J. Edgar Hoover’s Commencement Speech at Sewanee, 1941

In June 1941, the University of the South in Sewanee conferred forty-six undergraduate degrees, five honorary degrees, and heard the Latin salutatory of Frank Dana, Jr, which was reprinted in full (as is meet and right) in the Sewanee Purple. Also speaking was FBI director, J. Edgar Hoover, whose remarks have not been widely available, but which I reprint below.

The physical text of the speech, entitled, “YOUR FUTURE TASK,” is at Harvard though a scan of it can be found on HathiTrust, if you’d like a copy of your own to pore over. Undoubtedly Hoover gave versions of this same speech at other schools, and beyond the opening nod to “the serenity and unhurried quiet of this peaceful mountain retreat,” it’s just boilerplate, the sort of thing hungover seniors have snoozed through for generations.

But the whole thing is below, at any rate, and if what you crave is a rage-filled, red-baiting performance of Christian/American/masculine demagoguery, then happy reading!

(In a future post, I may offer some thoughts of my own on this speech, and I would welcome your thoughts in the comments below. Feel free to repost– as a product of a public employee, the whole thing’s in the public domain.)

(I also plan to post what happened locally in the aftermath of this speech, which, as you could guess, is an early chapter in the history of rightwing nationalism trickling down to the regional level)

Address of John Edgar Hoover, Director,

Federal Bureau of Investigation, United States Department of Justice,

at the Commencement Exercises of The University of the South,

Sewanee, Tennessee, on June 9, 1941, at 10:00 A.M.

YOUR FUTURE TASK

I find it difficult, in the serenity and unhurried quiet of this peaceful mountain retreat, to discuss with you the deeply disturbing realities of the outside world in these few brief minutes I am privileged to be with you. It is a comforting and inspiring experience to look into the brave, open countenances of you young men who are about to go out into the world and take up the task which is waiting for you — to carry on the fight for the ideals and privileges of freedom and liberty which we all hold dear. The obstacles and trials in the paths of each of you are many and grave; heroic and forthright qualities of the soul are required to conquer them. Those very obstacles, however, constitute a great and glorious challenge — a challenge it is your heritage and obligation to accept so that you, too, may become welded, as did our forefathers, into the very brawn, brain and sinew of our nation.

In the acceptance of any challenge, the primary quality is courage. The founders of our great republic were the personification of courage in its finest form; today’s patriots can be equally brave, equally strong and equally essential to our sorely harassed nation. We need strong, young blood to strengthen veins which have been weakened by the creeping virus of apathy, lethargy, deceit and treachery — the rich, red blood of true Americanism!

Our forefathers remained steadfast in the face of ominous difficulties. They achieved an almost impossible task. They reached a summit of accomplishment that was the marvel of the civilized world. But they attained this only because they possessed an elemental, rugged, uncompromising courage in the face of almost overwhelming difficulties. They never knew the meaning of fear. The word “surrender” was not in their vocabulary. They were fighters, battlers for their high ideals — martyrs, if necessary. They were ready and eager to sacrifice everything that life holds dear for a cause that to them was greater and more sacred than life itself. They were proud to be Americans!

The caliber of our forebears is a precious heritage. Nothing that has been handed down to us by the fathers of our country can be retained unless we exert every possible physical, mental and moral effort for the attainment of our ideals, for the retention of our sacred heritage.

We of the FBI know how necessary is courage. The men of the FBI must meet the challenge of the lawless elements in all parts of our country. They must risk their lives in the capture of the most dangerous types of desperadoes. They must be willing to sacrifice all that man holds dear in order that the men, women and children of this country may be protected and safe in their daily life. These men have demonstrated heroically that the youth of America, properly trained and dedicated to high ideals, is the worthy successor of the youth of ’76 who won our freedom, and the youth thereafter who blazed the trails and broke the frontiers to build the greatest citadel of democracy.

It would be futile for me to attempt to point out the ways and means of living in order to acquire a balanced, forceful, effective character. Countless sermons have been preached; innumerable books have been written; the texts of righteousness are all around us. We simply need the courage to apply their principles to the attainment of worthy ends. You graduates today are the privileged possessors of what is termed “higher education.” All that men have said, done and known has been presented to you through the modern methods of education. The cultivation of mind alone, however, never will create character. There must be instilled in us and there must be developed by us those moral principles and attributes which have come down to us through the ages, with the sanctity of both divine and human authority.

