per­son­al­i­ties. In the mid-20th cen­tu­ry, an explo­sion of major play­ers became as well known for their per­son­al quirks as for their rev­o­lu­tion­ary tech­niques and com­po­si­tions. Monk’s endear­ing odd­ness, Miles Davis’ brood­ing bad tem­per, Charles Min­gus’ exu­ber­ant shouts and rages, Ornette Coleman’s cryp­tic phi­los­o­phiz­ing, Coltrane’s gen­tle mys­ti­cism…. These were not only the jazz world’s great­est play­ers; they were also some of the century’s most inter­est­ing peo­ple.

The same can be said for Julian Edwin “Can­non­ball” Adder­ley, sax­o­phon­ist and band­leader who was her­ald­ed as a new Char­lie Park­er on arrival in the New York scene from Ft. Laud­erdale, Flori­da, where he had worked as a pop­u­lar high school band direc­tor and local musi­cian before decid­ing to pur­sue grad­u­ate stud­ies. Music had oth­er plans for him. Instead of going back to school when he arrived in Man­hat­tan in 1955, he fell in with the right crowd and became an instant crit­i­cal sen­sa­tion.

Adder­ley end­ed up play­ing onstage and record­ing with greats like Davis, Coltrane, Art Blakey, Bill Evans, and his broth­er, Nat Adder­ley, who joined him to play in his Quin­tet, com­plet­ed the Can­non­ball Adder­ley Sex­tet in the six­ties with Yusef Lateef, and helped him make some of the best music of his career. Adder­ley joined Miles Davis’s band when Coltrane left and played on Kind of Blue and Mile­stones, leav­ing “a deep impres­sion on Davis and his sex­tet,” notes one biog­ra­phy.

Unlike some of his famous peers, Adder­ley had none of the traits of the dif­fi­cult or enig­mat­ic artiste. Where most jazz musi­cians remained silent and mys­te­ri­ous onstage, Adder­ley engaged bois­ter­ous­ly with his audi­ence, in mono­logues one can imag­ine him shout­ing gre­gar­i­ous­ly over a band room full of stu­dents warm­ing up. With his irre­press­ible charm, he estab­lished an “amus­ing and edu­ca­tion­al rap­port with his audi­ence, often-times explain­ing what he and his musi­cians were about to play” (hear him do so before launch­ing into his pop­u­lar 1966 soul jazz sin­gle “Mer­cy, Mer­cy, Mer­cy,” below.)

Adderley’s per­son­al­i­ty helped put jazz new­com­ers at ease, but he didn’t teach from the text­book, exper­i­ment­ing broad­ly with sev­er­al gen­res and incor­po­rat­ing elec­tron­ic ele­ments and African polyrhythms in the 60s and 70s, when he also became “a jazz spokesman. Whether it was tele­vi­sion, res­i­den­cies at sev­er­al col­leges, or film appear­ances.” Adder­ley helped pio­neer soul jazz, post-bop, and oth­er exper­i­men­tal sub­gen­res, many of which crossed over into the pop charts. “Two words best encap­su­late the music of alto sax­o­phon­ist Julian “Can­non­ball” Adder­ley,” writes Nick Mor­ri­son at NPR: “’joy’ and ‘soul.’”

The Poly­phon­ic video at the top focus­es on the role of joy in Adderley’s music, mak­ing the case that he “exem­pli­fies joy more than any­one else in jazz.” His vora­cious appetite for life—reflected in his high school nick­name “Can­ni­bal,” which mor­phed into “Cannonball”—propelled him into the “cen­ter of the jazz uni­verse.” It also led him to devour influ­ences oth­er jazz musi­cians avoid­ed. He had no pre­ten­sions to jazz as high art, though he was him­self a high artist, and he joy­ful­ly embraced pop music at a time when it was scorned by the jazz elite.

“Adderley’s great ambi­tion was to share the joy of jazz with the world, and he knew that no mat­ter how tech­ni­cal­ly impres­sive a piece of music was, peo­ple wouldn’t lis­ten to it if it wasn’t fun, so Can­non­ball made his music fun and acces­si­ble.” Records like The Can­non­ball Adder­ley Sex­tet in New York sound like “a par­ty,” writes CJ Hurtt at Vinyl Me, Please: “a par­ty with some far-out near­ly free jazz post-bop ele­ments to it” but no short­age of straight-ahead grooves. The album kicks off with Can­non­ball “telling the audi­ence that they are actu­al­ly hip and not mere­ly pre­tend­ing to be.” It’s tongue-in-cheek, of course; Adder­ley nev­er pre­tend­ed to be any­one but his own out­go­ing self. But his unre­lent­ing cheer­ful­ness, even when he played the blues, also made him one of the hippest cats around.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

How Jazz Helped Fuel the 1960s Civ­il Rights Move­ment

Miles Davis Icon­ic 1959 Album Kind of Blue Turns 60: Revis­it the Album That Changed Amer­i­can Music

Her­bie Hancock’s Joy­ous Sound­track for the Orig­i­nal Fat Albert TV Spe­cial (1969)

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

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