by BAR poet in residence Raymond "Nat" Turner
Our poet recalls the
living memory of the
Watts LA uprising
a half century ago this week
August 144 hours
by BAR poet in residence Raymond "Nat" Turner
(Hail the 50th Anniversary of
The Heroic L.A. Uprising!)
1.Looting
âIâm gonna loot âtil the midnight hour
Thatâs when the gates come tumblinâ down
Iâm gonna loot âtil the midnight hour
When thereâs no guardsmen aroundâŚâ
I kicked off that martial law, off-the-dome
version of âWickedâ Pickettâs dance floor-
filler and Son-Hawk, Ches-Schu, Ron Shaw,
âPookie,â Jimmy and Jerome came in, Right
On Time, as though weâd rehearsed it, all of
our livesâŚ
Our greeting to hoarse engines, huge tires,
of giant army green trucks bristling with
rifles, loaded with blue eyes and itchy trigger
fingers. Rumbling east, it headed down79th Street,
toward Central AvenueââThe Stem,â as Bunchy
Carter used to call it.
Sitting on wooden milk crates, snacking on cup
cakes, chocolate milk and chips, holding court
as we usually did, we werenât gonna âlootâtil
the midnight hourâŚâ Brothers had jobs, working
There at the Chinese-owned Family Market.
But belly fires set by the Frye Bros. and their
Mother on the 1-1-6 and Avalon wouldnât let
us sit silently, saying nothingâ if we did nothing
but taunt the pale, alien army occupying our streets,
Disturbing our peace!
Really, we felt like Original Guardsman of âThe City
of Angelsââ Chumash, Tataviam, Tongva, Serranoâ
felt about marauding mass murderers, looters, disguised
as
explorers,
Disturbing their peace!
The âCity of Angelsâ first inhabitants didnât
believe in devils and evil spirits, until Spanish
missionaries and settlers arrived with âthug life.â
Natives didnât connect murder and manhood.
Endurance trials, fasting, teaching legends of
the worldâs origin, hallucinogenic rituals, were
ways elders built boyz to
Men.
Medicine people, spiritual people, gathering in
Circles making decisions, saw sacredness in sweet
Air, crystalline water; knew the penalty for taking
too many deer, sheep, fish, mountain goat and rabbit.
They knew nothing of incest, murder, robbery and rape
and had no chiefs named Parker, Davis, Gates, Bratton,
BeckâŚ
Thereâs no psychic statue of limitation for looting land,
Lives, lineage of Serrano, Tongva, Tataviam, Chumash
Peoples.
âThug lifeâ missionaries of expropriation, assimilation,
relocation, reservation and extermination, wiped out 90%
of First peoples. Show us mass graves, where the bodies
are
buried.
2.Shooting
Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop Thew-thew-thew-thew-
thew-thew-thew Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud
Coming quickly after trigger-happy, young occupiersâ English
Checkpoint, curfew commandsâŚMexican drivers, habla Espanol;
volley after volley at volley after volley, at volley, anything moving
Bees piercing walls, farting clouds of fine white dust; buzzing
Lethal lead lullabies to my six-year-old sister and mom, trapped
all day, all night, on their dentistâs floor off 103rd St., the Heart of
Watts.
Down on the ground, Mom and Penny saw much, heard allâŚ
The 8-year-old Watts veteran visited aunts, uncles, cousins for
Summer vacationâtwo years later. Entering their city from
Metro Airport, Uncle James, pre-Marvin, posed the question:
âWhatâs Goinâ On?â Penny explained: Motown was âDancing
In The Streets,â like sheâd seen L.A. dance, two years earlierâŚ.
While Mom and Penny dodged lead fillings from National Guards,
Dad and I bonded, âCome on, boy,â gruff style, grunting, motioning,
We hiked from the front yard of 730 East 81st Street, pink stucco three-
bedroom we called home. Heading northeast for the 70s, we hit 77th &
Central AvenueâWhite FrontâWal-Mart-Costco cross of the times
festive energy flowing from the crowd like black pepper, garlic, onion
smells telegraphing good cooking. Mostly reminded me of when Ali
Stood his ground whipping Liston in Floridaâmaybe, even a wee bit like
when enslaved Africans heard about the Emancipation Proclamation!
