newyorker--2020-09-20--Two Hundred Thousand Americans Are Dead from the Coronavirus

At some point in 1993 , the two-hundred-thousandth American died of AIDS .
By that time , a decade had passed since the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention first described the emergence of a mysterious new syndrome .
Freddie Mercury and Arthur Ashe had died of the virus , and Magic Johnson had announced his retirement from the N.B.A .
Tom Hanks was soon to win an Oscar for his role as an H.I.V.-positive gay man , in “ Philadelphia.
” Still , the tragic milestone passed without much notice .
H.I.V .
had become the leading cause of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ researchers and activists were still fighting to raise awareness about the virus , and acceptance for the people who were suffering from it .
Two years earlier , the hundred-thousandth American had died of AIDS .
That death was announced in a short article on page eighteen of the Times , which dispassionately reviewed statistics and projections .
The novel coronavirus is about to claim its two-hundred-thousandth American life .
( It may already have done so ; statistics lag . )
Less than eight months have passed since the start of the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ time to make a movie about it , and there ’ s been no need to raise awareness ; the toll of the virus is tracked daily , even hourly , across the country and across the world .
But that doesn ’ t make the extraordinary loss of life any easier to fathom .
In less than a year , COVID-19 has killed four times as many Americans as died from the opioid crisis during its deadliest year .
It has killed more Americans than those who perished in every armed conflict @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Globally , it has killed nearly a million people .
Reckoning with such a number , we might try to imagine the dead as individuals .
Though the virus is worse for those who are older , people of all ages have died , and of all races , backgrounds , trades , and political persuasions .
Each life lost was embedded in a web of relations .
According to one estimate , each person who dies of COVID-19 leaves behind an average of nine surviving family members .
If this is right @ @ @ @ @ @ @ 1.8 million Americans mourning the loss of kin—parents , husbands , wives , children , siblings , grandparents—and millions more who are mourning with them .
Meanwhile , as a doctor , when I think of two hundred thousand lost lives , I think of the ones I wasn ’ t able to save while caring for patients in the early days of the outbreak in New York .
I think of the couples transferred hand in hand to the hospice unit ; of a parent comforting young children through FaceTime ; of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ventilator that might be needed by someone younger .
Moments of national tragedy are usually met with elevating Presidential rhetoric .
The country looks to its leaders to offer hope and give meaning to its collective suffering .
Three days after the September 11th attacks , in a speech at Ground Zero , George W. Bush told the nation , “ I can hear you .
The rest of the world hears you .
And the people who knocked these buildings down will hear all of us soon.
” Later , at a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ grief and tragedy and hatred are only for a time .
But goodness , remembrance , and love have no end.
” After President John F. Kennedy ’ s assassination , Lyndon B. Johnson called on the country to “ put an end to the teaching and the preaching of hate and evil and violence ” ; he urged Americans to turn away from “ the apostles of bitterness and bigotry.
” No such messages will be coming from this President .
Donald Trump has abdicated both managerial and moral leadership .
( @ @ @ @ @ @ @ at all , ” he has said , and , “ It is what it is.
” ) Instead of helping the nation heal , he uses his bully pulpit to sow confusion , division , and distrust .
He freely admits to misleading the public about the lethality of the virus ; he disrupts the efforts of public-health agencies , tarring them with his own brand of partisanship and misinformation ; he argues that talk of the virus is designed to damage his reëlection prospects .
Meanwhile , his surrogates describe the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ more Americans each day , in the past tense .
There are those , including the President , who question the veracity of the U.S. coronavirus death estimates .
That skepticism doesn ’ t cohere with reality .
Across the United States , excess mortality—the difference in the total number of deaths , from any cause , compared with a historical average—far exceeds official tallies of COVID-19 fatalities .
In all likelihood , there are more , not fewer , COVID-19 deaths than we have confirmed .
And the pandemic , in addition @ @ @ @ @ @ @ enormous collateral health damage .
Thousands of Americans have had their medical care postponed or cancelled , or have chosen to avoid health care altogether for fear of contracting the virus .
Many have died .
In the United States , peaks of panic have given way to plateaus of resignation .
The country continues to record tens of thousands of new coronavirus cases each day but remains without a coherent plan to alter that trajectory .
Because we never truly subdued the virus , we ’ re experiencing our newest waves on @ @ @ @ @ @ @ strict lockdowns , the number of newly diagnosed cases levelled off at around twenty thousand per day .
But September ’ s number is closer to forty thousand .
We ’ re performing more tests , and that helps explain the higher number of new confirmed cases .
But it ’ s also true that the virus is circulating in more places than before .
Early in the pandemic , it became clear that a coherent and unified national response would not be coming .
States were left to procure supplies and equipment @ @ @ @ @ @ @ waded through mixed messages about how contagious and lethal the virus was—and about how they might keep themselves and their loved ones safe .
At the end of February , Jerome Adams , the Surgeon General , tweeted that masks are “ NOT effective in preventing general public from catching # Coronavirus , ” and Robert Redfield , the director of the C.D.C.
, said that there was “ no role ” in the pandemic for masks worn by ordinary Americans .
Those messages may have been intended to preserve mask supplies for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the public ’ s trust in the information that was being provided by the country ’ s top health officials .
It wasn ’ t until early April—after New York had logged tens of thousands of cases , and after the virus had seeded every state in the country—that the C.D.C .
advised the public to begin wearing masks .
( Redfield has since said that “ cloth face coverings are one of the most powerful weapons we have to slow and stop the spread of the virus.
” ) It ’ s @ @ @ @ @ @ @ But the story of the American pandemic is really that of a virus bobbing across the country , searching for oxygen as it ’ s tamped down in one region or another .
A pandemic that began in dense metropolitan areas has now made its way to every part of the United States .
In the Northeast , states that once stored dead bodies in refrigerated trucks are now among the safest in the country .
Other states , including California and Ohio , took early and decisive action but have seen cases @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the beginning of June , new COVID-19 hot spots were more likely to be rural counties than urban ones .
By then , the virus had crept into small towns and ski resorts , the Navajo Nation and the rural South , and into prisons , retirement communities , and meatpacking plants , leaving a trail of destruction in its wake .

