by Michelle R. Scott, Associate Professor of History, UMBC and Earl Brooks, Assistant Professor of English, UMBC

At a moment when there is a longstanding heated debate over how artists and pop culture figures should engage in social activism, the life and career of musical legend Edward Kennedy “Duke” Ellington offers a model of how to do it right.

Ellington was born on April 29, 1899 in Washington, D.C. His tight-knit black middle-class family nurtured his racial pride and shielded him from many of the difficulties of segregation in the nation’s capital. Washington was home to a sizable black middle class, despite prevalent racism. That included the racial riots of 1919’s Red Summer, three months of bloody violence directed at black communities in cities from San Francisco to Chicago and Washington D.C.

Ellington’s development from a D.C. piano prodigy to the world’s elegant and sophisticated “Duke” is well documented. Yet a fusion of art and social activism also marked his more than 56-year career.

Ellington’s battle for social justice was personal. Films like the award-winning “Green Book” only hint at the costs of segregation for black performing artists during the 1950s and 60s.

Duke’s experiences reveal the reality.

Cotton Club to Scottsboro Boys

Ellington first rose to fame at Harlem’s “whites only” Cotton Club in the 1920s. There, the only mingling of black and white happened on the piano keyboard itself, as black performers entered through back doors and could not interact with white customers.

Ellington quietly devoted his services to the NAACP and its racial equality activities in the 1930s. Whether it was demanding that black youth have equal entrance rights to segregated dance halls or holding benefit concerts for the Scottsboro Boys, nine black adolescents falsely imprisoned for rape in 1931, Ellington used his growing fame as a prominent band leader for a greater good.

In our literary and historical research on African American entertainment, Ellington’s ability to travel and perform across national boundaries stands out.

After success in Harlem’s night spots, Ellington composed, recorded and appeared in film shorts like 1935’s “Symphony in Black” as himself. He traveled the world with his orchestra, at first performing in the U.K. in the 1930s. Later, Ellington continued to perform on behalf of the U.S. State Department as a “jazz ambassador” in the 1960s and 70s. Audiences in such places as India, Syria, Turkey, Ethiopia and Zambia were given the opportunity to hear and dance to Ellington’s compositions.

However, not even international popularity ensured that hotels would host Ellington’s all-black ensemble during a tour in the U.K. in June 1933. Members scrambled to find boarding homes in London’s Bloomsbury neighborhood when mainstream hotels turned them away on account of their race.

Despite success, racism

Ellington’s 1932 “It Don’t Mean a Thing if It Ain’t Got That Swing” was the soundtrack for the nation’s swing era of the 1930s and 40s. The tune stayed on the Billboard charts for six weeks in 1932 and was inducted into the Grammy Hall of Fame in 2008.

But when Ellington traveled in the South, he still had to hire a private rail car to avoid crowded, poorly maintained “colored only” train seating, or hotels and restaurants that refused service to black Southerners.

Northern or western engagements in the 1930s and 1940s often proved no better. While there were no “white only” signs on the doors of these hotels or restaurants, establishments enforced segregation by telling black customers to enter through back doors or purchase their meals to go.

Bassist Milt Hinton recalled that Ellington and fellow band leader Count Basie often stayed at black-owned boarding houses rather than risk being thrown out or ignored.

White band managers attempted to protect the black bands they managed from these racist practices, but this still did not prevent Ellington from being denied service in a Salt Lake City hotel’s cafe in the 1940s.

Subtle style

Once the civil rights movement of the 1950s began to fight for racial equality through direct-action techniques like mass protests, boycotts and sit-ins, activists in the early 1950s criticized the older Ellington. His subtle activism style had focused on benefit concerts, and not “in the streets” protests.

But as the movement continued, Ellington included a non-segregation clause in his contracts and refused to play before segregated audiences by 1961. He maintained in an interview in the Baltimore Afro American newspaper that he had always been devoted to “the fight for first class citizenship.”

This was a devotion best seen in his music.

Ellington used his creative musical talents against racist beliefs that African Americans were inferior or unintelligent.

His diverse and wide-ranging catalog of music demanded the kind of serious attention and respect that had previously only been reserved for elite, white composers of classical music.

Songs such as “Black and Tan Fantasy” completely challenged what was then called “jungle music,” a negative term used to reference music inspired by the African diaspora. As a fusion of sacred and secular black culture, both the “Black and Tan Fantasy” composition and film combined the speaking traditions of black preachers with the humor and rhythms of black life.

Modern black variety shows such as “Wild ‘N Out” and “In Living Color” share a lineage with Ellington’s major stage production of 1941, “Jump for Joy.”

