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Pride of the Nappy-Headed Hoes

There was an enormous protest today on the traditional women’s college campus of Rutgers University over Don Imus. Imus, of course, disparaged the University’s second place NCAA women’s basketball team in crudely racist and demeaning terms about two weeks ago. The controversy, which has raged across the country and which threatens Imus’ career, started out with very little notice here: a “dart” to Imus in the Daily Targum newspaper’s traditional “Darts and Laurels” Friday editorial. Today’s rally, however, seemed to attract the majority of the student body of Cook and Douglas Colleges, and cleared out the staff from most of the offices.

The women’s basketball team’s success in the Final Four tournament united the women and the bleeding hearts of Rutgers University in a way that the comparable success of the school’s football team – which came at the expense of budget cuts to academic programs and less popular sports – never could. Such feminist support was underscored by the signs that protesters carried, which read “Rutgers Women R Strong Women” (Imus described the team as “rough-looking” tattooed women and “nappy-headed hoes” and expressed a preference for the “cute” Lady Volunteers of Tennessee). But Imus’ racism – no matter how much he insists he is a “good person” – is clear and unmistakable. Kinky hair and eurocentric standards of beauty are enormously sensitive topics and the rooting for “white” over “black” is the very definition of racism. And yet, this racism bubbled up and spilled forth so effortlessly, coming from the same dark pit (more like a shallow ditch) as Michael “Kramer” Richards’ “joke” about lynching niggers who dare to talk through his set, or as your crazy uncle’s “jokes” about black moms and velcro.

I’m inclined to agree with the protesters (most famously Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson) who complain that Imus’ apology rings hollow, and call for his termination. Our media and politics have coarsened to such a point that a great number of shock jocks and pundits profit by saying outrageously insulting and offensive things, and if any of them result in a controversy that proves dangerous to their careers, they quickly apologize and claim it was a joke. But what was the joke here? That Don Imus doesn’t really think the Lady Volunteers were cute? That the Rutgers Scarlet Knights are actually blonde, light-skinned and unmarked by tattoos?

There was no joke. Just mean-spirited taunting, the kind that is casually tossed around in talk media. Examples should be made. Don Imus made the poor choice to elect himself to serve as that example.

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Comrades in the Library

The Times has an article on one of my favorite places in the world, the Tamiment Institute archives at NYU, which has recently acquired a huge chunk of the Communist Party USA’s files. The CP should really be applauded for its openness and willingness to view its past truly as history. I have seen some of the neato gems of these files – such as Seeger’s handwritten lyrics to “Turn! Turn! Turn!” – on display while doing my own research at the library.

It was there that I recently found Michael Obermeier’s letter to Jay Rubin. The letter would have provided much-needed pathos to the term paper that I ultimately wrote about the Communists who founded New York’s Hotel Employees union, who were ultimately thrown out early in the Cold War. The letter was meticulously misfiled away with Rubin’s correspondence from the 1970’s (he must have kept the letter close at hand until the end of his tenure). Most of the union’s files are archived at Tamiment, so I’ve spent much time there.

I’ve continued to write about the union in term papers on its organizing strategy, its health care politics and its collective bargaining. I will ultimately flesh out my earlier term paper on the Communist influence and betrayal in Local 6 in my Masters thesis, which I hope to have published (which is why I have hesitated to post that earlier paper on this site).

In the meantime, I gather as much material as I can. I FOIA FBI and INS files, seek out sister unions’ files and living relatives of the main players. The Communist Party’s archives are quite promising for my research, although the most explosive material was likely shipped over to the Soviet Union in the late 1940’s. It exists today at the Library of Congress and at Tamiment as a microfiche reproduction of the source material in Moscow. The files are indexed in Russian, so I will likely need some translation assistance, tovarich.

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The Science of Blind Dating

I have a confession to make. I go on internet dates. And why not? It’s a perfectly reasonable way to meet people in this new century and have a reasonable expectation that you’ll at least have enough in common to sustain a dinner conversation. I’ve started a few good relationships this way. A few have lasted as friendships. What makes the whole endeavor truly sporting is the ever-present threat of a Really Bad Date. On more than one occasion, I’ve found myself trapped at a restaurant, puzzling over what crazy computer monkey thought we’d be a good match, only to leave wondering, “What did she think about that car wreck of a date?”

Rubbernecking is the main appeal of the Washington Post’s newish Sunday feature, Date Lab, wherein our favorite community newspaper sets up two complete strangers based upon some dubious shard trait or desire, and then documents all the gory details.

Take, as a deliciously typical example, the young woman who wanted to be set up with a Jewish doctor. Quickly, she finds, “he monopolized the conversation and totally excluded me. And he asked why I wasn’t showing any cleavage.” (“It was totally within context at the time, but I can’t remember how,” he defends.) Each column ends with the Date Lab Rats rating the experience (“I’d rate the evening a 3 [out of 5]. We’re not the best match, but I’m not entirely convinced that if I went out with him again, it’d be awful.”), and a post-script updating our potential couple’s follow-up. In this case, our young woman e-mailed the Jewish Doctor, “listing 14 things he’d done that ‘you should never ever do on a first date.'”

So it goes, week in and week out. It’s a comforting format, one which helps us imagine how to fill in the blanks from our own (non-major-media-sponsored) blind dates. The Date Lab Rats are interviewed a few days later, and the column is structured chronologically in a “he said / she said” format, which really brings out the venom. Take these (revisionist) first meetings:

  • “From the first glance, it was like, It ain’t happening . There was an awkward moment — mutual disappointment or surprise or whatever. Physically, Jennifer was fine. But I wasn’t expecting a white girl.”
  • “I had a good eight inches on him. I think the date was over before it really started.”
  • He was in a shirt and tie; he looked like any generic guy in D.C. Looks-wise, he’s the type of guy that I’d end up dating, but I wouldn’t say, ‘That’s what I’m looking for.'”
  • “She was okay. She had a nice smile. But she was heavier than I thought she’d be.”