At some point in 1993, the two-hundred-thousandth American died of AIDS. By that time, a decade had passed since the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention first described the emergence of a mysterious new syndrome. Freddie Mercury and Arthur Ashe had died of the virus, and Magic Johnson had announced his retirement from the N.B.A. Tom Hanks was soon to win an Oscar for his role as an H.I.V.-positive gay man, in “Philadelphia.” Still, the tragic milestone passed without much notice. H.I.V. had become the leading cause of death among young American men, but researchers and activists were still fighting to raise awareness about the virus, and acceptance for the people who were suffering from it. Two years earlier, the hundred-thousandth American had died of AIDS. That death was announced in a short article on page eighteen of the Times, which dispassionately reviewed statistics and projections.
The novel coronavirus is about to claim its two-hundred-thousandth American life. (It may already have done so; statistics lag.) Less than eight months have passed since the start of the pandemic. There hasn’t been time to make a movie about it, and there’s been no need to raise awareness; the toll of the virus is tracked daily, even hourly, across the country and across the world. But that doesn’t make the extraordinary loss of life any easier to fathom. In less than a year, COVID-19 has killed four times as many Americans as died from the opioid crisis during its deadliest year. It has killed more Americans than those who perished in every armed conflict combined since the Second World War. Globally, it has killed nearly a million people.
Reckoning with such a number, we might try to imagine the dead as individuals. Though the virus is worse for those who are older, people of all ages have died, and of all races, backgrounds, trades, and political persuasions. Each life lost was embedded in a web of relations. According to one estimate, each person who dies of COVID-19 leaves behind an average of nine surviving family members. If this is right, then there are now at least 1.8 million Americans mourning the loss of kin—parents, husbands, wives, children, siblings, grandparents—and millions more who are mourning with them. Meanwhile, as a doctor, when I think of two hundred thousand lost lives, I think of the ones I wasn’t able to save while caring for patients in the early days of the outbreak in New York. I think of the couples transferred hand in hand to the hospice unit; of a parent comforting young children through FaceTime; of an elderly man worrying about using a ventilator that might be needed by someone younger.
Moments of national tragedy are usually met with elevating Presidential rhetoric. The country looks to its leaders to offer hope and give meaning to its collective suffering. Three days after the September 11th attacks, in a speech at Ground Zero, George W. Bush told the nation, “I can hear you. The rest of the world hears you. And the people who knocked these buildings down will hear all of us soon.” Later, at a prayer service, Bush said that “grief and tragedy and hatred are only for a time. But goodness, remembrance, and love have no end.” After President John F. Kennedy’s assassination, Lyndon B. Johnson called on the country to “put an end to the teaching and the preaching of hate and evil and violence”; he urged Americans to turn away from “the apostles of bitterness and bigotry.”
No such messages will be coming from this President. Donald Trump has abdicated both managerial and moral leadership. (“I don’t take responsibility at all,” he has said, and, “It is what it is.”) Instead of helping the nation heal, he uses his bully pulpit to sow confusion, division, and distrust. He freely admits to misleading the public about the lethality of the virus; he disrupts the efforts of public-health agencies, tarring them with his own brand of partisanship and misinformation; he argues that talk of the virus is designed to damage his reëlection prospects. Meanwhile, his surrogates describe the pandemic, which sickens or kills thousands more Americans each day, in the past tense.
There are those, including the President, who question the veracity of the U.S. coronavirus death estimates. That skepticism doesn’t cohere with reality. Across the United States, excess mortality—the difference in the total number of deaths, from any cause, compared with a historical average—far exceeds official tallies of COVID-19 fatalities. In all likelihood, there are more, not fewer, COVID-19 deaths than we have confirmed. And the pandemic, in addition to devastating the economy, has caused enormous collateral health damage. Thousands of Americans have had their medical care postponed or cancelled, or have chosen to avoid health care altogether for fear of contracting the virus. Many have died.
In the United States, peaks of panic have given way to plateaus of resignation. The country continues to record tens of thousands of new coronavirus cases each day but remains without a coherent plan to alter that trajectory. Because we never truly subdued the virus, we’re experiencing our newest waves on rising seas. In May, after strict lockdowns, the number of newly diagnosed cases levelled off at around twenty thousand per day. But September’s number is closer to forty thousand. We’re performing more tests, and that helps explain the higher number of new confirmed cases. But it’s also true that the virus is circulating in more places than before.
Early in the pandemic, it became clear that a coherent and unified national response would not be coming. States were left to procure supplies and equipment on their own. Individuals and families waded through mixed messages about how contagious and lethal the virus was—and about how they might keep themselves and their loved ones safe. At the end of February, Jerome Adams, the Surgeon General, tweeted that masks are “NOT effective in preventing general public from catching #Coronavirus,” and Robert Redfield, the director of the C.D.C., said that there was “no role” in the pandemic for masks worn by ordinary Americans. Those messages may have been intended to preserve mask supplies for health-care workers, but they seriously damaged the public’s trust in the information that was being provided by the country’s top health officials. It wasn’t until early April—after New York had logged tens of thousands of cases, and after the virus had seeded every state in the country—that the C.D.C. advised the public to begin wearing masks. (Redfield has since said that “cloth face coverings are one of the most powerful weapons we have to slow and stop the spread of the virus.”)
It’s easy to focus on national numbers. But the story of the American pandemic is really that of a virus bobbing across the country, searching for oxygen as it’s tamped down in one region or another. A pandemic that began in dense metropolitan areas has now made its way to every part of the United States. In the Northeast, states that once stored dead bodies in refrigerated trucks are now among the safest in the country. Other states, including California and Ohio, took early and decisive action but have seen cases and deaths rise over time. At the beginning of June, new COVID-19 hot spots were more likely to be rural counties than urban ones. By then, the virus had crept into small towns and ski resorts, the Navajo Nation and the rural South, and into prisons, retirement communities, and meatpacking plants, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake.
By staying home and flattening the curve, Americans succeeded in buying time for many health-care systems to adjust. The likelihood of dying of COVID-19 has declined substantially since the pandemic began, in large part because we’ve gotten better at preparing for and treating the disease. A statistic called the case-fatality rate (C.F.R.) measures the percentage of people who go on to die after being diagnosed with a disease. States where the pandemic hit early—New York, New Jersey, Massachusetts—ended up with C.F.R.s above seven per cent; the national average is now about three per cent, thanks to lower death rates in states where the virus spread later. In recent months, therefore, the apocalyptic elements of the pandemic have receded from view. There are fewer places where endless streams of patients confront dwindling I.C.U. capacity; there are fewer bidding wars for ventilators and N95s. We’ve settled, instead, into a grinding battle, in which lives are lost incrementally but no less tragically. Six thousand dead in Georgia; two thousand in Minnesota; fifteen hundred in Nevada. It’s these small yet significant numbers, adding up month after month, that have gotten us to two hundred thousand.
The coronavirus has assailed America’s image of itself. How does one reconcile the deaths of two hundred thousand people—a fifth of all the COVID-19 deaths in the world—with the idea of an exceptional America, a compassionate America, a scientifically advanced America? The most piercing question has come to be whether we live in a just America. Inequalities in income, housing, employment, and medical care have resulted in Black and brown Americans dying of COVID-19 at higher rates than whites. The pandemic has especially hurt low-income Americans, many of whom are now out of work, but Congress remains locked in a stalemate over whether and how to deliver relief. Meanwhile, in some states, more than half of all COVID-19 deaths are linked to nursing homes, where many older Americans have died without being able to say goodbye to their loved ones. We tolerate these deaths because of a communal ageism. Our inability to protect the most vulnerable Americans has become both a public-health failure and a moral stain.
The U.S. holds the unhappy distinction of suffering the most coronavirus deaths in the world. Still, adjusted for population, it ranks ninth among countries with significant numbers of cases, landing between the United Kingdom and Italy—bad, but not the worst. The case-fatality rate in America as a whole—three per cent—is also substantially lower than in many other developed countries: the C.F.R. is fifteen in the U.K., and fourteen in Italy. C.F.R. is not a perfect statistic: it’s calculated using the number of confirmed cases, not total infections, and so it fluctuates depending on how much testing is done among different populations. (If you test mostly older, hospitalized patients, as the U.S. did at the start of the pandemic, then the C.F.R. will appear higher, because a relatively high proportion of them will go on to die.) One way to understand America’s lower C.F.R., therefore, is to look at its demography. Age remains the most important factor for predicting how deadly the coronavirus pandemic will be: Americans over the age of sixty-five account for nearly eighty per cent of the country’s COVID-19 deaths. Across the world, a country’s case-fatality rate is highly correlated with the age of its population. In Uganda, where the median age is sixteen, the C.F.R. is one per cent. The median age is forty-six in Italy, and is forty in the U.K. We might conclude that the U.S. is lucky to be a relatively young nation, with a median age of thirty-eight. (On the other hand, Japan—one of the world’s oldest countries, with a median age of forty-eight—has mounted an exemplary response to the pandemic and has a C.F.R. of only two per cent.)
The excess death toll is less likely to be skewed by confounding variables. It seems to be similar in the United States and Europe, once it’s been adjusted for size. There’s no question that the U.S. squandered valuable time early in the pandemic, and it’s clear that the country has since failed to develop the infrastructure necessary to effectively control the virus. But European countries, such as France and Spain, have also struggled, and are now seeing resurgent coronavirus cases and hospitalizations. The U.S. also isn’t the only country that’s been unable to protect its most vulnerable citizens. A high proportion of the COVID-19 deaths in Canada and Sweden have happened in nursing homes. In the U.K., Black people also die of COVID-19 at much higher rates than whites, even though its nationalized health system generally does a better job than ours at reducing inequities in access to medical care. As bad as Trump has been on masks, citizens of other Western democracies resist wearing them, too.
As troubling as our pandemic response has been, the largest gap may not be between our performance and that of other countries but between our pre-pandemic understanding of America and what we now see revealed. The United States spends more on scientific research than any other nation and, as recently as 2019, was ranked the world’s most prepared to handle a pandemic—and yet our response has been strictly mediocre, and unusually fractious, politicized, and confused. How much of America’s struggle is due to bungled leadership—Trump’s distraction and disinformation, governors who’ve been slow to embrace masks or restrict gatherings—and how much is the result of long-standing features of our political and public-health systems? Answering that question is more than an academic or partisan exercise, and it behooves us to answer it honestly; what we find will have implications for identifying what’s broken and figuring out how to fix it. In the meantime, a recent survey of people in thirteen high-income countries found that confidence in America has plummeted during the pandemic: it’s now as low as it’s been at any point in recent history.
It’s not all bad. Our doctors, scientists, and pharmaceutical companies have been world-class. Many American hospitals rapidly and dramatically transformed to accommodate the deluge of critically ill COVID-19 patients; many doctors found ways to provide care through telemedicine. Meanwhile, in less than a year, researchers have discovered an extraordinary amount about the biology, transmission, and treatment of a never-before-seen virus. Vaccine development is proceeding at unprecedented speed, aided by cutting-edge advances in biotechnology; enormous investments in clinical trials mean that dozens of drugs may soon be available to reduce the spread and deadliness of the virus. Much of this work builds on decades of biomedical research, a lot of which has been publicly funded. If the coronavirus had emerged just twenty or thirty years ago, we would have far less reason to be hopeful about better treatments or a cure. Now, even though our efforts to contain the virus have stumbled, researchers stand a good chance of helping ourselves and the world.
Step by step, we have developed a nuanced picture of how the virus spreads. In the beginning of the pandemic, we worried a lot about contaminated surfaces; now we know that they aren’t a major driver of transmission. (Wash your hands and avoid touching your face; but there’s probably no need to scrub your mail.) We understand that the virus travels primarily through respiratory droplets exhaled by infected people and through microscopic secretions known as aerosols. Droplets, which are relatively large, quickly fall to the floor, but aerosols can float in the air for minutes or hours, making poorly ventilated indoor spaces, such as movie theatres and campaign rallies, especially risky. It took time, and the collaborative efforts of scientists around the world, to come to grips with the aerosol threat. The World Health Organization maintained that aerosol spread was worrisome mainly during medical procedures, until July, when two hundred and thirty-nine scientists signed an open letter urging it to revise its assessment. At that point, the W.H.O. released a statement acknowledging that aerosol-based transmission in restaurants, gyms, and other crowded spaces “cannot be ruled out.” Many reopening plans were revised accordingly—favoring the outdoors over the indoors, and urging the opening of windows and the upgrading of ventilation systems when indoor activity was unavoidable.
Early in the pandemic, we didn’t fully grasp the challenges posed by asymptomatic transmission. We now know that people can start “shedding” the virus several days before they develop symptoms; in fact, viral loads seem to peak just when symptoms are starting to appear. A recent study, not yet peer-reviewed, found that three-quarters of coronavirus transmissions occur in the two to three days before or after people develop symptoms. Because asymptomatic carriers, who may account for as many as forty per cent of infections, can also transmit the virus, it’s clear that curtailing the spread requires everyone’s participation—even the participation of those who don’t think they are sick. (That recognition is one reason that recent C.D.C. guidance that asymptomatic people should not be tested was met with widespread criticism by scientists. The C.D.C. has since reversed its recommendation.)