“Jump for Joy” combined comedy skits and music into a revue that featured African American stars of the mid-20th century, including actress, singer and dancer Dorothy Dandridge and poet Langston Hughes.

Ellington claimed that his production “would take Uncle Tom out of the theater and say things that would make the audience think.”

He used his music to showcase black excellence as a resistance tactic against the negative stereotypes of African Americans made popular in American blackface minstrelsy.

Ellington also used “Jump for Joy” to call out those who borrowed from black music without any credit or financial compensation to its creators.

Melody’s other purpose

One of Ellington’s most powerful works is the orchestral piece “Black, Brown and Beige.”

This work shows his ability to infuse the blues into classical music and his commitment to tell the history of black America through song.

From the spirituals developed through the trials of slavery to the fight for civil rights and the modern rhythms of big band swing music, Ellington sought to tell a story about black life that was both beautiful and complex.

For Ellington, melody became message.

* * * * *

Michelle R. Scott, Associate Professor of History, University of Maryland, Baltimore County and Earl Brooks, Assistant Professor of English, University of Maryland, Baltimore County

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Header image: Duke Ellington, Paramount Theater, New York, 1946. Library of Congress/William P. Gottlieb photographer

by Constantine Nomikos Vaporis, Professor of History, UMBC

For the first time in 217 years, a Japanese emperor will cede his place on the imperial throne.

On April 30, Japan’s ailing 85-year-old Emperor Akihito will abdicate and be replaced the following day by his 59-year-old son, Crown Prince Naruhito.

Naruhito and his wife, Crown Princess Masako, are a modern couple. Both have studied overseas – he at Oxford University, she in Russia, England and the United States. Born after World War II, Naruhito will be the first Japanese emperor not shaped by the upheaval that war brought to his country.

Many Japanese are hopeful that these younger royals can update Japan’s ancient “Chrysanthemum Throne.” But changing a 14-century-old monarchy to reflect the times will not be easy.

A democracy with an emperor

Japan has the oldest continuous monarchy in the world.

The current emperor, Akihito, is the 125th in a royal line of succession officially founded in the 7th century. According to Japanese legend, however, the Chrysanthemum Throne dates back 2,600 years – to the country’s founding in 660 B.C. by Emperor Jimmu, a descendant of the Shinto sun goddess, Amaterasu.

Despite their sacred status, Japanese emperors have traditionally reigned but not run the country. For most of its long history, military governments or oligarchs governed Japan in a day-to-day sense.

In 1947, two years after its surrender to Allied forces, Japan became a democracy, with several political parties, parliament and a prime minister. The monarchy also changed profoundly after World War II.

Emperor Hirohito – father of Japan’s current emperor, Akihito – renounced “the false conception that the emperor is divine” in 1946 under pressure from Allied forces. The largely American-written 1947 constitution that followed officially reduced the emperor to a figurehead.

Still, the monarchy continued. And Hirohito remained on the throne until his death at age 88 in 1989.

The people’s emperor

Hirohito’s son, Emperor Akihito has, by most accounts, been a hugely popular monarch – one who put his personal stamp on this institution.

As a young crown prince in U.S.-occupied Japan, Akihito studied the English language and western culture, and his American tutor sought to encourage independence in her young student. Akihito later broke with the Japanese royal tradition of arranged marriages by wedding a commoner, Michiko Shoda, whom he met playing tennis.

Akihito has brought the monarchy closer to the people of Japan in other ways over the last 30 years, too.

He spent more time outside the confines of his palace, interacting with ordinary Japanese, than his aloof father. He and the empress also made official visits to some 35 countries.

After the 2011 earthquake and tsunami that triggered Japan’s Fukushima nuclear crisis, Emperor Akihito made a historic television appearance, urging his people not to give up hope, and visited refugees at an evacuation center.

In a 2016 speech, Akihito indirectly signaled his intention to abdicate, saying that his advanced age and declining health made it difficult for him to carry out his duties.

Resigning on April 30 will be the last modernizing act of Akhito’s 30-year reign.

The crown prince says that as emperor he hopes to emulate his father’s personal touch – to “share the joys and sorrows of the people.”

Controversy over all-male succession

The abdication of a living emperor created a legal problem for Japan, where imperial law defines imperial succession only upon death.

The last Japanese monarch to step down, Emperor Kokaku, did so in 1817 for unknown reasons, and before Japan became a democracy. There is simply no modern precedent for Akihito’s decision.

