Enunciate In One's Mind

“Mule Bone” is a play written by Zora Neale Hurston and Langston Hughes.  They had an irreconcilable disagreement over the authorship of the work and it was not actually produced until 1991, long after they’d both passed away.  Hurston had grown up in the Eatonville Florida, one of the first self-serving, black municipalities in the nation.  The play is set there, and she did much of her anthropological research under the direction of Franz Boaz, among the African American communities of Florida.  She was clearly the primary author.  And the creative interplay where she narrated scenes that made Hughes laugh as he worked with her to fashion in into a dramatic arch sounded like a joyous and clearly collaborative effort as well.  Hughes suggestion that the stenographer, Ms. Louise Thompson however, be due some of the royalties in the future rubbed Hurston the wrong way. 

A version of the play was shared and then forwarded on again and Hughes learned about it third hand.  He was ill and this didn’t make him feel any better.   And though there wasn’t any romantic consummation involved, Hurston seems to have gotten jealous of the role of Ms. Thompson.  Behind the scenes, Hurston and Hughes shared benefactress, the philanthropist, Ms. Charlotte Osgood Mason who had thin skin and helped orchestrate the dust-up.  Her generosity came with a cost and the “Godmother” insisted on artistic oversight which Hughes ultimately rebelled against.  And money was scarce.  And it was the Depression and it is understandable if unfortunate to watch both great minds bow with servility in their letters to Dame Mason. 

The reason I know any of this is because, only one third of the book I’d read, was the actual play, ‘Mule Bone’, which was seminal and is funny and is a pleasure to enunciate in one’s mind.  The ending is satisfying but not symphonic or gripping.  The other two thirds of the book I’d read were about the controversy.  Sifting through two forwards, selections from two biographies, dozens of letters between all the pivotal players, it strikes one that they may have been wasting precious time in the rear-view mirror on this one.  I’m sure it was the principal, for both of them.  But why didn’t each of them simply get back to work and write another play?  Neither attempted another such effort. 

The wiki list of contemporary American composers has lead me this morning to Romeo Cascarino, born in Philadelphia in 1922.  I listened to this Orchestral work, “Pygmalion” earlier this morning doing the dishes and enjoyed it and now I am listening again with better speakers that can actually capture deep sounds.  Dishes I was doing, because I awoke to six photos of dishes and food from the Korean meal my younger one and I made last night followed by the text “It’s TOO MUCH.”  She’d gotten a fair amount of the mess we’d made cleaned, so I wanted to be sure to take care of what was left, before she wandered out.  I’ll ride north today on the trail.  Soon, before the heat falls.

Sunday, 07/26/20