newyorker--2020-09-20--Watching “Watchmen” as a Descendant of the Tulsa Race Massacre

Last October , when Marilyn Christopher sat down in her Manhattan apartment to watch the première of “ Watchmen , ” she was seeking an escape .
A science-fiction fanatic , she had spent a lifetime devouring Robert Heinlein novels and seeing “ Star Wars ” and “ The Matrix ” in theatres multiple times .
She enjoyed the 2009 film adaptation of Alan Moore ’ s iconic graphic novel , so the HBO series seemed like a safe bet for an entertaining Sunday night .
For Marilyn , the right sci-fi yarn was a ticket to an unknown new @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in New York could be briefly forgotten .
But as the opening scene of the series depicted a small boy sitting in a movie theatre , while his weeping mother banged discordant keys on a piano , Marilyn felt herself crash-landing back in reality .
“ That ’ s Tulsa , ” she recalled thinking .
“ That could be my grandfather .
That ’ s the Tulsa race riot !
” Marilyn watched as the little boy and his parents attempted a frantic escape from Greenwood , the prosperous neighborhood known as @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Race Massacre , in 1921 .
On her TV , bullets cracked the air , bombs fell from airplanes , fires enveloped buildings .
Tulsa had never been brought to life with such gruesome glamour .
To Marilyn ’ s eye , the boy appeared to be a stand-in for the grandfather she ’ d grown up calling Daddo .
He was a massacre survivor whose mother , Loula , had owned a theatre in Greenwood and whose father , John , had owned an auto-repair shop .
Daddo ’ s given name @ @ @ @ @ @ @ boy goes by Will Williams , though he changes his last name to Reeves after the attack on his home .
As the family on TV fled for their lives , Marilyn ’ s real-life family business flashed across the screen : the Williams Dreamland Theatre .
Williams Auto Repair made a cameo , too .
Even some of the sequence ’ s smallest details , like a brief shot of a white man brandishing a stolen leopard coat , appeared to be taken from oral histories that had travelled from Daddo ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ culture .
It was all a little too real for Marilyn .
She turned the show off after the opening spectacle and has had little motivation to revisit it since .
“ Once I saw dead Black bodies , I said , ‘ I don ’ t want to watch this , ’ ” she told me .
“ I know that I should appreciate this , but I guess I didn ’ t. ” On Sunday evening , “ Watchmen ” will vie for twenty-six Emmy Awards , as the most-nominated television @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the widespread praise for the show is the righteousness of its mission , in bringing a long-buried story of racial terrorism to a wide American audience .
Other shows , such as HBO ’ s more recent hit “ Lovecraft Country , ” have also woven the nation ’ s hidden history of racial violence into tales that veer into sci-fi , fantasy , or horror .
Authors who were the forebears of this style of storytelling are receiving unprecedented mainstream attention this year—the writer Octavia Butler , who wrote novels that married @ @ @ @ @ @ @ on race , entered the Times best-seller list for the first time , this month , fourteen years after her death .
Black history is becoming big business .
For people who have lived with the weight of these stories for generations , though , it is a different thing to watch ancestors you knew and admired seep into the public consciousness as silhouettes of their actual selves .
“ Our legacy—I don ’ t think it ’ s perceived as something that ’ s ours , ” Marilyn told me .
“ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to share and illuminate this point of time in history , that can be taken advantage of , if you ’ re not careful.
” For Marilyn , the oldest of five siblings , the Williams Dreamland Theatre has been a presence in her life since she was growing up in North Tulsa .
She recalls doing chores at her grandfather Daddo ’ s house and seeing a small oval paperweight perched on the living-room credenza , showing the two-story brick building owned by her great-grandmother .
“ The Only Colored Theatre in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Daddo would tell her not to touch the paperweight when he saw her inspecting it .
Even as an eight-year-old , she knew that it was a precious thing .
Her grandfather told her about how his mama had owned a majestic theatre , but he never went into detail .
It would be decades before Marilyn and her siblings learned the full scope of their great-grandmother ’ s accomplishments and heartaches .
Loula Williams , in fact , owned three movie theatres , launching two other Dreamlands in the nearby towns @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the theatre in Tulsa served as an entertainment hub—residents could gather there to watch vaudeville acts , boxing bouts , and the biggest silent films of the day .
Other times , it served as a community center , hosting events like the graduation ceremony for the neighborhood high school .
Occasionally , it was a strategic headquarters , where Greenwood leaders would coördinate plans to battle the legal encroachments of Jim Crow .
No other location in Greenwood served so many needs in so many contexts .
On June 1 , 1921 @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Loula operated were among the more than a thousand structures that were burned to the ground during the massacre .
W. D. Williams , or Daddo , was one of the thousands of black people hauled off to an internment camp .
The Williams family slept on the floor of a relative ’ s house for weeks , then lived in a tent on top of their burned-out property as winter approached .
Eventually , they rebuilt , but they went into steep debt attempting to reclaim the prosperity that was stolen from @ @ @ @ @ @ @ more than money that was lost .
She fell into a mental and physical decline after the attack and never recovered .
She died in 1927 , before she was fifty years old .
“ She was so devastated by losing all that , she just went into a state of depression and she just never came out , ” Jan Christopher , Marilyn ’ s younger sister , told me .
Daddo never conveyed the family history to the Christopher children all at once .
They picked it up in snippets of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of Greenwood memorabilia .
“ We didn ’ t sit around the dinner table talking about the Tulsa massacre of 1921 , ” Marilyn recalled .
“ Because who would ?
” When Daddo served as a primary source for Scott Ellsworth ’ s “ Death in a Promised Land , ” the first book-length treatment of the massacre , Marilyn ’ s mother , Anita Williams Christopher , bought all five siblings copies .
Jan took the book to college with her during her freshman year , as evidence she could show @ @ @ @ @ @ @ around her growing up .
Since W. D. Williams died in 1984 , his children and grandchildren have quietly continued the effort to preserve the family history .
But , because of their early spirit of generosity , their artifacts now serve as a kind of collective visual shorthand for both Greenwood ’ s wealth and its destruction .
Rare images of early Greenwood that the Williams family once possessed are now housed at the Smithsonian National Museum of African American History and Culture .
Photos of the Dreamland that W. D. Williams @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the Internet .
A photo of John , Loula , and W. D. in a 1911 Norwalk car appeared in a brief “ Watchmen ” montage , narrated by Henry Louis Gates , Jr. , describing Greenwood ’ s success .
Although descendants of the Williams family appreciate that “ Watchmen ” has brought the story of Greenwood to a wider audience , they ’ re also keenly aware that elements of their family ’ s history have played out onscreen without their involvement .
Marilyn didn ’ t feel that her story @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of the television character Will Reeves , as a police officer and later a costumed crusader in a planet-hopping save-the-universe plot , ultimately branches far away from Daddo ’ s .
Charles , the youngest Christopher sibling , saw the huge interest in the show as a promotional opportunity for other projects centered on the Dreamland .
For Jan , the fact that the show leverages the Williams family ’ s story through their buildings without making their relatives into fully developed characters showed an interest in telling “ their story in our @ @ @ @ @ @ @ place.
” “ Loula Williams should be a character in Black history , ” Jan told me .
“ They should probably go ahead and talk to us and actually incorporate her as a real figure instead of trying to get around it just by what they ’ re seeing on the Internet .
”