Amending Japanese imperial law to accommodate abdication would have opened it up to other changes. Specifically, many Japanese legislators and a majority of Japanese people wanted to allow women to inherit the throne.

That would be a big symbolic boost for women in a country where female executives occupy less than 1% of management positions.

Conservative forces in legislature, however, blocked calls to change Japan’s male succession tradition. Rather than amend the imperial law, they simply passed a special law allowing Akihito to step down.

That means Aiko, the daughter of Japan’s soon-to-be emperor and empress cannot succeed her father. Next in line, instead, is Naruhito’s younger brother, 53-year-old Prince Fumihito. Fumihito will be followed by his son, Hisahito.

Emperor Naruhito, the environmentalist

I had occasion to meet Prince Naruhito, Japan’s next emperor in 1990, at an academic conference in Japan.

As a scholar of Japanese history, I spoke about the travels of a prominent samurai in early modern Japan. Naruhito – long a global advocate for clean water – presented his research, conducted at Oxford University, on medieval English water transport.

Naruhito has continued to develop his environmental pursuits since. In 2007, he was appointed honorary president of the United Nations Secretary General’s Advisory Board on Water and Sanitation.

Naruhito’s global civic engagement shows how the crown prince has sought to steer his own course in life.

His wife, Masako, will also be unlike any empress in Japanese history.

The daughter of a diplomat and fluent in several languages, Masako graduated from Harvard in 1985 with a degree in economics, and later studied law at the University of Tokyo. In 1987, she was one of only three women – in a pool of 800 applicants – to pass the entrance exam for the Japanese Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

Nahurito proposed three times before Masako agreed to marry him, in 1993. That decision forced her, reluctantly, to give up her diplomatic career.

The lifestyle change appears to have been difficult for Masako.

As crown princess, she came under intense pressure to produce a male heir. Royal household officials also limited her overseas travel and closely monitored her movements.

In 2001, eight years after their marriage, Masako gave birth – but to a girl, Aiko. Shortly afterward, she vanished from public life. According to her doctors, Masako suffered an “adjustment disorder” – what outside observers might identify as depression.

Prince Naruhito has broken with a royal tradition of discretion in 2004 and spoken publicly about his wife’s struggle to adapt to her constrained new existence.

“There were moves to negate Masako’s career and her personality, which was influenced by that career,” he told reporters in 2004.

Masako began reappearing in public again only in 2014. She has expressed both anxiety and optimism about becoming empress, given the stresses and ceremonial duties of that office.

Naruhito, for his part, says he will work to change how Japan’s royal family operates, updating the imperial household to reflect changing times.

His goal for his reign, he says, is to bring “a fresh breeze” to the Chrysanthemum Throne.

* * * * *

Constantine Nomikos Vaporis, Professor of History, University of Maryland, Baltimore County

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Header Image: ID 6838463 © Norman Chan | Dreamstime.com

Over the next few weeks, UMBC’s ART 427 Museum Practice class is working hard to get ready for its upcoming show: “Behind the Lens: The Visual Tales of Jim Burger.” The Retriever spoke with three students from the ART 427 class to get the inside scoop on what it takes to organize an art exhibit.

In ART 427, students were given a grouping of unsold works by Jim Burger, a local Baltimorean photographer. From that large cluster of photographs, students had to choose only 10-20 pieces for their own exhibition designs. After each student proposed their individual exhibition design, the class collectively agreed to use senior photography major Tyler Spooner’s design for their end-of-the-semester exhibit.

Choosing Spooner’s design is only the beginning of the exhibition process; however, the creation of the exhibit design is vital to the success of the exhibit. Junior art history and museum studies major McKenna Austin-Ward explains, “Theme comes first … and then go and build your collection around your theme.” With a solid theme chosen, the ART 427 students are now working out the nitty-gritty details to prepare for the installation of the exhibit. Contrary to what some people may think, a lot goes into an exhibit before the installation process begins.

Hannah Bashar, a junior biology and art history major, describes the pre-installation process, “We each have dedicated roles such as marketing manager who takes care of social media marketing, designers and editors who make sure our materials and branding are consistent, technicians and interviewers … and exhibition manager to keep us all on track.”

Spooner remarked, “The mission that I had in my proposal for this is to have visitors engage with the exhibition and hope to inspire them into sharing their own photos and their own stories that go along with them because storytelling is the backbone of our culture.”

The exhibition invites viewers to not only view the various photographs of the people of Baltimore but to also hear the stories behind some select photos. According to Spooner, an audio aspect will be added in the exhibit so that the viewer can hear Burger’s intentions behind the photographs.