    • Ultimately, there’s the wonderfully awkward parting of the ways:

  • “I think he would have gone in for a kiss, but I just went into a hug.”
  • “I thought we’d at least exchange numbers. Instead, we had a weird hug — he only used one arm — and that was it.”
  • “He walked me to my car and said, ‘I’ll see you in the paper.'”
  • “Then, as I prepared to hug her goodbye, she said, ‘Here, take [my number] down.’ I could have said I wasn’t interested, but that would’ve been rude.”
  • “I may have to go back and talk to the hostess, though. She was a sista with dreadlocks. Definitely my type: young, cute and skinny.”

    • And, best of all, what all dates need: A rating on a scale of one to five!

  • “I’d give it a 4 out of 5, because I was surprised we were able to talk for so long.”
  • “I’d rate it a 2.5…I almost can’t call it a date: We were two people who met for dinner and went through the interview.”
  • “I’d give the date a 4 [out of 5]. I’d definitely like to see him again. And he was interested — he wouldn’t have given me his number if he wasn’t.”

    • It’s enough to tempt me to move to D.C. just to participate in Date Lab. At the very least, I’ll continue to read every cringe-inducing moment every Sunday morning.

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    Letter From Munich, 1953

    Munich, June 12, 1953

    Dear Jay,

    It’s over a half a year now, since we stood on that ship to say goodby. You asked me to write and I promised to do so. To tell you the truth I hesitated because I did not want to be carried away with my feelings. I was a very disappointed man, not because of the court proceedings, the prison, ect. but because of my so called friends, the last days in the Union, the way Georgette was treated and Sindeys promises were certainly an agony to go through with. If you took away the carfare from the collection money for Georgette, she could not have existed on the support. She took the bus only to save money and she could have visited me more often but $30 was too much. Many a guest of Local 6 was more expensive that all the Local spend. You certainly cannot count the court and lawyers expenses of which nothing came to me. I am sure I saved many others a lot of troubles and I could have had an easy way out. All those that knew my dilemma from the beginning and insisted on holding the fort have certainly some obligations. All ratting came from within the International as you know. O yes I was in Dachau the other day and some fellows seem to know a certain Dutchman’s past his name was Hausend and later Hownsend. Very interesting how he became anti Nazi all of a sudden.

    Since I am here I was mostly busy with my affairs. The only political demonstration I witnessed was May 1st. Somehow I was drenched by the police after the big meeting. It was very interesting and reminded me on the early days on Union Square. The water was easyer than theirs and the police men were rather hesitating but efficient. There was less of the bunch of foreigner attitude. I had lots of problems with my papers, also to find a place to stay for me and Georgette. The temporary room with my mother and sister could not be counted on. My mother is 86 and a sick person. Her mind is in her childhood as she has a hardening of the arteries. She does not recognize me any more only from the past she remembers. Rooms are scarce and expensive. They wanted from 200 to 400 marks a month for a furnished place. I finally arranged with my brother to let me built a big room in his house. What a job to get permission but all was ready when Georgette came although most of it was built illegal. So we have a room with all the comfort. We raise chickens, have our eggs, our vegetables, our fruits. I get the food wholesale. We are managing. The building and all the expenses since we left amount to $7000, so we are now depending on the income from the Flushing mortgage of 82.50 a month which is fine if nothing happens. It seems that the old age pension I counted on is very questionable. I can always take care of myself as you said but it is an irony that I fought far far back for pension and security, I had it on the old Hotelworker program in 1917 and now I have such a tight squeeze. Hugo Ernst did not object to 50 a week that time. And the testimonial. He wanted me to get a body guard so everything could be safely transferred. Lehman in Local 1 gets 25 a week. So some of our officers realize what price I am paying. I was not impressed by that editorial in Local 6 about me. It was carefully worded that I had something to do with the Hotel Workers but it did not need Local 89 to answer 15. Did I not serve time before in fighting injunctions. Those were 20 years before 6 and we always had a Union. Even my wife worked and my children saw me in jail when they were 6 years old. That a blackmailer like Ventura should get a job is not understandable to me in my old fashioned Union concept. That fruit basket presented by Herman was certainly a joke. Anybody traveling on a Swedish ship knows that you get all the fruit and canned fish you want and candy is poison for me as a diabetic person. The Swedish stewardesses send their thanks, as I did not want trouble with the rostrum duties. I would have liked the money much better and could use it. I had some troubles about my papers – first my registration, had to trace my ancestors 3 generations, then I needed my identification card. Had to see the Chief Justice of the Bavarian Court and the Police Commissioner, ect. Luckily my brother is well known. To get my passport I had to go to Bonn. American pressure was there all over and after 3 months I got it. By the way Kay’s brother is in a real top position. He is nat’l President of the Government employees and has access all over. Finally I became a divisininlandzerman. I can work, get a job, have a car. They had my money stopped in the bank until I passed all that. I need a briefcase just to carry my papers with me. I wanted to drive a car and had to go to auto drivers school and pass a police test with all sorts of theoretical questions. Everything the hard way. MY New York license was canceled, me being a felon. One thing the German union officials were very nice and were concerned if I needed assistance. They offered direct help which I would be ashamed to take. I must say that the generous help of Local 89 had helped to provide me with a few comforts.

    So you have an idea how I feel and what I do. My best regards to all friends and I will get around to write a few soon. Hoping you are in good health.

    I remain with best wishes,
    Mike