To be a university graduate does not indicate by any means that a man possesses a rounded, fully developed character. A number of university graduates I have known have traveled paths that led to crime and disgrace. They have used their education to the detriment of the community, rather than for its benefit — their lives a curse to humanity and to themselves, a tragic distortion of all that youth should stand for. Therefore, you graduates will be strongly fortified in your battle of life, for battle it is, if you take into the world those time-honored and proven moral principles that have been inculcated here in this great institution, and that have been handed down to you by law-abiding, God-fearing ancestors.

One of the principal reasons for the demoralizing and shocking increase of crime in the past two decades has been the ineffectiveness of religious and moral influences in our individual communities. History in the past two thousand years has demonstrated that the forces that make men Christians make them good citizens. Let me remind you that as faith in The Supreme Being diminishes, so does character weaken — and so does the courage so vital to carry on the battle against the obstacles which today may be found on every side.

In the FBI, we demand that the character of our men be unsullied and above suspicion. All of the intellectual accomplishments that can be secured, all of the scholastic honors that can be attained, will not entitle a man to appointment in the FBI if it cannot be demonstrated that he possesses, in addition, a balanced, forceful, moral character. Just as there is no substitute for strong character in the work of the FBI, there is no substitute for strong character in life itself.

The world is desperately in need of young men with courage and character for today democracies are on trial. Our form of government is challenged throughout a large part of the earth by other essentially different and to us basically hateful systems, based upon the nefarious assumption of power to strangle the personal initiative, rights and freedom of the people in the priceless pursuit of the democratic way of life.

There is only one way in which democracy can answer dictatorship; that is by the proof that it is a more livable, a more intelligently human and a more humane form of government. To do this, it must be of the form which was given into the keeping of America by our forefathers; an athletic type of democracy, if I may so describe it, alert to every possible danger, yet never aggressive; quick in defense of our rights, yet never the bully or the braggart. This was the human, humble, virile, yet militantly protective democracy which grew and flourished so effectively until nearly a generation ago.

Then, did we grow too rich? Did we grow too tired? Did we become too lazy? Did we become dissatisfied with too much of plenty? Or did we forget those God-given qualities of sureness, of strength, of courage, and of vigilance which had made the eagle a symbol of this nation, and its sharpness of eye and smoothness of speed symbolical of the swiftness and unity with which we met and defeated an alien effort against our heritages?

Whatever it was, the change which came over us was fundamentally dangerous. At heart a law-abiding people, we became so lethargic, so apathetic to the encroachments of the underworld, that we permitted to grow within our boundaries a veritable army of criminally inclined men and women. Shocking as it may seem, there is a murder in our United States every 44 minutes; a major felony every 21 seconds. Of our entire population one out of every 26 persons has been arrested for some offense more serious than a minor violation of law. Was this the kind of nation for which Washington fought at Valley Forge? Was this the type of apathetic indifference to civic standards for which the soldiers of our Revolution gave of their life’s blood that they might build for us the world’s first real democracy?

With our minds engrossed in materialistic and selfish pursuits, we have allowed thousands of espousers of alien hate and foreign isms to enter our communities, our neighborhoods, our factories, our stores, our homes, and even our governmental agencies. I wonder what the heroes of 1776 would have thought could they have looked ahead to a day when disciples of destruction should be allowed to freely debate on how best to plunder our nation; or parade our streets by the thousands, jeering at our system of government while paying homage to such arch criminals as Stalin and Hitler. Could our forefathers have fought so fiercely at Bunker Hill if they had known we should allow this nation to be undermined by human termites, to be weakened by disrespect for our laws and customs, stolen from us by the very persons to whom we had given a haven of refuge from the tyrannies and godless philosophies which they would now impose upon us? There is something seriously wrong with the blood stream of America. When the paid vandals of a dictator power, dedicated to atheism, and destructionism, can be allowed to masquerade in this country as a political party, under the guise of civil liberties, then indeed there is something desperately wrong.

