Stranger at the Gates: A Summer in Mississippi
Cuvânt înainte de Fannie Lou Hamer Introducere de Charles McLaurin Autor Tracy Sugarmanen Limba Engleză Paperback – 9 iun 2014
During the summer of 1964, over one thousand people, including many college students went to Mississippi as part of a state wide effort to register African-American voters and to establish teaching centers that became known as "Freedom Schools."
Participants began their training at a college campus in Ohio. Motivated by a strong sense of social justice, Tracy Sugarman, an artist and commercial illustrator from Westport, Connecticut, joined the volunteers in Ohio and set out to document the people and events of what turned out to be an historic period. Sugarman joined the freedom riders, and while somewhat older and more experienced than most of them, was an active participant throughout.
Sugarman traveled to Mississippi and shared all the experiences of the workers as well as their fears and anxiety as they were greeted by anger and violence by many white Mississippians. Sugarman describes and beautifully illustrates the living conditions, day-to-day activities, and the interpersonal relationships that developed between the host families and the visitors.
The author introduces us and vividly portrays many of the important people in the movement, including Bob Moses and many others, but he also focuses on the ordinary citizens and hosts.
Other works have set forth the significant events that occurred during that summer, including especially the Goodman/Schwerner/Chaney murders that took place in Neshoba County and startled the American public. This first hand account focuses more on the human experiences and its meaning for participants. It is an essential source of information about what Freedom Summer did for those who took part in it and now, with the 50th anniversary of Freedom Summer, Stranger at the Gates will bring to life this momentous period for modern readers.
Most of the wonderful illustrations created for the 1966 edition of Stranger at the Gates have been reproduced here, and as a special bonus, 26 illustrations that were not included in the original book are included in a gallery of Freedom Summer in brilliant drawings that bring to life, in Tracy Sugarman's powerful reportorial style, the people and places of 1964 Mississippi.
Participants began their training at a college campus in Ohio. Motivated by a strong sense of social justice, Tracy Sugarman, an artist and commercial illustrator from Westport, Connecticut, joined the volunteers in Ohio and set out to document the people and events of what turned out to be an historic period. Sugarman joined the freedom riders, and while somewhat older and more experienced than most of them, was an active participant throughout.
Sugarman traveled to Mississippi and shared all the experiences of the workers as well as their fears and anxiety as they were greeted by anger and violence by many white Mississippians. Sugarman describes and beautifully illustrates the living conditions, day-to-day activities, and the interpersonal relationships that developed between the host families and the visitors.
The author introduces us and vividly portrays many of the important people in the movement, including Bob Moses and many others, but he also focuses on the ordinary citizens and hosts.
Other works have set forth the significant events that occurred during that summer, including especially the Goodman/Schwerner/Chaney murders that took place in Neshoba County and startled the American public. This first hand account focuses more on the human experiences and its meaning for participants. It is an essential source of information about what Freedom Summer did for those who took part in it and now, with the 50th anniversary of Freedom Summer, Stranger at the Gates will bring to life this momentous period for modern readers.
Most of the wonderful illustrations created for the 1966 edition of Stranger at the Gates have been reproduced here, and as a special bonus, 26 illustrations that were not included in the original book are included in a gallery of Freedom Summer in brilliant drawings that bring to life, in Tracy Sugarman's powerful reportorial style, the people and places of 1964 Mississippi.
Preț: 65.96 lei
Preț vechi: 83.03 lei
-21% Nou
Puncte Express: 99
Preț estimativ în valută:
12.62€ • 13.35$ • 10.53£
12.62€ • 13.35$ • 10.53£
Carte indisponibilă temporar
Doresc să fiu notificat când acest titlu va fi disponibil:
Se trimite...
Preluare comenzi: 021 569.72.76
Specificații
ISBN-13: 9781935212843
ISBN-10: 1935212842
Pagini: 284
Dimensiuni: 140 x 211 x 25 mm
Greutate: 0.39 kg
Editura: Prospecta Press
Colecția Prospecta Press
ISBN-10: 1935212842
Pagini: 284
Dimensiuni: 140 x 211 x 25 mm
Greutate: 0.39 kg
Editura: Prospecta Press
Colecția Prospecta Press
Notă biografică
Tracy Sugarman, born 1921 in Syracuse, NY, was a renowned American illustrator with an active career spanning more than sixty years. He did commercial art for magazines, made over 100 record album covers, and illustrated dozens of childrens' books.
He was politically engaged, becoming involved in the Civil Rights movement in the early sixties, and was inspired after hearing Martin Luther King, Jr. speak at a local Connecticut synagogue, joined the Freedom Summer program in 1964, where he documented the work of young community organizers and the people they worked with in Ruleville, Mississippi. The work he did during two summers in the South was turned into this book, Stranger at the Gates, published by Hill and Wang in 1966.
Tracy was actively engaged in progressive political work for the entirety of his long life.
In his later years, he published several books of writing and art, including My War, which documented his time in the US Navy during WWII and We Had Sneakers, They Had Guns, which is a first hand account of the early years of the civil rights movement. His first novel, Nobody Said Amen was published when he was 91.