Last October, when Marilyn Christopher sat down in her Manhattan apartment to watch the première of “Watchmen,” she was seeking an escape. A science-fiction fanatic, she had spent a lifetime devouring Robert Heinlein novels and seeing “Star Wars” and “The Matrix” in theatres multiple times. She enjoyed the 2009 film adaptation of Alan Moore’s iconic graphic novel, so the HBO series seemed like a safe bet for an entertaining Sunday night. For Marilyn, the right sci-fi yarn was a ticket to an unknown new world, where the trials of living in New York could be briefly forgotten. But as the opening scene of the series depicted a small boy sitting in a movie theatre, while his weeping mother banged discordant keys on a piano, Marilyn felt herself crash-landing back in reality. “That’s Tulsa,” she recalled thinking. “That could be my grandfather. That’s the Tulsa race riot!”
Marilyn watched as the little boy and his parents attempted a frantic escape from Greenwood, the prosperous neighborhood known as Black Wall Street, during the Tulsa Race Massacre, in 1921. On her TV, bullets cracked the air, bombs fell from airplanes, fires enveloped buildings. Tulsa had never been brought to life with such gruesome glamour. To Marilyn’s eye, the boy appeared to be a stand-in for the grandfather she’d grown up calling Daddo. He was a massacre survivor whose mother, Loula, had owned a theatre in Greenwood and whose father, John, had owned an auto-repair shop. Daddo’s given name was William Danforth Williams—the “Watchmen” boy goes by Will Williams, though he changes his last name to Reeves after the attack on his home. As the family on TV fled for their lives, Marilyn’s real-life family business flashed across the screen: the Williams Dreamland Theatre. Williams Auto Repair made a cameo, too. Even some of the sequence’s smallest details, like a brief shot of a white man brandishing a stolen leopard coat, appeared to be taken from oral histories that had travelled from Daddo’s lips to academic books to popular culture.
It was all a little too real for Marilyn. She turned the show off after the opening spectacle and has had little motivation to revisit it since. “Once I saw dead Black bodies, I said, ‘I don’t want to watch this,’ ” she told me. “I know that I should appreciate this, but I guess I didn’t.”
On Sunday evening, “Watchmen” will vie for twenty-six Emmy Awards, as the most-nominated television show of the year. Implicit in the widespread praise for the show is the righteousness of its mission, in bringing a long-buried story of racial terrorism to a wide American audience. Other shows, such as HBO’s more recent hit “Lovecraft Country,” have also woven the nation’s hidden history of racial violence into tales that veer into sci-fi, fantasy, or horror. Authors who were the forebears of this style of storytelling are receiving unprecedented mainstream attention this year—the writer Octavia Butler, who wrote novels that married historical and science fiction, often centering on race, entered the Times best-seller list for the first time, this month, fourteen years after her death. Black history is becoming big business.
For people who have lived with the weight of these stories for generations, though, it is a different thing to watch ancestors you knew and admired seep into the public consciousness as silhouettes of their actual selves. “Our legacy—I don’t think it’s perceived as something that’s ours,” Marilyn told me. “If you have passion and a desire to share and illuminate this point of time in history, that can be taken advantage of, if you’re not careful.”
For Marilyn, the oldest of five siblings, the Williams Dreamland Theatre has been a presence in her life since she was growing up in North Tulsa. She recalls doing chores at her grandfather Daddo’s house and seeing a small oval paperweight perched on the living-room credenza, showing the two-story brick building owned by her great-grandmother. “The Only Colored Theatre in the City,” the ornament boasted. Daddo would tell her not to touch the paperweight when he saw her inspecting it. Even as an eight-year-old, she knew that it was a precious thing. Her grandfather told her about how his mama had owned a majestic theatre, but he never went into detail.
It would be decades before Marilyn and her siblings learned the full scope of their great-grandmother’s accomplishments and heartaches. Loula Williams, in fact, owned three movie theatres, launching two other Dreamlands in the nearby towns of Okmulgee and Muskogee. Sometimes, the theatre in Tulsa served as an entertainment hub—residents could gather there to watch vaudeville acts, boxing bouts, and the biggest silent films of the day. Other times, it served as a community center, hosting events like the graduation ceremony for the neighborhood high school. Occasionally, it was a strategic headquarters, where Greenwood leaders would coördinate plans to battle the legal encroachments of Jim Crow. No other location in Greenwood served so many needs in so many contexts.
On June 1, 1921, the Dreamland and a confectionery that Loula operated were among the more than a thousand structures that were burned to the ground during the massacre. W. D. Williams, or Daddo, was one of the thousands of black people hauled off to an internment camp. The Williams family slept on the floor of a relative’s house for weeks, then lived in a tent on top of their burned-out property as winter approached. Eventually, they rebuilt, but they went into steep debt attempting to reclaim the prosperity that was stolen from them. For Loula, it was more than money that was lost. She fell into a mental and physical decline after the attack and never recovered. She died in 1927, before she was fifty years old. “She was so devastated by losing all that, she just went into a state of depression and she just never came out,” Jan Christopher, Marilyn’s younger sister, told me.
Daddo never conveyed the family history to the Christopher children all at once. They picked it up in snippets of conversation and chance encounters with his collection of Greenwood memorabilia. “We didn’t sit around the dinner table talking about the Tulsa massacre of 1921,” Marilyn recalled. “Because who would?” When Daddo served as a primary source for Scott Ellsworth’s “Death in a Promised Land,” the first book-length treatment of the massacre, Marilyn’s mother, Anita Williams Christopher, bought all five siblings copies. Jan took the book to college with her during her freshman year, as evidence she could show people of the stories that had floated around her growing up.
Since W. D. Williams died in 1984, his children and grandchildren have quietly continued the effort to preserve the family history. But, because of their early spirit of generosity, their artifacts now serve as a kind of collective visual shorthand for both Greenwood’s wealth and its destruction. Rare images of early Greenwood that the Williams family once possessed are now housed at the Smithsonian National Museum of African American History and Culture. Photos of the Dreamland that W. D. Williams shared with historians now float aimlessly across the Internet. A photo of John, Loula, and W. D. in a 1911 Norwalk car appeared in a brief “Watchmen” montage, narrated by Henry Louis Gates, Jr., describing Greenwood’s success.
Although descendants of the Williams family appreciate that “Watchmen” has brought the story of Greenwood to a wider audience, they’re also keenly aware that elements of their family’s history have played out onscreen without their involvement. Marilyn didn’t feel that her story had been co-opted, because the life of the television character Will Reeves, as a police officer and later a costumed crusader in a planet-hopping save-the-universe plot, ultimately branches far away from Daddo’s. Charles, the youngest Christopher sibling, saw the huge interest in the show as a promotional opportunity for other projects centered on the Dreamland. For Jan, the fact that the show leverages the Williams family’s story through their buildings without making their relatives into fully developed characters showed an interest in telling “their story in our place, not our story in our place.” “Loula Williams should be a character in Black history,” Jan told me. “They should probably go ahead and talk to us and actually incorporate her as a real figure instead of trying to get around it just by what they’re seeing on the Internet.”
Damon Lindelof, the co-creator of HBO’s “Watchmen,” first read about the Tulsa Race Massacre in a brief aside in Ta-Nehesi Coates’s 2014 article “The Case for Reparations.” “I think the first thing I did after I read the Coates article is I just Googled it,” Lindelof told me in an interview. After an Internet search brought him to the Wikipedia page for the event and some news articles about it, Lindelof ordered a book by Tim Madigan called “The Burning,” from Amazon, and quickly read it cover to cover. It was in “The Burning” that Lindelof first learned about the Williams family and the Williams Dreamland Theatre.
The Dreamland made sense as the initial focal point for a “Watchmen” adaptation. Just as the original 1986 graphic novel embedded other comics within the overarching narrative, the TV version would include movies and TV shows that reinterpreted, subverted, and sometimes obscured the true history of the “Watchmen” world. John and Loula Williams were only two of many prominent Greenwood residents, and so the Williams family onscreen became O. B. and Ruth, composite characters whose backstories also drew from O. B. Mann, a Greenwood entrepreneur and First World War veteran, and other Black Wall Street historical figures. The writers of the show decided that the Williams Dreamland Theatre’s marquee should be presented exactly as it had existed historically, in order to lend the scene more authenticity. “If we actually felt like we were using the family as those characters, the real Williams family, then it would have been incumbent upon us to reach out and include them,” Lindelof said.
The notion of reaching out to the Williams family or other massacre descendants during the development did not occur to him, Lindelof said, though the production team did consult with the Greenwood Cultural Center and used various primary-source documents. “It didn’t feel like it was appropriation. It felt like we were telling history,” he said. Entertainment conglomerates, such as Warner Media, HBO’s parent company, have used trademark and copyright laws to protect their intellectual property for decades. For large corporations and wealthy families, such legal maneuvers are easy. For average people, seeing their stories come to light is often assumed to be payment enough.


newyorker--2020-09-20--Trump Says Supreme Court Nominee Will Be Woman, Person, Camera, or TV

FAYETTEVILLE , N.C. ( The Borowitz Report ) —Donald J. Trump dropped a major hint about his upcoming Supreme Court @ @ @ @ @ his nominee will be a woman , person , camera , or TV .
“ @ @ @ @ @ , ” Trump roared at a rally in North Carolina , adding , “ person @ @ @ @ @ According to White House sources , Trump has already drawn up a short list of @ @ @ @ @ Coney Barrett , the Canon Sure Shot Z115 , and the Samsung Q900TS QLED 8K @ @ @ @ @ The uproar engulfing Trump ’ s plan to nominate a Supreme Court Justice before the @ @ @ @ @ the revelation that he was considering an inanimate object for the job .
Senator Mitch @ @ @ @ @ off the controversy .
“ If the President nominates a camera or a TV , @ @ @ @ @ through , ” he said .