By whom have these persons been set upon us? By persons whom we have trusted the most — by certain teachers in our public schools and institutions of higher learning, by certain writers, fattening upon the royalties paid by the American people while fostering class hatred and discontent, by some prattle-minded politicians, grabbing for votes with one hand while waving the flag of pseudo-liberalism with the other, and worst of all by some ministers of the gospel who have loudly proclaimed the Communist’s right to destroy America and its God-fearing way of life.

That word “liberalism” is something we should weigh carefully during these dark days that confront our nation. There is nothing more cowardly than a criminal; he works in the dark, he sneaks upon you in the shadows; he hides his gun under his coat until the moment when he would terrorize you. And he lives under an alias, pretending respectability while practicing the vilest of crimes. Is there not a strange connection between such persons and certain apostles of degenerate dictatorships who, hiding their hammers and sickles under the protection of our national emblem, advance upon us in sham cloaks of liberalism, pretending to be seeking social reforms and equality for all, while in reality plotting to trample beneath their blood-stained boots the very document which has been their greatest protection, our sacred Constitution of the United States!

In the vaunted peacefulness of our homeland, espousers of foreign hates have stalked at will. These sinister enemies of America seek to destroy the faith of our youth in democracy. They use easy promises to lure them into blind acceptance of the venal doctrines of gangster governments. “This is the new order,” they counsel. I challenge that contention. It is neither new nor does it bear any semblance to order. Right-thinking people recognize it as a barbaric throwback to the jungle law of kill and plunder and might makes right.

Only the subtlety of his argument cloaks the activities of this most treacherous of all enemy agents. He uses no secret codes. He does not carry a bomb with a sputtering fuse. His plots do not depend upon the cover of darkness. He expounds his harem-scarem panaceas from many forums — in the drawing rooms of the “parlor pinks” — on a soap box before the idle curious in our parks — on the lecture platforms in some of our schools — in groups of workers wearing the badge of duty in our great industrial centers.

This spokesman of foreign ideologies perverts the sacred liberties of democracy into license to plot their downfall. He is quick to claim the martyr’s crown when his exercise of these liberties is challenged. Any attempt by duly constituted law enforcement agencies at legal prosecution is attacked by him as unwarranted persecution. He makes political capital of adversity and a dupe of the innocent liberal who pleads his defense. No ruse is too vile to serve his heinous plots to undermine public confidence in law enforcement agencies.

What manner of man is this creature who stalks in our midst? He is the goose-stepping Bundsman and the godless and traitorous Communist. Each has his own vain-glorious master, but all serve a common objective. They seek to destroy democracy — the great citadel of those who believe in freedom of opportunity. They are the real saboteurs — the saboteurs of morale.

The antidote to their venom is an informed and alert public. Their slurs against our institutions and advocacy of foreign isms must not be accepted without challenge. These treacheries should be unmasked as the spawn of countries who regard their own people as vassals of the state.

We must awaken! We must again be young in mind, in heart and in our love and fealty to America. We must be interested in preserving the soul of America. We must make our nation again worthy to have the eagle as its emblem, not only of power, but of swiftness of action and of protective preparedness.

We must again become virile and strong. We must retrain ourselves to once more be the athletic nation, both in mind and body, which we believed ourselves to be. It can be done and it will be done.

Throughout America, youth is awakening — the young in mind and in heart — the young in hope, which should encompass all of us. Young America, such as you represent, is laying aside temporarily the cherished plans and hopes of careers to assume its place and responsibilities in the vibrant march of the great army of democracy. Your forefathers made such sacrifices to establish a nation where the God-given privileges of freedom could be enjoyed by all.

Now that freedom of not only our generation, but of future generations, is threatened. You will have no greater satisfaction than to dedicate your efforts to the continuation of the principles of Christianity and democracy. Youth must take America tight to its heart — and love America for its Americanism. There is no way to face but forward. There is no “ism” but that of patriotism. There is no course but that which pays homage to the Stars and Stripes, and those things this emblem stands for — not what the Communists, Nazis or Fascists of the world have attempted to smear it with in the last generation.