He was politically engaged, becoming involved in the Civil Rights movement in the early sixties, and was inspired after hearing Martin Luther King, Jr. speak at a local Connecticut synagogue, joined the Freedom Summer program in 1964, where he documented the work of young community organizers and the people they worked with in Ruleville, Mississippi. The work he did during two summers in the South was turned into this book, Stranger at the Gates, published by Hill and Wang in 1966.
Tracy was actively engaged in progressive political work for the entirety of his long life.
In his later years, he published several books of writing and art, including My War, which documented his time in the US Navy during WWII and We Had Sneakers, They Had Guns, which is a first hand account of the early years of the civil rights movement. His first novel, Nobody Said Amen was published when he was 91.
Extras
ORIGINAL FOREWORD by Fannie Lou Hamer
Ninety percent of the Negro people in Mississippi have gone to church all their lives. They have lived with the hope that if they kept “standing up” in a Christian manner, things would change. After we found out that Christian love alone wouldn’t cure the sickness in Mississippi, then we knew we had other things to do.
There was no real Civil Rights Movement in the Negro community in Mississippi before the 1964 Summer Project. There were people that wanted change, but they hadn’t dared to come out and try to do something, to try to change the way things were. But after the 1964 project when all of the young people came down for the summer—an exciting and remarkable summer—Negro people in the Delta began moving. People who had never before tried, though they had always been anxious to do something, began moving. Now, in 1966, even Negroes who live on the plantations slip off the plantations and go to civil rights meetings. “We wanted to do this so long,” they say. When some of us get up and blast out at the meetings, these women go back home—these men go back home—and in the next day or two the kids come. They say, “My mother told us what you talked about last night.” That’s great! To see kids, to see these people—to see how far they’ve come since 1964! To me it’s one of the greatest things that ever happened in Mississippi. And it’s a direct result of the Summer Project in 1964.
I believe in Christianity. To me, the 1964 Summer Project was the beginning of a New Kingdom right here on earth. The kinds of people who came down from the North—from all over—who didn’t know anything about us—were like the Good Samaritan. In that Bible story, the people had passed by the wounded man—like the church has passed the Negroes in Mississippi—and never taken the time to see what was going on. But these people who came to Mississippi that summer—although they were strangers—walked up to our door. They started something that no one could ever stop. These people were willing to move in a nonviolent way to bring a change in the South. Although they were strangers, they were the best friends we ever met. This was the beginning of the New Kingdom in Mississippi. To me, if I had to choose today between the church and these young people—and I was brought up in the church and I’m not against the church—I’d choose these young people. They did something in Mississippi that gave us the hope that we had prayed for for so many years. We had wondered if there was anybody human enough to see us as human beings instead of animals.
These young people were so Christlike! James Chaney, Andrew Goodman, and Michael Schwerner gave their lives that one day we would be free. If Christ were here today, He would be just like these young people who the southerners called radicals and beatniks. Christ was called a Beelzebub, called so many names. But He was Christ. I can hardly express what those students and that summer meant to me—what it meant to the people who didn’t dare say anything. Because when they would get a chance, they would express how they felt. As a result of that summer, we Negroes are working—slow—but we’re moving. Not only did it have an effect on the black people of Mississippi but it touched some of the white people who don’t yet dare speak out. This is important.
My family was like thousands of other families in Mississippi. My grandmother was a slave. My mother passed away in 1961. She was ninety-eight years old. We were taught something in Mississippi I’m not ashamed of today. We were taught to love. We were taught to not hate. And we were taught to stand on principle, stand on what we believe. I often remember my mother telling me, “If you respect yourself, one day somebody else will respect you.”
The reason that we Negroes in Mississippi are not bitter is because most of us were brought up in church from an early age. A child has to be taught to hate. We were taught to love and to have faith. My father used to read a scripture from the Bible: “Faith is the substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen.” We Negroes had hoped and we had faith to hope, though we didn’t know what we had hoped for. When the people came to Mississippi in 1964, to us it was the result of all our faith—all we had always hoped for. Our prayers and all we had lived for day after day hadn’t been in vain. In 1964 the faith that we had hoped for started to be translated into action. Now we have action, and we’re doing something that will not only free the black man in Mississippi but hopefully will free the white one as well. No man is an island to himself.
I used to say when I was working so hard in the fields, if I could go to Washington—to the Justice Department—to the FBI—get close enough to let them know what was going on in Mississippi, I was sure that things would change in a week. Now that I have traveled across America, been to the Congress, to the Justice Department, to the FBI, I am faced with things I’m not too sure I wanted to find out. The sickness in Mississippi is not a Mississippi sickness. This is America’s sickness. We talk about democracy, we talk about the land of the free, but it’s not true. We talk about freedom of speech, but in every corner of this United States men who try to speak the truth are crushed. The crisis in Mississippi made young people who are going to the college campuses all across the United States start to question: “What is going on around here?” Now, because of these young people, we have a chance to make democracy a reality. We often talk about it. We often express it. But you can go to the slums in Harlem, the slums in Chicago, the slums in California, the slums in Pennsylvania, the slums in Washington, D.C., and you’ll find the race problem no different in kind from the problem in Mississippi. We don’t have democracy now. But the great part about the young people in this country is that they want to change things. They want to make democracy a reality in the whole country—if it is not already too late.