FAYETTEVILLE, N.C. (The Borowitz Report)—Donald J. Trump dropped a major hint about his upcoming Supreme Court pick by telling supporters that his nominee will be a woman, person, camera, or TV.
“I will choose a woman,” Trump roared at a rally in North Carolina, adding, “person, camera, TV.”
According to White House sources, Trump has already drawn up a short list of potential nominees, including Amy Coney Barrett, the Canon Sure Shot Z115, and the Samsung Q900TS QLED 8K UHD HDR Smart TV.
The uproar engulfing Trump’s plan to nominate a Supreme Court Justice before the election only grew louder with the revelation that he was considering an inanimate object for the job.
Senator Mitch McConnell, however, brushed off the controversy. “If the President nominates a camera or a TV, we’ll ram it through,” he said.


newyorker--2020-09-22--New Postal Service Procedures Completely Unrelated to the Election

On behalf of the federal government and the Republican Party , I would like to thank you for your dedication to the United States Postal Service .
Some might say that the work you do is indispensable to the democratic process .
As you well know , the U.S.P.S .
is not just an independent agency empowered by the Constitution : it ’ s also a family .
And , like any family , we do exactly as we are told by the President of the United States .
Today , I am pleased to share with you some updated @ @ @ @ @ @ @ timing of these changes of course has nothing to do with the 2020 election being largely decided by mail-in votes .
First and foremost , there will be no more Priority Mail .
Mail is no longer a priority to the U.S .
Postal Service .
If you find a piece of loose mail , do not pick it up .
If you want , you can kick it under some leaves , or into the gutter .
If a stamp is not perfectly level or aesthetically pleasing , return to sender .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ gloom of night shall now absolutely stay you from the swift completion of your appointed rounds .
As a cost-cutting measure , working overtime and/or making additional trips to deliver mail are now prohibited .
The less postal work you do , the higher your chances are of receiving a promotion .
For example , I was once a mere mega-donor who had never even set foot inside a post office , and now look at me !
In response to overblown concerns regarding routine mailbox removals , we will now be adding @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
These new drop points , however , will be decoys , and it is up to the customer to know which are the real boxes .
If your mail truck gets lost , damaged , or stolen , that is perfectly O.K .
In fact , it ’ s encouraged .
Mail carriers now have the option to complete their routes via bicycle .
Mail carriers now have the option not to complete their routes .
Professionalism is also now optional .
Carriers may continue to greet civilians with a friendly demeanor @ @ @ @ @ @ @ choose to swear , spit , blow smoke in civilians ’ faces , and drink excessively while on the job .
Do not concern yourself with the twenty-three senior Postal Service officials I recently “ displaced.
” You should instead be busy displacing mail !
If you see any envelopes addressed to my wife , please forward them to Canada , where President Trump promised she ’ ll serve as Ambassador once I ’ ve finished “ improving ” the U.S.P.S .
Be more Zen in your approach to the job , which @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the destination .
We value peace of mind more than any piece of mail , so feel free to take breaks , detours , crucial parts from letter-sorting machines—take anything at all as long as you don ’ t take the mail too seriously .
Finally , if you encounter a piece of mail that is a ballot , and the stamp smells like it was licked by a liberal , discard it .
By now you should know that I ’ m not some career postal worker with “ experience ” and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to shake things up !
And sooner rather than later , as I may very well be doing something else come November .
God bless the U.S.P.S .
I hope this letter does not find you well .

Dear Employee,
On behalf of the federal government and the Republican Party, I would like to thank you for your dedication to the United States Postal Service. Some might say that the work you do is indispensable to the democratic process. As you well know, the U.S.P.S. is not just an independent agency empowered by the Constitution: it’s also a family. And, like any family, we do exactly as we are told by the President of the United States.
Today, I am pleased to share with you some updated best practices for mail delivery. The timing of these changes of course has nothing to do with the 2020 election being largely decided by mail-in votes.
First and foremost, there will be no more Priority Mail. Mail is no longer a priority to the U.S. Postal Service. If you find a piece of loose mail, do not pick it up. If you want, you can kick it under some leaves, or into the gutter.
If a stamp is not perfectly level or aesthetically pleasing, return to sender.
Snow, rain, heat, and gloom of night shall now absolutely stay you from the swift completion of your appointed rounds.
As a cost-cutting measure, working overtime and/or making additional trips to deliver mail are now prohibited. The less postal work you do, the higher your chances are of receiving a promotion. For example, I was once a mere mega-donor who had never even set foot inside a post office, and now look at me!
In response to overblown concerns regarding routine mailbox removals, we will now be adding more mailboxes to streets all across America. These new drop points, however, will be decoys, and it is up to the customer to know which are the real boxes.
If your mail truck gets lost, damaged, or stolen, that is perfectly O.K. In fact, it’s encouraged.
Mail carriers now have the option to complete their routes via bicycle.
Mail carriers now have the option not to complete their routes.
Professionalism is also now optional. Carriers may continue to greet civilians with a friendly demeanor and warm smile, or they may choose to swear, spit, blow smoke in civilians’ faces, and drink excessively while on the job.
Do not concern yourself with the twenty-three senior Postal Service officials I recently “displaced.” You should instead be busy displacing mail!
If you see any envelopes addressed to my wife, please forward them to Canada, where President Trump promised she’ll serve as Ambassador once I’ve finished “improving” the U.S.P.S.
Be more Zen in your approach to the job, which should be more about the journey than the destination. We value peace of mind more than any piece of mail, so feel free to take breaks, detours, crucial parts from letter-sorting machines—take anything at all as long as you don’t take the mail too seriously.
Finally, if you encounter a piece of mail that is a ballot, and the stamp smells like it was licked by a liberal, discard it.
By now you should know that I’m not some career postal worker with “experience” and “knowledge.” I’m here to shake things up! And sooner rather than later, as I may very well be doing something else come November.
God bless the U.S.P.S. I hope this letter does not find you well.
Worst,
Louis DeJoy
Postmaster General