When asked why storytelling is important, Austin-Ward responded, “I think they [stories] almost provide a sense of stability in somebody’s life if they can connect with the past.” Spooner also added, “With these stories we learn about specifically within our own families, we’re able to learn about where our families come from, who people in our families are.”

The exhibit, “Behind the Lens: The Visual Tales of Jim Burger,” allows viewers to slow down from their fast-paced lives, shift their focuses away from where their futures will lead and to, instead, reflect on how they came to be where they are. Baltimore is a diverse city with an equally diverse oral history, and Burger’s photos represent the uniqueness of the stories of the people of Baltimore.

The installation will begin on May 8, and the opening reception for the show will be on May 10 from 6 to 8 p.m. at the Hal Gomer Gallery in the Chesapeake Arts Center. The exhibit will run from May 10-18, so come out to learn about the stories behind Baltimore’s citizens and to support the hard work of the students in ART 427.

The Baltimore Museum of Art presents, “Delights of an Undirected Mind,” a collection of art pieces through various mediums, all sculpted to convey uncensored psychological distress and power. Nathalie Djurberg and Hans Berg, the artistic duo responsible, collaborated to create a Surrealistic portrayal of emotional tension.

“Delights of an Undirected Mind” transports the viewer into a dream vision, a world of their own mind’s creation prompted by Djurberg’s and Berg’s assembly of color and light. Each piece speaks both a literal meaning, for all to understand and enjoy, and an underlying subconscious meaning, only for the hurt and the suffering.

These viewers can feel the turmoil in their hearts, in the pits of their stomachs, in their heads. It is a painful truth no one wants to call forward, but pain, unfortunately, is readily remembered. Djurberg and Berg comfort these viewers with a sense of relation in their artwork. No matter what their minds may convince them is falsely true, they are not alone.

This collection of works projects these themes through different forms of art such as sculpture, light and sound. However, the artists’ use of animation was the most memorable and influential element of the entire collection.

Creepy figures with exaggerated facial features sculpted from clay starred in short, stop-motion animated films titled “Delights of an Undirected Mind,” “Dark Side of the Moon” and “Snake with a Mouth-Sewn Shut, or, This is a Celebration.”

Each of these animations served as a visual portrayal of personal conflict and confusion; they seethed feelings of discomfort and uneasiness that transferred to the viewer as intended. Art is meant to reflect one’s emotions and cognition in a way for the viewer to feel it themselves. That is exactly what these animated clips did.

“Snake with a Mouth-Sewn Shut, or, This is a Celebration” shifts between scenes following a baby and a woman who is being eaten by some sort of creature. Both the woman and the baby are in the same setting in a dark room. On the walls, there is a continuous string of written words and phrases that express the emotional distress of the characters.

Many of these phrases share resentment and distrust towards the characters’ mothers, claiming their mothers had neither protected them nor warned them about possible psychological distress and pain: “Mother, how could you trick me like that / How could you let me wait, for God.” These claims do not necessarily blame the mother figures; rather they come from a place of confusion and vulnerability. The mother did not trust or validate her daughter’s feelings of hopelessness, ultimately leading to more emotional turmoil.

This animated film can harvest many different interpretations. One perspective may see that the baby and the woman in the film are actually the same characters shown at different ages. The purity of the baby presents the woman’s vulnerability and submission to unconditional trust in her youth. She trusted her mother to protect her from the world’s greatest evils. Now, as a grown woman, she suffers from the unmanageable growth of her unexpected psychological distress.

Another interpretation explores the theme of postpartum depression. The woman in the animation could be the mother of the baby. In which case, the words on the wall could present the communication between mother and child, the child pleading for attention and protection the mother does not feel mentally fit to provide. The mother’s guilt consumes her, fearing that her own psychological pain is negatively and permanently affecting her innocent child.

The animation finishes with the words, “This is a celebration.” This utterly optimistic statement deeply contrasts with the entire short film which shined a light on dark, typically hidden thoughts. This phrase could be read with a hint of sarcasm, referring to those who “comfort” sufferers by assuring pain is merely a measure of endurance and a test of strength. In other words, sufferers are typically told that their turmoil is a normal reflection of life, and life, we are told, should be celebrated regardless of its difficulty.

Djurberg and Berg gave their subconsciousness and unrelenting thoughts complete reign over this collection. Their undirected minds created a beautiful depiction of a sometimes evil world that one’s mind can become immersed in. “Delights of an Undirected Mind” proves that although the mind can create petrifying cognitions, it can also produce art and muse of a world greater than reality.