These foreign isms, views and theories are entirely alien to the spirit of America and to everything which America has held dear. They would have been utterly abhorrent to the founders of our Republic. They should be just as abhorrent to us. They would have been unanimously rejected by those who founded this country and who formed its institutions. They should be just as unanimously rejected by us. They are an ancient, alien, diabolical, cancerous growth, and they flourish in the dark, noisome swamps of medieval despotism. They cannot possibly live on this side of the water if the sun of American thought and feeling continues to shine, unclouded by the abhorrent fallacies of foreign viewpoints, forms of government, policies and hatreds.

Seeing that the godless forces of totalitarianism shall gain no further strength is the task of a generation of young men and women soon to establish the homes of future America. They, above all, must be kept unsullied from the inoculation of the deadly virus that kills spiritual development. In the homes which you graduates will establish, teach respect for God and His laws, and then respect for man and his law will inevitably follow. Take that which is divine out of the home and the school and you wreck the foundations upon which all order and all law, moral and human, rest.

And let us give to our honored nation what she so badly needs — that transfusion of which I have spoken before. Let us inject into her veins love of decency, power of right, courage, the vitality of patriotism, and the energy of unity upon which this, our beloved democracy, may feed and strengthen, that she may stand supreme, her pulse that of patriotism, and her every heart beat that of inspired Americanism! That is our duty and we must not fail in its fulfilment if our free and unfettered way of life is to continue its uninterrupted course under a Constitution created by free men. Let that eternal triad of our United States, forever be before us — love of God, love of liberty and love of country.

Posted in Education, Sewanee, Military | Leave a comment

Ishi and the Algorithm

In my Classical Reception class at Sewanee recently, I was teaching Beth Piatote’s Antíkoni, a brilliant Native American re-imagining of Sophocles’ Antigone which deals with the collections of human remains in institutions like the Smithsonian and the desire to see them repatriated. The political issues surrounding this matter are complex, and I was happy to have my colleague from Anthropology, Emily Sharp, come to class to teach us. Her experience with NAGPRA (the North American Grave Protection and Repatriation Act) was highly relevant to our conversation.

Antigone works well for this conversation about the proper treatment of bodies, of course, as it does for other political situations. As George Steiner writes in his book Antigones: How the Antigone Legend Has Endured in Western Literature, Art, and Thought, “The myth precipitates and purifies the agitated, opaque elements of the immediate situation.” While Pietatote is writing this play as a sort of palimpsest under which we can feel the Greek original (the characters names are Antikoni, Kreon, Haimon, Ismene, etc.), she has more freely innovated in other places. We see these innovations in the choruses especially, where instead of alluding to Danae, as Sophocles does, there are invocations of Native American figures like Coyote, Pissing Boy, and Grizzly Bear.

At one point, when Antikoni and Kreon are debating the role of museums in the preservation/ desecration of Native American culture, the figure of Ishi is invoked. I assumed that my students would not know about Ishi (as indeed I did not), who was the sole survivor of the destruction of his native Yahi people. Apprehended in 1911, he ended up living in the University of California anthropological museum, where he was a janitor and “living exhibit,” until his death in 1916. It’s a bracing story that has been subject of much powerful consideration in recent years. To situate students, I made the following slide:

My text here is modified from what is found on the Hearst Museum’s website. The image, which shows Ishi in Western-style clothing and seated in a chair looking at the camera, was likewise taken from the Hearst.

So, as I say this slide was in my slideshow, but when I was reviewing for class, a notice from Google popped up asking if I wanted to “Beautify this slide.” This appears to be a new feature, so I thought, well, OK, and hit the button. Here’s what came up:

I was sort of stunned by this. The text is the same (and perhaps more easily presented, I’ll grant), but I was dumbfounded by the background imagery of Indian basketry and arrows. Even more astounding was the central image which shows Ishi NOT as depicted in the contemporary photo (seated, clothed, looking at the viewer) but instead standing, shirtless, and being looked at.

After debating it for a while with myself, I decided to bring this image into class to get the students’ reaction, which largely mirrored my own. As we discussed, the slide was created by Google’s AI, which is culling from a vast amount of data. So, really, what was being produced here was the distillation of the written and visual record about Native Americans available in the LLM.

