With Love: Stanley E. Williams & Quentin Easter

I'm stunned to read of the back-to-back deaths of two men I knew well, worked for, and liked a lot:

Quentin Easter and Stanley E. Williams, founders of San Francisco's glorious Lorraine Hansberry Theatre.

The very definition of "opposites attract", these two were quite the formidable pair:

Quentin - completely unflappable - always calm, cool, and collected, a man the words "quiet dignity" were invented for. His sleepy brown eyes were always welcoming; and I really mean that - Quentin always had time to talk. He could have played like some big shot theatre guy - which is what he was - but, first and foremost, before the business lunches and whatever, he was a real live thinking feeling human being of the first order. He knew what was what, and who was who, and when he took the measure of a man, it got took. He loved success, but from what I could see, nothing ever went to his head. While I'm sure he would balk at the idea of me calling him a conservative, in many ways he was, and that air of respectability allowed he and Stanley to push open a lot of doors for a hell of a lot of people. I admired him greatly, and value every word of advice he's ever given me, which was a lot.

I wish I could thank him in person.

Not that I've met many people who were even remotely like him, Stanley was that kind of gay guy who always telegraphed his hair was on fire, the only question being if he was enjoying it or not. Stanley was a hustler. He talked too fast, he walked too fast, and if he ever did slow down enough to focus on you, it was either to try and seduce you into doing what he wanted, or, with those always-a-little-too-wide-open eyes, he'd glare you into submission. Oh, Stanley was an angry black man, and didn't mind letting you in on it. All that said, he could also be about as warm, understanding, and compassionate a man as you were likely to meet. It just depended on the time of day. You see, like Quentin with the finances, Stanley was a genius, able to make something out of nothing in the old slave tradition, and yet, so consumed with artistic passion, the sometimes-mad vision that drove him took every one, and every thing, he touched to places no one but he imagined possible. And he did it over and over and over again. Burning. Seriously, if you didn't like one of Stanley's plays, all I have to say is imagine what it would've been like without him. Stanley's shit was so on, it's still hard for me to grasp that a mind, functioning at that capacity and caliber, could be stilled. I know: I'm an atheist. But I'm talking about Stanley. All bets are off on anything.

Stanley hired me for what would turn out to be two seasons, the first as a composer and artist, and the second as an archivist, finding and supplying him with period music for the world premiere of The Huey P. Newton Story starring Roger Guenveur Smith. Though his brilliant Russian soundman and I spent a lot of time together, on occasion I still had to go over to Quentin and Stanley's to preview pieces and discuss sound cues, and there was nothing funnier than watching Stanley go from elation to despair, and back again, based on what he heard. If he liked something, he'd be beaming as though he'd done it himself, already imagining how he was going use it. If it wasn't working for him, then Good Lord, fix it, fix it now, no, fix it where I can hear it, now, I need to hear it (he's addressing the keyboard as though it's controlled by magic) "fix it." I'd look at Quentin, who'd be rolling his eyes, and then I'd do whatever and there was Stanley, arms raised to the heavens again. I loved that. He was hilarious - and everything I thought a great director ought to be. He and Quentin, both, were just outstanding.

Fuck, now I'm going to cry.

My condolences to anyone who had the privilege to know these two great men and/or their work. They are missed.

I'm Down For A Fight (Not Down-And-Out)

One of the main themes of this blog - expressed here, here, here, here, and here - got an eloquent little hearing, from Benjamin A. Plotinsky, over at City Journal recently. In fact, it was so close to what I've been saying, I wondered if they hadn't been reading me. Whether they have or not, I'm still glad to see it out there, because it gives credence to the message I've been delivering almost from Day One:

"Cast your mind back to January 2009, when Barack Obama became the president of the United States amid much rejoicing. The hosannas—covering the inauguration was 'the honor of our lifetimes,' said MSNBC anchor Chris Matthews—by then seemed unsurprising. Over the course of a long campaign, hyperbolic rhetoric had become commonplace, so much so that online wags had started calling Obama 'the One'—a reference to the spate of recent science-fiction movies, especially The Matrix, that used that term to designate a messiah.