If there’s one thing consumers have learned, it’s that there are very few “good” corporations. Just scratching a bit below the surface, it’s easy to see the most corporations have some skeletons in the closet. Most people are aware of the anti-LGBT rhetoric Chick-fil-A’s CEO and foundation have used in the past decade.

Most recognizably, the Chick-fil-A Foundation donated 1.65 million dollars in 2017 to the Fellowship of Christian Athletes, a well-known anti-LGBT organization, which not only requires its employees to “refrain from homosexual acts,” but also considers gay and bisexual people to be “sinful.”

They also donated 6,000 dollars to the Paul Anderson Youth Home in Georgia, a Christian home that masquerades as a welcoming place for “troubled young men,” but actually teaches the boys that homosexuality is evil and a product of abuse of children.

In addition to this indirect endorsement of anti-LGBT expression, Chick-fil-A’s founder, Truett Cathy’s foundation WinShape has consistently donated to groups that are against same-sex marriage. The current CEO, Dan Cathy, came under fire for anti-gay comments, and only backtracked slightly, stating “I think the time of truths and principles are captured and codified in God’s word and I’m just personally committed to that. I know others feel very different from that and I respect their opinion and I hope that they would be respectful of mine.” In short, the CEO and the company’s foundation are anti-LGBT rights, and won’t be changing their tune any time soon.

And while few corporations are saintly, Cathy’s refusal to change his mind about his anti-gay remarks shows that Chick-fil-A stands for one thing (beyond chicken): inequality.

Some campuses have begun to denounce the restaurant, including New York University, which is ranked as one of the most LGBT-friendly campuses in the United States according to the Huffington Post. Protests against Chick-fil-A came and went on NYU’s campus, however the Chick-fil-A was still introduced. However, Rider University in New Jersey released a statement at the end of 2018 detailing the decision to eliminate Chick-fil-a as an option for new restaurants. President Gregory G. Dell’Omo and Vice President Leanna Fenneberg stated that “The choices in this situation, like in so many others, were imperfect. They challenged us to reflect on our values and consider what kind of community we want to provide for those who live and learn at Rider University. Ultimately, we decided to lean in the direction of creating a welcoming environment where differences can be appreciated and where each individual can expect to experience dignity and respect.”

UMBC is another campus which prides itself on inclusivity. In fact, in our Master Plan 2019 states that our goal is to “create a sense of ‘campus life’ which supports multi-culturalism, student/faculty engagement, community interaction and social responsibility.” If these truly are our values, and not simply jargon constructed to better our image and appeal to incoming students, we should not have to follow in the footsteps of braver institutions — we should be leading, speaking out against indirect financial support of these abhorrent values. It’s true that ethical consumption is difficult, maybe impossible, to navigate, but we need to be conscious of the message that our corporate ties send. 

So how is it possible that an institution as flawed, harmful and exclusive as Chick-fil-A could exist with UMBC’s mission and groups like the Women’s Center and the Mosaic Center on campus? And unfortunately, it’s not simply existing here at UMBC. It’s expanding.

In 2018, according to Tom DeLuca, the resident district manager for Chartwells as UMBC, there was a conversation about an expansion conducted with participation from the University’s Evaluation Committee and a University Advisory Committee which included UMBC students, faculty and staff.

“Chartwells’ proposal to the University included a renovation of the Chick-fil-A venue from an “express” to a full-service model which will improve speed of service and add milkshakes to the menu. This project, along with others, was discussed at the interview session and this expansion was received positively,” said DeLuca. “Subsequently, Chartwells was selected as the Dining Services Contractor and the new contract commenced on July 1, 2018.”

This expansion is proposed to finish by Fall 2019. So not only does Chick-fil-A exist on UMBC’s campus, it is set to be expanded upon.

It’s not as if corporations cannot atone for past mistakes. For example, UMBC also has an Einstein’s Bagel restaurant on campus in the library. Recently one of the companies that owns Einstein Bros., JAB Holdings, acknowledged that they profited from the Third Reich. In response, the current partners condemned the horrific acts of the Nazi Regime, and donated 11 million dollars to charity.

Corporations cannot escape their pasts nor can they take back offensive statements. However, what they can and should do, is respond with grace and apologies, rather than firmly upholding discriminatory words, which is what Chick-fil-A has chosen to do.

UMBC should be ashamed of the decision to expand Chick-fil-A on campus. Instead of putting money into a corporation that has denounced an important part of our community, UMBC should choose to replace Chick-fil-A with a more ethical place for students to get food, one that is well-researched and stands for equality, not the world as a more hateful place.