As luck would have it, there is a really great exhibit up right now about this very topic called “(The) Victors Write the Algorithm” at the Birmingham Civil Rights Institute, which I visited this week. While this exhibit deals with harmful stereotypes about African-Americans, the point of the exihibit might just as easily applied to depictions of Native American culture: From propaganda and biased news coverage, to the digital platforms and algorithms that determine what we see and share, we should examine how narratives are constructed and disseminated as “truth”.

The difference between the imagery on the “beautifed” slide of Ishi versus what I had originally is easy enough to make out, and helps to surface the issues of racism and representation encoded therein. But I wonder how many other AI-generated images and texts contain less immediately discernible offensive elements? I happened to be able to see this example clearly but there are without doubt many others to which I am simply blind.

Posted in AI, Classics, Drama, Education, Race, The South | 2 Comments

Concerning the statue of Sir John Templeton

It is not a particularly unique opinion to think poorly of the statue of Sir John Templeton at the Templeton Library at the far edge of Sewanee, Tennessee. Atlas Obscura calls it “eerily lifelike.” I suspect you could find people who would call it weird, creepy, or bizarre– opinions I myself hold, although, in recent years, I’ve (sort of) revised my opinion. The fact that classical statues were polychrome, originally difficult to accept, has grown more familiar with each passing year, and the informative on-line exhibition, The Gods in Color, has made it easier to see how the ancients intended their sculpture to look.

In addition, the fully-painted statuary of Elizabethan times has to be kept in mind as we reflect on how much of an Anglophile Templeton was. It strikes us as wrong now that Shakespeare’s colored funerary statue in Avon, for instance, “was painted entirely white in 1793” to look more “classical” to the 18th century eye.

Bust of Shakespeare, Holy Trinity Church, Stratford-upon-Avon, Public domain image from Wikimedia

Templeton himself paid for a goodly amount of the restoration of Henry VII’s Lady Chapel at Westminster Abbey, which would have included the painted effigy of Elizabeth I inside it. The stuning west window of the chapel duly bears his name as benefactor. One appreciates the philanthropy behind the preservation, of course, although I have opined before about Sir John and the tax savings he enjoyed as a result of his renunciation of US citizenship.

Anyway, it only recently occurred to me to ask, Who made this statue? As it happens, the answer was easily found.

After a little Googling, I found Hugh Russel’s website and wrote him a carefully-worded email to see if I could find out more. His delightful reply came back about an hour later (Nov 22, 2025):

Dear Christopher,

When Sir John called me at 7:30 am to commission this sculpture, he awoke me from a deep sleep. In my delirium I agreed with everything he asked. He did not agree to the  toupeeI suggested. I thought it would look so natural. HAD I REALISED, THAT HE WASN’T KIDDING I TRIED TO BACK OUT OF THE COLOUR. He wouldn’t budge. The architect asked him to rethink the colour, and his son also pleaded with him to reconsider, but he was adamant, it had to be in colour (color). I had hoped that in time the paint would fade and a natural patina would emerge. I have no idea if that has happened yet. I am an old man now, and the thought of revisiting this commission does not interest me in the slightest.

I wanted to do something more expressive, something with a sense of drama and emotion. He wanted what he got, and truthfully I was not happy with it at all. It comes up every so often when I recall some of the silly, embarrassing and tragically funny things I’ve done.

If there is someone down there who wants to sand blast the colour from the surface and let nature take its course, then more power to him. If someone decides to blow it up, remind him that Sir John had nothing to do with anything that might cause the nation any ahamed (sic).  He just made a lot of money and wanted to show off. I have no problem with that.

I smile in your general direction.

Sincerely,

The writer Hugh Russel , formerly known as the sculptor Hugh Russel

Russel, who lives in Ontario, still sculpts. Another 1990s’ piece called by “The Column of Brotherhood” was commissioned by the Sikh Community of Canada and is in the Vatican, while his limited edition bronzework is available online on the Silver Creek Calcedon website. But mostly Russel is an author of espionage novels these days, as well of memorable replies to email inquiries.