MRS. FANNIE LOU HAMER
Ruleville, Mississippi
Ninety percent of the Negro people in Mississippi have gone to church all their lives. They have lived with the hope that if they kept “standing up” in a Christian manner, things would change. After we found out that Christian love alone wouldn’t cure the sickness in Mississippi, then we knew we had other things to do.
There was no real Civil Rights Movement in the Negro community in Mississippi before the 1964 Summer Project. There were people that wanted change, but they hadn’t dared to come out and try to do something, to try to change the way things were. But after the 1964 project when all of the young people came down for the summer—an exciting and remarkable summer—Negro people in the Delta began moving. People who had never before tried, though they had always been anxious to do something, began moving. Now, in 1966, even Negroes who live on the plantations slip off the plantations and go to civil rights meetings. “We wanted to do this so long,” they say. When some of us get up and blast out at the meetings, these women go back home—these men go back home—and in the next day or two the kids come. They say, “My mother told us what you talked about last night.” That’s great! To see kids, to see these people—to see how far they’ve come since 1964! To me it’s one of the greatest things that ever happened in Mississippi. And it’s a direct result of the Summer Project in 1964.
I believe in Christianity. To me, the 1964 Summer Project was the beginning of a New Kingdom right here on earth. The kinds of people who came down from the North—from all over—who didn’t know anything about us—were like the Good Samaritan. In that Bible story, the people had passed by the wounded man—like the church has passed the Negroes in Mississippi—and never taken the time to see what was going on. But these people who came to Mississippi that summer—although they were strangers—walked up to our door. They started something that no one could ever stop. These people were willing to move in a nonviolent way to bring a change in the South. Although they were strangers, they were the best friends we ever met. This was the beginning of the New Kingdom in Mississippi. To me, if I had to choose today between the church and these young people—and I was brought up in the church and I’m not against the church—I’d choose these young people. They did something in Mississippi that gave us the hope that we had prayed for for so many years. We had wondered if there was anybody human enough to see us as human beings instead of animals.
These young people were so Christlike! James Chaney, Andrew Goodman, and Michael Schwerner gave their lives that one day we would be free. If Christ were here today, He would be just like these young people who the southerners called radicals and beatniks. Christ was called a Beelzebub, called so many names. But He was Christ. I can hardly express what those students and that summer meant to me—what it meant to the people who didn’t dare say anything. Because when they would get a chance, they would express how they felt. As a result of that summer, we Negroes are working—slow—but we’re moving. Not only did it have an effect on the black people of Mississippi but it touched some of the white people who don’t yet dare speak out. This is important.
My family was like thousands of other families in Mississippi. My grandmother was a slave. My mother passed away in 1961. She was ninety-eight years old. We were taught something in Mississippi I’m not ashamed of today. We were taught to love. We were taught to not hate. And we were taught to stand on principle, stand on what we believe. I often remember my mother telling me, “If you respect yourself, one day somebody else will respect you.”
The reason that we Negroes in Mississippi are not bitter is because most of us were brought up in church from an early age. A child has to be taught to hate. We were taught to love and to have faith. My father used to read a scripture from the Bible: “Faith is the substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen.” We Negroes had hoped and we had faith to hope, though we didn’t know what we had hoped for. When the people came to Mississippi in 1964, to us it was the result of all our faith—all we had always hoped for. Our prayers and all we had lived for day after day hadn’t been in vain. In 1964 the faith that we had hoped for started to be translated into action. Now we have action, and we’re doing something that will not only free the black man in Mississippi but hopefully will free the white one as well. No man is an island to himself.
I used to say when I was working so hard in the fields, if I could go to Washington—to the Justice Department—to the FBI—get close enough to let them know what was going on in Mississippi, I was sure that things would change in a week. Now that I have traveled across America, been to the Congress, to the Justice Department, to the FBI, I am faced with things I’m not too sure I wanted to find out. The sickness in Mississippi is not a Mississippi sickness. This is America’s sickness. We talk about democracy, we talk about the land of the free, but it’s not true. We talk about freedom of speech, but in every corner of this United States men who try to speak the truth are crushed. The crisis in Mississippi made young people who are going to the college campuses all across the United States start to question: “What is going on around here?” Now, because of these young people, we have a chance to make democracy a reality. We often talk about it. We often express it. But you can go to the slums in Harlem, the slums in Chicago, the slums in California, the slums in Pennsylvania, the slums in Washington, D.C., and you’ll find the race problem no different in kind from the problem in Mississippi. We don’t have democracy now. But the great part about the young people in this country is that they want to change things. They want to make democracy a reality in the whole country—if it is not already too late.
MRS. FANNIE LOU HAMER
Ruleville, Mississippi