Introduction/Disclaimer

The place: New York, Harlem

The time: 1920s and 1930s

The Harlem Renaissance was a social/cultural/creative revival that centered on African American culture and originated in Harlem, New York city, NY. Imagine bustling streets, streetcars, fancy automobiles, and smoky clubs  playing the new “Jazz” and “Swing”. There was art and literature, discussion and ideas everywhere. It was a time full of music and dance, art and science, new ideas, new politics, and new technology. Most of all there were new opportunities for a community that had lacked any real opportunities in the first place. The air was practically electrified with it.

What follows is a compilation of fictional narratives, based on historical fact, from people who were either key participants in, or key influencers of this cultural revolution. The Harlem Renaissance was a time of significant development for African American culture that would shape American History forever.

In no way do any of the authors claim subject matter expertise. This is a project for a United States History 1865-Current class (Spring-2011, section 13), at the University of Texas at Arlington. In no way does any opinion expressed here reflect the opinions or views of the school.

-Gabriel Settle

Group Leader, Student

20 February 2011

The Weary Blues : Langston Hughes

Droning a drowsy syncopated tune,
Rocking back and forth to a mellow croon,
     I heard a Negro play.
Down on Lenox Avenue the other night
By the pale dull pallor of an old gas light
     He did a lazy sway . . .
     He did a lazy sway . . .
To the tune o' those Weary Blues.
With his ebony hands on each ivory key
He made that poor piano moan with melody.
     O Blues!
Swaying to and fro on his rickety stool
He played that sad raggy tune like a musical fool.
     Sweet Blues!
Coming from a black man's soul.
     O Blues!
In a deep song voice with a melancholy tone
I heard that Negro sing, that old piano moan--
     "Ain't got nobody in all this world,
       Ain't got nobody but ma self.
       I's gwine to quit ma frownin'
       And put ma troubles on the shelf."

Thump, thump, thump, went his foot on the floor.
He played a few chords then he sang some more--
     "I got the Weary Blues
       And I can't be satisfied.
       Got the Weary Blues
       And can't be satisfied--
       I ain't happy no mo'
       And I wish that I had died."
And far into the night he crooned that tune.
The stars went out and so did the moon.
The singer stopped playing and went to bed
While the Weary Blues echoed through his head.
He slept like a rock or a man that's dead.

reprinted from poets.org