Posted in Classics, England, Sewanee, Statues & Monuments, Tennessee, The South | Leave a comment

You Can’t Padlock an Idea

“You can padlock a building,” Myles Horton said of the closing of the Highlander Folk School in 1959. “But you can’t padlock an idea. Highlander is an idea. You can’t kill it and you can’t close it. … It will grow wherever people take it.” (Frank Adams and Myles Horton, Unearthing Seeds of Fire [1975] p. 133, as cited here).

https://wisconsinhistory.org/Records/Image/IM52898

Myles Horton watching as the local sheriff puts a padlock on Highlander Folk School, following a trial in which Highlander was accused of propagating Communism.

And below, remarkably, is a copy of the receipt for the padlocks from Flury’s Store in Tracy City, sent to me by a friend today (Dec 1, 2024).

Posted in Books, Education, Race, Tennessee, The South, Time | 1 Comment

Ely Green on Archibald Butt

Major Archibald Butt, whom I have mentioned a few times before on this blog– here and here— was a famous son of Sewanee, and so it is no surprise that he should be mentioned by another famous son, Ely Green, in his memoir, the long version of which is called Too Black, Too White, and a shorter Sewanee-focused version called Ely: An Autobiography (accessible on internet archive at this link). I have copied the selections where Butt is mentioned below.

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The Mall (an exercise in dactylic hexameter)

To introduce my students to dactyls (-uu), I showed them a pair of famous examples in tetrameter:

All the kings’ horses and all the king’s men

Couldn’t put Humpty together again.

Picture yourself in a boat on a river with
tangerine trees and marmalade skies
Somebody calls you, you answer quite slowly, a
Girl with kaleidoscope eyes.

(Well, Lucy in Sky ends with a trimester, but you see the point).

Then, to show them the true classical hexameter, a few lines of (what else?) Longfellow’s Evangeline:

This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks,
Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight

It’s nice to see the substitution of the long for the two shorts before the caesura there.

But it occurred to me that maybe I could write a stanza of my own, so here it goes. It’s entitled “The Mall”:

Sometimes on weekends it’s boring, and people prefer to go shopping. 

Off to the mall they will trudge then, searching for all kinds of items–

shirts at American Eagle, or stuff from the Build-a-Bear Workshop. 

“Try on some Vans at Foot Locker?” Your friend might ask you and then say, 

“Man, Abercrombie’s expensive. Let’s just go hang at the food court.” 

Slices of pizza from Sbarro, a grande iced latte from Starbucks,

Maybe bump into some others, looking for something to do now.

This is the way of the suburbs, the empty allure of the knick-knacks, 

Capitalism’s repair for the alienation it causes.

Posted in Music, Poetry, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

What the heck is this rock? Slag

It’s been icy, snowy, rainy, and all kinds of wet around Sewanee lately, so unsurprisingly, the ground has disgorged a number of unusual items, one of which I came across as I was walking the dogs the other day.

Google was no help– what search terms does one use? “Weird looking stone”? So I wrote my friend Bran Potter, Emeritus Professor of Geology here in Sewanee. His reply below:

    “I think the rock, with those lava-like folds along the surface and the large number of pores, is a piece of slag from the old ironworks in Cowan. If you drive past the Fiesta Grill on that side street and continue towards the limestone quarry, you cross a stream. A walk along the stream  will reveal that the steep slope in the woods is made of many tons of this once – molten waste rock. Sometimes the texture is like coarse glass with holes. Our kids used to scour the field above the woods for artifacts – there were some amazing finds in that area – but sadly they no longer plow the field.       

In the days when the dirt roads of Sewanee often turned into quagmires in the rain, wagon loads of slag were brought up the mountain to spread out on our streets. The slag is reasonably widespread on the Domain but typical pieces are smaller than the one you found. A lot of the slag looks like volcanic cinders.”