newyorker--2020-09-22--Freedom Day, 1963: A Lost Interview with James Baldwin

J.B. : And you feel that so strongly that you haven ’ t got time to be afraid .
And those faces—my God .
You know ?
The faces of the white in the South is a real blasphemy .
Anyway , we started trying to feed the people .
Mrs. Boynton came back to report to Jim Forman that the sheriff was not allowing anybody to talk to anybody on the line .
And Jim wasn ’ t talking to anybody on the line .
You were not allowed to talk to them .
F.M.E .
: Did they @ @ @ @ @ @ @ No .
The food issue began to be crucial , because if you couldn ’ t talk to them you couldn ’ t feed them .
And we had all these sandwiches .
F.M.E .
: And they ’ d be tired and have to leave .
J.B. : Well , they didn ’ t .
As a matter of fact , as far as I could tell , nobody left .
J.B. : It was very hot .
And there they stood .
They were leaning on one another ’ s shoulders @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and stood around .
It turned out we couldn ’ t even get close enough to the line , as somebody figured out , to put all the sandwiches in a shopping bag and carry it to the end of the line and have those sandwiches passed up by the people on the line .
Kind of a bucket-brigade thing .
Then Jim and Mrs. Boynton and I walked over to talk to the sheriff .
Mrs. Boynton and Jim said that the people had been standing there for a long time , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ were hungry .
We had food for them—we ’ d like to feed them .
The sheriff said , “ I ’ ll not have them molested in any way.
” Mrs. Boynton said , “ We ’ re not trying to molest them .
We ’ re trying to feed them.
” And the sheriff said again—he said it four times , no matter what anybody said .
Four times .
And this had been the pattern of the whole morning , as though they ’ d learned one phrase .
F.M.E @ @ @ @ @ @ @ sign in the zoo— “ Don ’ t feed the animals ” ?
Sometimes they say , “ Don ’ t molest the animals.
” J.B. : That ’ s probably where he got it from .
“ I will not have them molested in any way.
” And , finally , Jim said , “ Are you really forbidding us to talk to these people and feed these people ?
Don ’ t you know that ’ s against the law ?
” And the sheriff said , “ I don ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the law—that ’ s my order.
” And he turned away , with his fat behind and his fat face .
And his helmet .
J.B. : “ Big Jim ” Clark .
I wish to God that somebody ’ d blow his head off .
F.M.E .
: Wouldn ’ t help .
There ’ d be another one just like him .
J.B. : No , it would help .
There are some people whose only reason to be , whose only human use , is that they should come to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ use .
F.M.E .
: How were the three hundred and seventy-five people on the line ?
How did they behave ?
J.B. : They were very orderly .
They were absolutely silent , and they were just standing there .
They didn ’ t say a word to any of us , because we couldn ’ t get anywhere near them .
F.M.E .
: How far away from them were you ?
J.B. : We were on the other side of the street .
Jim then decided he would take the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ “ You ’ d be playing into their hands if you do .
You ’ re in charge of this operation .
If you take the sandwiches over , they ’ ll put you in jail , and so that destroys your usefulness for the foreseeable—for the rest of this day , anyway.
” And , in the same way , Jim thought maybe I should carry one of the registration signs , and David said , “ Well , you know , in that case , Jimmy will be arrested , and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ mass meeting tonight .
They ’ ll be delighted to have him in jail.
” And we prevailed upon Jim not to take the sandwiches .
And two boys , [ the SNCC activists ] Carver Neblett and Avery Williams , about twenty and twenty-one , volunteered to take the sandwiches over , and , well , they did .
D.B .
: There was a whole load of sandwiches , and they wouldn ’ t let them take no more than a little box .
They knew— J.B. : They went over @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a handful of sandwiches .
And from across the street we saw the two boys .
They approached the sheriff together and were arguing with the sheriff , obviously .
The sheriff struck one of them , and then the other boy went down .
The posse closed in , and you could see them kicking them .
And they were using the cattle prod on them .
The cameramen were trying to get this .
And the posse—half the posse—was on these two kids , and the other part of the posse @ @ @ @ @ @ @ up with their helmets in front of the cameras , to prevent anything from being seen .
This is also happening under the eyes of the F.B.I .
and the Justice Department .
And they finally carried the boys around the corner and threw them into a bus .
It ’ s the last we ever saw of them—for the day .
When the posse started beating up these kids , the mob rushed forward , as though someone had blown a whistle—and this was the signal for slaughter .
I ’ ll @ @ @ @ @ @ @ what this town is like .
F.M.E .
: How large a white crowd was there ?
J.B. : It got bigger as it went on .
They were integrated with the posse , because they ’ d driven us away .
We were driven off the sidewalk , and we found ourselves on the federal-courthouse steps , where we thought we were protected , and where the sheriff had already arrested three boys carrying voter-registration signs .
F.M.E .
: What was the charge ?
J.B. : Unlawful assembly .
We all @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
We couldn ’ t stand anyplace else .
And I went inside .
The F.B.I .
was picking up statements , for what reason I can not imagine .
I went inside to give a statement , and while I was inside David and the cameramen and everybody—this is an integrated crowd—came in to report that the sheriff had driven them off the steps of the federal courthouse .
J.B. : The reporters were very friendly .
D.B .
: It was the reporters who asked them if it was against the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ steps .
And the F.B.I .
man said , “ Yes , it ’ s against the law.
” By this time , you ’ re quite mad .
You ask if it ’ s against the law and they ask you if you had a statement to make .
In my statement , I said I ’ d had sixteen months in Korea .
And what for ?
J.B. : Yes .
The moral of the story , Fern , is that what really happened was that three hundred and seventy-five people @ @ @ @ @ @ @ government would put in jail if they didn ’ t pay their taxes , would put in jail if they did not serve in the Army—this same government says , and makes it known , they can ’ t do anything to protect them .
There were three hundred and seventy-five people in that street yesterday who could have been shot down under the eyes of the F.B.I.
, and the government could have done nothing about it .
All these people were jeopardizing their lives , their jobs , their children , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ on that line in order to vote , which is an American right and duty .
And the government of the U.S. , which can mount invasions of Cuba and “ protect ” the Vietnamese , can not protect these people !
That ’ s a lie .
The government can do anything it wants to do .
What it means is that the government does not dare yet to offend the Southern oligarchy .
It ’ s not the F.B.I .
who does it , you know , it ’ s really @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Congress who are Southerners , and the fact that Bobby Kennedy doesn ’ t dare attack them .
The Administration doesn ’ t give a damn .

James Forman, of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee, with James Baldwin, in Selma, Alabama, in 1963. Photograph by Danny Lyon / Magnum
James Baldwin’s first biographer was my aunt Fern Marja Eckman, a prize-winning feature writer and reporter for the New York Post. She died in 2019, at the age of a hundred and three. As her closest living relative, I cleaned out her apartment. Hidden in a concealed drawer of an old mahogany desk, I found transcripts of interviews that she had conducted with Baldwin. Some of that material was included in her book, “The Furious Passage of James Baldwin,” which was published, in 1966, by M. Evans & Company. It is especially interesting to read the carefully typed transcripts of their conversations in light of our current moment.
With the encouragement of Eddie S. Glaude, Jr., the chair of the department of African-American studies at Princeton University and the author of a current best-seller on Baldwin, “Begin Again,” I am making more of this interview material public. The session captured below, part of which appeared in my aunt’s book, is particularly relevant. It took place on the afternoon of October 9, 1963, just two days after Baldwin returned to New York from Selma, Alabama, where he had taken part in “Freedom Day,” a Black voter-registration drive organized by the Dallas County Voters League and the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC). Selma is a town in Dallas County, part of the so-called Black Belt, where Black voting registration was almost nonexistent. In Dallas County, the population at the time was fifty-eight per cent Black; only one per cent of the Black population was registered to vote. More than eighty per cent of the Black population in Dallas County lived under the poverty line and was routinely disqualified from voting by literacy tests and other restrictions. The registration rate among the white population was sixty-four per cent.
The historian Howard Zinn, who attended the march as an adviser to SNCC, wrote in his memoir, “You Can’t Be Neutral on a Moving Train,” “The idea was to bring hundreds of people to register to vote, hoping that their numbers would decrease fear.” In Selma, Baldwin marched alongside SNCC’s executive secretary, James Forman, and other activists. “Freedom Day,” 1963, was a forerunner to events in Alabama in 1965––the “Bloody Sunday” confrontation at the Edmund Pettus Bridge and the march from Selma to Montgomery––that led to the passage of the Voting Rights Act.
At the time of the interview, Baldwin was already a major literary star. He had recently published “Another Country,” as well as “The Fire Next Time,” which originally appeared in The New Yorker and was riding high on the best-seller lists. He and my aunt were joined at the table by Baldwin’s brother David. The interview has been edited for length and clarity.
—Leslie J. Freeman
James Baldwin: On Sunday morning [October 6, 1963], James Forman called me and asked me if I would come down that night. The reason was that he had designated October 7th as “Freedom Day,” and that involved a tremendous registration drive. He wanted to make sure that we’d get more than the usual press coverage and that I would write about it and speak that evening at the mass rally. So, in a way, I was being used as bait. I wasn’t at all sure I could. Then I thought about it and I got my ticket, and we flew down, David and I.
He wanted me to get down early because he wanted to brief me on the situation in Selma, Alabama, which is a town I’d never seen, and to prepare me for what Monday would be like. I must say, in that he completely failed. No one could have prepared me for Monday.
We got to Selma early Monday morning, about 1:30 a.m. Alabama time. And we had a talk. Jim gave me some idea of the town itself. The proportion of Negroes is something like fifty-eight per cent, which is, of course, the key to the whole battle. It’s a cotton town. And poor.
We were sitting around talking. You would be aware of—sudden silence fell. And then you’d realize that a car was coming. And that everyone was listening . . . for a car. And, of course, you did, too. You’d see the lights of the car pass the window, in this total silence, and you’d be aware that everyone, including you, was waiting for bullets or a bomb. And the car would pass, and you’d go to the blinds and look out.
Then we’d start talking again. This went on the whole time we were talking. During this same conversation, Prathia Hall, [a SNCC field secretary] who was later arrested, went to the phone. We couldn’t hear what was on the other end of the phone, but we heard Prathia saying, “What happened there? How are your wife and children?” And, “Did you know who they were?” Which is sufficiently disturbing. It turned out that a man named Porter found two white men under his house, fiddling with his gas pipe, at two-thirty in the morning. It was his dog who barked and alerted him. The next day, we saw Porter, and we learned they had come and killed his dog. Then we went out to the [voter-registration] line.
Fern Marja Eckman: Were you scared?
J.B.: Yeah! I was scared physically, because I knew what could happen, and I was scared because I didn’t know how to handle myself. The Deep South depends on a certain kind of—I didn’t want to get anybody else in trouble. I didn’t know what I would say to any of those cops. It’s a principal terror when I’m there. There’s a weird kind of etiquette which I can’t observe, because I wasn’t born there, and you can’t learn it.
We got there around 9:45 a.m. The press people were out there. I don’t know if I can explain to you what it means in a town like that to get that many Negroes out to stand on line to vote.
F.M.E.: Well, try to tell me.
J.B.: Well, it’s almost impossible, you know. Here is a town that’s ruled by terror, that’s ruled by mob. The white population and the police are all the mob, and there’s no protection for any Negro in the town of any kind whatever. You cannot call the police. You’d be out of your mind. And the Negroes are not armed. They cannot protect themselves. It’s not a rich town, so everyone there is, in one way or another, dependent for his livelihood on some white man. Now, to get, as Jim did, three hundred and seventy-five Negroes out to vote—
F.M.E.: How long had they been working on that?
J.B.: They’d been working on it since February. A fantastic thing, you know, to be able to do. Fantastic!
F.M.E.: What age ranges were they?
J.B.: They were from sixty to twenty-one, but the higher proportion of people in the line were young people. The older people in one way or another are, in general, too victimized, too intimidated, too tired, you know? It was the kids—obviously, most of the kids—who led the registration drive.
It was very peaceful in the beginning. We walked up and down the line. Jim was proselytizing as he went. It was very impressive to see. I guess we wandered about for an hour, talking to various people, who kept coming. But no Negro had gone through the doors as of yet. No Negro did go through those doors until ten-thirty, and it was not because there was a great press of people inside. They were determined not to register any Negroes. They dawdled as long as they could. We went away about eleven, and when we came back the posse was out. With green helmets.
F.M.E.: The storm troopers.
J.B.: The storm troopers, yes. And the state troopers’ cars.
David Baldwin: They weren’t in yet.
J.B.: That’s right. There were so many it’s hard to remember the colors. Orange helmets. Orange and blue and green helmets.
D.B.: The blue ones were state troopers. The orange and the green are the posse.
J.B.: Yes. The posse was so many people. The sheriff––Dallas County Sheriff Jim Clark––had deputized anybody who could carry a gun.
D.B.: And white.
J.B.: And white, yes. I should have pointed that out. [Laughs.] It was the orange deputies first. The other cats didn’t come in until later. But, still, everything was very peaceful. We could still talk to the people on the line, and the line was still stretched around the corner. And there was no real hassle. There was only a very faint harbinger of what was to come in the fact that these men behind with the helmets kept saying, “You’re blocking the sidewalk. Move along, move along.” And so on. We kept moving. But there was no question about whether or not we could talk to people.
I guess the crisis began around noon. Just before noon. When did the sheriff get there?