steel gates and doors shimmied, wrenched, buckled and broke. Families
emerged elated! Carrying couches, stoves, washing machines, pushing
vacuum cleanersâ no money down, no money everâ for overpriced
furniture and appliances, Liberation Shoppingâ based on needânot
âBlackâ Friday frenzies of overnight camper-zombies, lusting for latest
slave labor products
We sampled soulful, savory democracy, sweet hints of collectivity,
watching organized young men slip like specters through steel gates
and doors liberating guns, before exiting, making way for the masses
Peoples joy chiseled smiles in my dadâs heart, unmasking contours Iâd
Never noticed. Truly a crazy glue moment bonding us for the rest of our
Lives⌠I was proud of him, like I was proud of his work:
Like men on 81st, my dad worked. Worked hard. Outside hammering,
Sawing, sanding cabinets; inside small hours, listening to 105.1 FM Jazz,
Magi birthing blueprints, running the drafting table like a
pool shark on Green felt for new jobs; Bel-Air bar, Beverly Hills office,
Hollywood kitchenâŚ
scribbling my lilâ sloppy thoughts in ragged notebooks, Iâd sometimes join
Him, nights I couldnât sleep
âBurn, baby, burn,â came crescendo cries, unifying calls and responses, from
the white vanâa van weâd see speeding around several times that night!
Magnificent Montagueâs lick, heâd shouted it for years over KGFJ airwaves at
Hot music of The Ice Man, Curtis, cominâ out of Chitown; The Funk Brothers,
Stevie, Smokey out of Motown; Booker T & The MGs, Sam & Dave, The Big O
out of Memphisâ a time when Great Black Music justified: âBurn, baby, burn!â
That night âBurn, baby, burnâ locked rhythms of resistance with harmonies of
SolidarityâŚ
Heading back to 81st Street, Daddy decided weâd walk west to Avalon.
Gusâs burger/pastrami stand: OK; Virgil & Atkinsâ state of the art Tonsorial:
OK; but, a crowd ballooned âround the Stein BrothersâTed and Alanâsâ
Liquor store. a navy blue valiant roared up from hell. Four, white- helmeted,
shotgun-toting, devils leaped out barking epithets and jacking rounds into WMD.
corralling bystanders, one snarling thug slammed my schoolmate, Eddie Rose,
AKA âBulldog,â through T& Aâs Ponderosa plate glass window. Candy cane-
Thick shards of glass smashed into âBulldogâsâ head like a guillotine, slicing
the Nile in his neckâŚ
3.âJust the facts, manâ
We all know the facts, *34 dead, murdered mostly
by police and National Guard
1032 injured, mostly by police and National Guard
**3438 arrested,
$40 million property damage.
We all know the chain of eventsâthe event of chains 1619â1965:
August 11, 1965 21-year-old Marquette Frye was DUI.
And hereâs where beautyâs in the eye of the beholder:
Black angels with wide wings gathered in tens of thousands,
spitting out rot gut of 2nd class citizenshipâ
Speaking fluent Fanny Lou, in actions, âWe are sick and tired of being sick and tiredââ
of all the âroutineâ bullshit harassment traffic stops, dumb-ass degrading, humiliating,
Three Stooges questions, corny B- Movie âyou fit the descriptionâŚâ âA car like
yoursâŚâ throwaway lines, perverted frisks, planting dope and weapons, gratuitous
violence, stream of conscious âtesti-lying,â puttinâ cases on folksâŚ
Not this Wednesday; not this 11th day of August; not this 65th year of the 20th century
This hump day will be the tipping point, critical mass
We control the horizontal, we control the vertical for 46 square miles Not this Wednesday; not this 11th day of August; not this 65th year of the 20th century
We mount the world stage, sons of Malcolm, Mama Harrietâs daughtersânot Slausons,
Businessmen, Gladiators, Farmers, âspooks,â not niggers, or âmonkeys in the zooâŚâ
mushroom clouds of Watts will never fit back in the bottle⌠Rivers of blood, oceans of tears have
Cleansed scales/washed sleep
from a
Generation of L.A. eyesâŚif only for 144 hoursâŚ
*34 people were killed in the L.A. August 1965 rebellion; 5 were killed in 7 1964 uprisings in, Rochester, Paterson, Jersey City, Elizabeth, Chicago, Philadelphia and NYC.
**3,438 were arrested in L.A. August 1965. There were 1,116 arrests in the 7 rebellions of 19
64.
Raymond Nat Turner Š 2015 All Rights Reserved
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