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Thinking about Place

  • Landscape & Memory
    • Myths
    • History
  • Forgotten Places
    • Abandoned Places
    • Sick Places
    • Ruins
    • Flooded—TVA (Tellico, Tims Ford)
    • Archaelogy
    • Liminal places
  • Private Property
    • Real Estate
    • “Value”
    • Domain
    • Leasehold
    • Lease Committee
  • Built Environment
    • Architecture
    • Sports areas
    • Parks
    • Memorials
    • Memorial benches
    •  
  • Geography
    • Abstraction
    • Mapping
    • Surveying
    • GPS
  • Environment
    • Geology
    • Trees
    • Patterns of Migration
  • Sacred Spaces
    • Church
    • Labyrinth
    • Cave
    • Grove
    • Springs
    • Genius loci
    • American Gods
  • Secret Places
    • Romantic spots
    • Hideaway
  • Displacement
    • Trail of Tear
    • Leaving Home
    • Alienation
    • Entfremdungsgefühl
    • Resident alien
    • Passing through
    • Highway Exits
    • Ungrounded
    • Loneliness
    • Strangers
  • Home
    • Prodigal Son
    • Nostalgia
    • Odysseus
    • Grounded
    • Childhood
    • Community
  • Authenticity
    • Ersatz
    • Levitton
    • Ticky-tacky
    • Development
    • Suburbs
    • Gas consumption
  • Foreign Place
    • Travel
    • Wanderlust
    • Exile
    • Pilgrimage
    • Migration
  • Lines of Communication
    • Phone Lines
    • Roads
    • Railroad
  • Beyond Seeing
    • Local music
    • Sounds of a place
    • Birdsong
    • Smells
    • Flowers
    • Country air
    • Sewanee fog
    • Local food
    • Sea air
    • Crash of waves
    • Sound of insects, esp. at night (thrumming)
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RIP Stanley Crouch

Stanley Crouch came to speak at Sewanee in the mid-2000s as part of the “How Then Shall We Live?” series. Below is the author picture he sent. When I picked him up at the Nashville airport, he emerged from the terminal with his suitcase– we shook hands and he told me, in that unique gravelly voice of his, “You should know that I have a profound antipathy for everything having to do with the Confederacy.” Okay, I thought, this ought to be an interesting visit.

On the drive to Sewanee, we got into a long and lively discussion about Dante, but at one point I noticed he was squirming in his seat. “I think I’ll pull over at the next rest area,” I said, to which he replied, “NOW.” Pull over, uh, right here? “HERE.” He hopped out the car by the side of the highway and relieved himself. “Sorry about that.” Then it was back to Dante.

I dropped him off at Rebel’s Rest, the university guest house. “Rebel’s Rest. Huh.” Over the next 24 hours I spent a lot of time with Stanley. We met for coffee on the porch of Rebel’s Rest the next morning– the wisteria was in full bloom still. “I don’t want to like this place,” he said, meaning Rebel’s Rest. “I do like this porch, though.” Many in Sewanee remember him opening his talk with a reference to it. “The more rebels resting, the better.” It brought the house down. He started off reading from a chapter about Davy Crockett and then– I’ve never seen a speaker do this before–stopped. “This isn’t any good. Hey, let’s take questions.” People loved it, as he opined freely and fearlessly about anything and everything.

Before he left, Stanley autographed a book for me with a very kind inscription, ending with his characteristic VIA. “Victory is Assured.”

eCROUCHstanley-author-picture.jpg
Posted in Books, Cemeteries & Funerals, Education, Italy, Poetry, Race, Sewanee, Tennessee, The South | Leave a comment

Song to the Seals

Every so often you come across a charming thing quite unintentionally on the internet, and this morning’s entry for me is the great Irish tenor John McCormack singing “Song to the Seals” from 1935.

 

 

A sea maid sings on yonder reef
The spell bound seals draw near
A lilt that lures beyond belief
Mortals enchanted hear

Coir an oir an oir an oir o
Coir an oir an oir an eer o
Coir an oir an oir an ee lalyuran
Coir an oir an oir an eer o

The wandering ploughman halts his plough
The maid her milking stays
And sheep on hillside, bird on bough
Pause and listen in amaze

Was it a dream? Were all asleep?
Or did she cease her lay?
For the seals with a splash dive into the deep
And the world goes on again
Yet lingers the refrain

source: https://www.lyricsondemand.com/u/unknownlyrics/songofthesealslyrics.html

 

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