newyorker--2020-09-22--Merrick Garland Sitting in Parked Car in Mitch McConnell’s Driveway

LOUISVILLE , KENTUCKY ( The Borowitz Report ) —Merrick Garland is sitting in a parked car in Mitch McConnell ’ s driveway , hoping for a meeting with the Senate Majority Leader , Garland has confirmed .
Garland , who has been sitting in his Nissan Sentra in McConnell ’ s driveway since Monday , said that he is “ encouraged ” by recent developments indicating that Republicans have changed their minds about confirming a Supreme Court Justice during an election year .
“ Mitch McConnell and Lindsey Graham thought it was a terrible idea in 2016 , but for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ around , ” he said .
“ All I can say is , playing the waiting game is about to pay off big time for one Merrick Garland.
” Garland , who has not seen McConnell enter or leave his home since the judge first parked his Sentra in the driveway , was baffled by speculation that the Kentucky senator has been hiding in his kitchen to avoid an encounter with him .
“ That makes zero sense to me , ” Garland said .
“ If I ’ m going to be @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ve got to get going on this thing .
”

LOUISVILLE, KENTUCKY (The Borowitz Report)—Merrick Garland is sitting in a parked car in Mitch McConnell’s driveway, hoping for a meeting with the Senate Majority Leader, Garland has confirmed.
Garland, who has been sitting in his Nissan Sentra in McConnell’s driveway since Monday, said that he is “encouraged” by recent developments indicating that Republicans have changed their minds about confirming a Supreme Court Justice during an election year.
“Mitch McConnell and Lindsey Graham thought it was a terrible idea in 2016, but for whatever reason they’ve really come around,” he said. “All I can say is, playing the waiting game is about to pay off big time for one Merrick Garland.”
Garland, who has not seen McConnell enter or leave his home since the judge first parked his Sentra in the driveway, was baffled by speculation that the Kentucky senator has been hiding in his kitchen to avoid an encounter with him.
“That makes zero sense to me,” Garland said. “If I’m going to be confirmed before the election, we’ve got to get going on this thing.”


newyorker--2020-09-22--How Trump’s Supreme Court Maneuver Could Dangerously Increase the Powers of the President

With Senator Mitt Romney ’ s announcement that he supports moving forward with the confirmation of a new Supreme Court Justice , Donald Trump and Mitch McConnell have secured the Republican votes they need to begin the process of filling the seat of the late Ruth Bader Ginsburg .
Trump and McConnell now stand poised to create a conservative majority on the Court that could last decades .
The moment marks a triumph for the Federalist Society , a conservative and libertarian legal group that has worked since the nineteen-eighties to recruit ultra-conservative lawyers to serve as judges .
Republicans @ @ @ @ @ @ @ but a dramatic and historic change in American democracy and jurisprudence is under way that could vastly increase the power of the Presidency , corporations , and the wealthy , and curtail , or bring to an end , abortion rights , Obamacare , and expansive voting rights .
Four Supreme Court Justices—Clarence Thomas , Samuel Alito , Neil Gorsuch , and Brett Kavanaugh—are seen as closely aligned with the group ’ s legal philosophy .
A fifth Federalist Society-friendly Justice would constitute a majority .
The two federal judges currently short-listed to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Coney Barrett and Barbara Lagoa , are , respectively , a former and a current member of the group .
Barrett , a U.S. Court of Appeals judge and a former Notre Dame Law School professor from Louisiana , served as a law clerk to the late Justice Antonin Scalia , who is considered a hero by the group .
Lagoa , a Cuban-American U.S. Court of Appeals judge and former State Supreme Court justice from Florida , is married to a lawyer , Paul C. Huck , Jr. , who is known @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Federalist Society in Miami .
Both potential nominees are popular with conservatives .
Choosing either of them would allow Trump to inflame the culture wars for weeks , warn of the dangers of a “ socialist ” Supreme Court if Joe Biden is elected , and shift media coverage away from his mishandling of the coronavirus pandemic , as the number of Americans who have died of COVID-19 surpasses two hundred thousand .
Barrett gained fame among conservatives after Trump nominated her to her current court seat , in 2017 , and , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ clumsily questioned her religious views .
Barrett , an observant Catholic , had several of her seven children , two of whom are adopted , sit behind her in the chamber .
When Senator Dianne Feinstein called Barrett “ controversial , ” and implied that her personal religious beliefs would influence her rulings on abortion rights , Barrett calmly said that they would not .
That brief exchange made her a folk hero among conservatives who feel that religiously observant people are besieged and discriminated against by liberal élites .
Barrett was confirmed @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , her rulings have won wide approval from conservatives .
In a 2019 dissenting opinion , Barrett wrote that the government should be able to strip a Wisconsin man who pleaded guilty to mail fraud for a Medicare scheme , a felony , of his right to vote but not his right to own a gun .
During her three years on the federal bench , Barrett has also ruled that job applicants can not sue employers whose policies have a disproportionately negative impact on older workers and that judges should not stop @ @ @ @ @ @ @ face torture at home .
Lagoa ’ s rulings as a federal appeals-court judge , in Florida , have also cheered conservatives .
This month , Lagoa joined a majority federal appeals-court decision that upheld a law , enacted by Republicans in the state legislature , which bars people convicted of felonies from voting unless they have paid all fines , restitution , and fees imposed at their sentencing .
That requirement limited the impact of a 2018 statewide referendum that restored voting rights to that population , who , under the state @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ballots for life .
The new law is expected to prevent as many as eighty-five thousand people who had registered to vote from casting ballots this November .
As my colleague Dexter Filkins recently wrote , Lagoa and a second judge on the court had both been appointed by Florida ’ s Republican governor , Ron DeSantis , to the State Supreme Court .
While serving on that court , they had participated in oral arguments that resulted in an advisory decision supporting DeSantis .
By legal custom , they should have recused @ @ @ @ @ @ @ They declined to do so .
In other rulings , Lagoa sided with big business , by limiting the options of homeowners facing foreclosure , blocking an effort to create a higher minimum wage in Miami , and ruling against employees who filed lawsuits against Uber and Caterpillar .
In a 2019 decision , Lagoa ruled that DeSantis had the power to fire a democratically elected county sheriff over his handling of the Parkland school shooting .
The sheriff argued that only voters can remove an elected official from office and that the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ powers .
Barrett ’ s and Lagoa ’ s decisions and legal writings place them squarely in the legal-philosophical camp of the Attorney General , William Barr , a former Federalist Society member , a law-and-order hard-liner , and a supporter of expanding the power of the Presidency in ways that would alter the American system of three coequal branches of government .
Liberal legal scholars say that Barr ’ s views of executive-branch powers , if enacted , would create a President who was more like a monarch .
Two days before @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Street Journal reported that Barr had suggested to federal prosecutors that they consider bringing sedition charges against protesters who engage in violence .
Such a heavy-handed response to demonstrators is highly unusual and alarmed some officials on the call .
The proposal by Barr , who has repeatedly exaggerated the role of Antifa in protests , was reminiscent of Attorney General John Mitchell , who , during the Nixon Administration , called antiwar protesters “ militants , ” prosecuted them for conspiracy , and helped sway millions of Americans to vote for Nixon @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Wednesday night to a small conservative college , praised a dissenting Supreme Court opinion in the 1988 case Morrison v. Olson , written by Scalia , that argued that independent counsels ( such as Robert Mueller ) are unconstitutional and do not have the right to investigate Presidents .
Barr failed to mention that every other Justice who heard the case , including five appointed by Republican Presidents , voted against Scalia , 7–1 , and found that independent counsels are a proper check on abuse by Presidents and their aides .
Barr @ @ @ @ @ @ @ involvement of the President and his appointees in federal criminal prosecutions .
Contradicting forty years of bipartisan legal norms , the Attorney General argued that elected politicians , not nonpartisan civil servants in the Justice Department , should closely control criminal prosecutions .
He claimed that career prosecutors sometimes become “ headhunters , ” who are “ consumed with taking down their target , ” and he said that “ political winners ritually prosecuting the political losers is not the stuff of a mature democracy.
” What Barr failed to note was that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Department and using it to boost his President ’ s reëlection effort in ways not seen since Mitchell and Nixon .
In a question-and-answer session after his speech , Barr called pandemic shelter-at-home orders “ the greatest intrusion on civil liberties in American history ” since slavery .
On Monday , he accused Democratic mayors of allowing “ anarchy ” to take hold in their cities , and threatened to withhold billions of dollars in federal funding from them .
The mayors of New York , Seattle , and Portland , Oregon , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Congress , not the President , controls funding .
Trump , for his part , has repeatedly called for the jailing of his political rivals , including , to name just a few , Biden , former President Barack Obama , New York Governor Andrew Cuomo , former national-security adviser John Bolton , former F.B.I .
director James Comey , and , of course , Hillary Clinton .
In the weeks ahead , Trump and McConnell will argue that they need to push through their Supreme Court nominee to bring order to the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to claim that autocrat-like Presidential powers are needed to counter leftist insurrections that do not exist .
But it is the President , the Senate Majority Leader , and the Attorney General who are dangerously exacerbating tensions , stoking division , and sowing instability .