It all seems so long ago now, as one contemplates President Obama’s plummeting approval ratings and a suddenly resurgent Republican Party. Yet it’s worth looking closely and seriously at the election-year enthusiasm of media elites and other Obamaphiles, much of which was indeed, as the wags recognized, quasi-religious. The surprising fact is that the American Left, for all its claims to being 'reality-based' and secular, is often animated by the passions, motivations, and imagery that one normally associates with religion. The better we understand this religious impulse, the better we will understand liberal America’s likely trajectory in the years to come."

Actually, City Journal (as far as I know) is the only publication that seems to be on the same wave-length I am, also presenting us with an article about The People's Temple, by Daniel J. Flynn, that underlines the long-running Democratic Party/cult connection:

"For years prior to Jonestown’s cataclysmic finale, unheeded voices, such as journalist Les Kinsolving’s, warned America about the raven-haired preacher feted by San Francisco columnist Herb Caen, supervisor Harvey Milk, and mayor George Moscone.

Indeed, Jim Jones was a power player in Bay Area politics and thereby a player in national Democratic Party politics. Local politicians and activists benefited from the slave labor that he could provide on little notice to people political rallies and hand out campaign literature. In gratitude, Moscone appointed him chairman of San Francisco’s housing authority and Willie Brown likened Jones, a man who would eventually kill more African-Americans than any Ku Klux Klan Grand Wizard, to Martin Luther King, Jr. First lady Rosalyn Carter and her husband’s running mate, Walter Mondale, both met with the cult leader. Jones even appropriated the title of Huey Newton’s book, Revolutionary Suicide, to describe the extermination of his flock (which included several of Newton’s relatives). Once Jonestown’s residents had performed this 'revolutionary suicide,' the wills left behind bequeathed all to the Soviet Union."

How anyone else is missing all this, I don't know. Or maybe I do. Look at the quote, above, and you see the name of "Saint Harvey" Milk, who just had an Oscar-winning movie made about him - starring Hugo Chavez-loving Sean Penn - but it was a movie that erased all of Milk's connections to cultism. Of course, it had to, because if the decades-long connection between the Democrats and cults were ever made explicit - a connection that is just as vibrant today as ever, if not more so - they'd lose their black support (amongst others) in a heart beat.

This is what conservatives have to understand now - this is how we finish the Democrats off. As Mr. Plotinsky says, they've got us in The Matrix right now, but I've been saying all along that I'm Rorschach from The Watchmen, and the truth I'm revealing is The Truth, and I'd rather look crazy than allow it to be covered up for the sake of lying politicians, lousy gay pride movies, or even my love for women. Unfortunately, that's exactly what's been happening, so far.

But maybe - just maybe, if everyone remembers these cultish NewAge forces destroyed my marriage, killed my mother-in-law and three others, and can get over my (more-than-justifiable) anger - they'll decide to investigate all this in depth, and everyone's perception of me will change. It ought to, because I ain't hurt nobody.

I'm "The One" that's been hurt.

Certain Bitches Shouldn't Read

NEW YORK (AP) - There's another side to Alicia Keys: conspiracy theorist. The Grammy-winning singer-songwriter tells Blender magazine: "'Gangsta rap' was a ploy to convince black people to kill each other. 'Gangsta rap' didn't exist."

Keys, 27, said she's read several Black Panther autobiographies and wears a gold AK-47 pendant around her neck "to symbolize strength, power and killing 'em dead," according to an interview in the magazine's May issue, on newsstands Tuesday.

Another of her theories: That the bicoastal feud between slain rappers Tupac Shakur and Notorious B.I.G. was fueled "by the government and the media, to stop another great black leader from existing."

Keys' AK-47 jewelry came as a surprise to her mother, who is quoted as telling Blender: "She wears what? That doesn't sound like Alicia." Keys' publicist, Theola Borden, said Keys was on vacation and unavailable for comment.

Though she's known for her romantic tunes, she told Blender that she wants to write more political songs. If black leaders such as the late Black Panther Huey Newton "had the outlets our musicians have today, it'd be global. I have to figure out a way to do it myself," she said.

-- From a My Way.com article.

Of course, she never considered she's too stupid to lead anything more than a dance troupe, did she? Screw cocaine - it's narcissism that's "one hell of a drug".