With Senator Mitt Romney’s announcement that he supports moving forward with the confirmation of a new Supreme Court Justice, Donald Trump and Mitch McConnell have secured the Republican votes they need to begin the process of filling the seat of the late Ruth Bader Ginsburg. Trump and McConnell now stand poised to create a conservative majority on the Court that could last decades. The moment marks a triumph for the Federalist Society, a conservative and libertarian legal group that has worked since the nineteen-eighties to recruit ultra-conservative lawyers to serve as judges. Republicans face a potential backlash in November, but a dramatic and historic change in American democracy and jurisprudence is under way that could vastly increase the power of the Presidency, corporations, and the wealthy, and curtail, or bring to an end, abortion rights, Obamacare, and expansive voting rights.
Four Supreme Court Justices—Clarence Thomas, Samuel Alito, Neil Gorsuch, and Brett Kavanaugh—are seen as closely aligned with the group’s legal philosophy. A fifth Federalist Society-friendly Justice would constitute a majority. The two federal judges currently short-listed to be Trump’s nominee, Amy Coney Barrett and Barbara Lagoa, are, respectively, a former and a current member of the group. Barrett, a U.S. Court of Appeals judge and a former Notre Dame Law School professor from Louisiana, served as a law clerk to the late Justice Antonin Scalia, who is considered a hero by the group. Lagoa, a Cuban-American U.S. Court of Appeals judge and former State Supreme Court justice from Florida, is married to a lawyer, Paul C. Huck, Jr., who is known as the “godfather” of the Federalist Society in Miami.
Both potential nominees are popular with conservatives. Choosing either of them would allow Trump to inflame the culture wars for weeks, warn of the dangers of a “socialist” Supreme Court if Joe Biden is elected, and shift media coverage away from his mishandling of the coronavirus pandemic, as the number of Americans who have died of COVID-19 surpasses two hundred thousand.
Barrett gained fame among conservatives after Trump nominated her to her current court seat, in 2017, and, during her confirmation hearings, Senate Democrats clumsily questioned her religious views. Barrett, an observant Catholic, had several of her seven children, two of whom are adopted, sit behind her in the chamber. When Senator Dianne Feinstein called Barrett “controversial,” and implied that her personal religious beliefs would influence her rulings on abortion rights, Barrett calmly said that they would not. That brief exchange made her a folk hero among conservatives who feel that religiously observant people are besieged and discriminated against by liberal élites.
Barrett was confirmed largely along party lines; since then, her rulings have won wide approval from conservatives. In a 2019 dissenting opinion, Barrett wrote that the government should be able to strip a Wisconsin man who pleaded guilty to mail fraud for a Medicare scheme, a felony, of his right to vote but not his right to own a gun. During her three years on the federal bench, Barrett has also ruled that job applicants cannot sue employers whose policies have a disproportionately negative impact on older workers and that judges should not stop the deportation of immigrants who say they face torture at home.
Lagoa’s rulings as a federal appeals-court judge, in Florida, have also cheered conservatives. This month, Lagoa joined a majority federal appeals-court decision that upheld a law, enacted by Republicans in the state legislature, which bars people convicted of felonies from voting unless they have paid all fines, restitution, and fees imposed at their sentencing. That requirement limited the impact of a 2018 statewide referendum that restored voting rights to that population, who, under the state constitution, had been banned from casting ballots for life. The new law is expected to prevent as many as eighty-five thousand people who had registered to vote from casting ballots this November. As my colleague Dexter Filkins recently wrote, Lagoa and a second judge on the court had both been appointed by Florida’s Republican governor, Ron DeSantis, to the State Supreme Court. While serving on that court, they had participated in oral arguments that resulted in an advisory decision supporting DeSantis. By legal custom, they should have recused themselves from the federal appeals-court ruling. They declined to do so.
In other rulings, Lagoa sided with big business, by limiting the options of homeowners facing foreclosure, blocking an effort to create a higher minimum wage in Miami, and ruling against employees who filed lawsuits against Uber and Caterpillar. In a 2019 decision, Lagoa ruled that DeSantis had the power to fire a democratically elected county sheriff over his handling of the Parkland school shooting. The sheriff argued that only voters can remove an elected official from office and that the ruling dangerously expanded the governor’s powers.
Barrett’s and Lagoa’s decisions and legal writings place them squarely in the legal-philosophical camp of the Attorney General, William Barr, a former Federalist Society member, a law-and-order hard-liner, and a supporter of expanding the power of the Presidency in ways that would alter the American system of three coequal branches of government. Liberal legal scholars say that Barr’s views of executive-branch powers, if enacted, would create a President who was more like a monarch.
Two days before Ginsburg’s death, the Wall Street Journal reported that Barr had suggested to federal prosecutors that they consider bringing sedition charges against protesters who engage in violence. Such a heavy-handed response to demonstrators is highly unusual and alarmed some officials on the call. The proposal by Barr, who has repeatedly exaggerated the role of Antifa in protests, was reminiscent of Attorney General John Mitchell, who, during the Nixon Administration, called antiwar protesters “militants,” prosecuted them for conspiracy, and helped sway millions of Americans to vote for Nixon.
Barr, in a speech last Wednesday night to a small conservative college, praised a dissenting Supreme Court opinion in the 1988 case Morrison v. Olson, written by Scalia, that argued that independent counsels (such as Robert Mueller) are unconstitutional and do not have the right to investigate Presidents. Barr failed to mention that every other Justice who heard the case, including five appointed by Republican Presidents, voted against Scalia, 7–1, and found that independent counsels are a proper check on abuse by Presidents and their aides. Barr then called for an increase in the involvement of the President and his appointees in federal criminal prosecutions. Contradicting forty years of bipartisan legal norms, the Attorney General argued that elected politicians, not nonpartisan civil servants in the Justice Department, should closely control criminal prosecutions. He claimed that career prosecutors sometimes become “headhunters,” who are “consumed with taking down their target,” and he said that “political winners ritually prosecuting the political losers is not the stuff of a mature democracy.”
What Barr failed to note was that he himself is busily politicizing the Justice Department and using it to boost his President’s reëlection effort in ways not seen since Mitchell and Nixon. In a question-and-answer session after his speech, Barr called pandemic shelter-at-home orders “the greatest intrusion on civil liberties in American history” since slavery. On Monday, he accused Democratic mayors of allowing “anarchy” to take hold in their cities, and threatened to withhold billions of dollars in federal funding from them. The mayors of New York, Seattle, and Portland, Oregon, responded that, under the Constitution, Congress, not the President, controls funding. Trump, for his part, has repeatedly called for the jailing of his political rivals, including, to name just a few, Biden, former President Barack Obama, New York Governor Andrew Cuomo, former national-security adviser John Bolton, former F.B.I. director James Comey, and, of course, Hillary Clinton.
In the weeks ahead, Trump and McConnell will argue that they need to push through their Supreme Court nominee to bring order to the United States. And Barr will continue to claim that autocrat-like Presidential powers are needed to counter leftist insurrections that do not exist. But it is the President, the Senate Majority Leader, and the Attorney General who are dangerously exacerbating tensions, stoking division, and sowing instability.