Amiable with Big Teeth

by Claude McKay

  It was Pat Conman who snapped the interest of Magnus Chetwind in Dèdé Lee and convinced him that Lee’s masterly portrayal of degenerate Aframerican types was an uplifting achievement, a manifestation of minority courage in the face of the challenge of Fascism and a generous contribution to the programme of the Popular Front. And Chetwind performed such a superb job in launching Dèdé Lee as one of the imaginatively possessed that the latter was almost afraid of the golgothic picture of himself that was built up to establish social seriousness in his drawings.

  Magnus Chetwind’s crusade for popular art with a social purpose was dynamic with urgency. Listening to him over the radio, one received the impression of unselfish lion-hearted courage and quixotism. But a close-up view of him made one think more of an admirably mounted fox in a museum.

  It was a very impressive gathering of people who were assembled for the Interlink’s reception in honor of the realist social-impressionist Dèdé Lee. Liberal and radical people of importance who were alert to all the social and artistic trends of modernism, connoisseurs of art, educators, critics, writers and artists and artistes. There was a bright crowd of Interlinks, with Mrs. Abigail Hobison easily dominant, wearing a dress that was a rare modern edition of old-fashioned imported lace.

  Harlem was worthily represented by its professional and intellectual groups, with the familiar faces of Newton Castle, Dorsey Flagg, Prudhomme Bishop, Bunchetta Facey and Iris Marlow. Delta Castle was noticeably absent, especially since a downtowner, Miss Lublu Lubov, had such a monopoly on Newton’s attentions. The anti–Popular Front Dorsey Flagg was invited by a mistake; the girl who forwarded the invitation to the chairman of the Hands to Ethiopia had confused that organization with the Friends of Ethiopia. Maxim Tasan was there and also Seraphine and Dandy Nordling.

  Moving around in groups the visitors scrutinized examples of Dèdé Lee’s drawings on the walls, with appropriate exclamations over their punch and power. Abigail Hobison announced that Magnus Chetwind would give a short talk and the seats were quickly occupied. Those who could not find seats remained standing.

  Chetwind stood in front of a desk. The occasion was unique, he said. And he proceeded to explain why: “Great artists are the rarest flowers of any Civilization. Their works are like the stars that shine down through the darkness of night. Like the stars in the sky, the galleries of the world are bright with shining works of art. But we have not enough great artists. Our modern artists are neglected, while the world is worshipping at the shrines of dead masters. But dead men need no cheer and comfort, no warmth and food. It is enough that the works of the dead masters illuminate the path of the progress of Civilization like signposts pointing the pilgrim to this way or that. Instead of blindly worshipping the dead masters we should learn from the sad penurious lives of many of them that we should honor and help our modern artists while they are alive.

  “In the works exhibited here this afternoon, we discover the soul of an Aframerican artist of consummate skill and portentous social implication. They are a miracle of achievement—an achievement which is more amazing when we remind ourselves that great art is a rarity and a luxury—the perfected fruit of the carefully cultivated soil of Civilization—the fine vintage of our ripened years of culture. A nice distinction between young artists and old artists is an absurdity, when all spring from the same soil. For a warm advanced spring may precipitate the buds and a late summer retard the golden harvest of the corn. It is the growth of the soil of our common culture, which nurtures alike the young artist and the old, that is important.

  “But in the case of this supreme artist, Mr. Dixon Davis Lee, we are confronted with an astonishing phenomenon of enormous significance. For this artist is not a product of the cultivated soil of our common culture. He is a product of the neglected God-forsaken Aframerican soil. He has sprung vigorously out of the midst of our abominably brutalized native minority. Out of this abandoned miasmic boggy soil, screened from our penetration by a thick growth of poisonous weeds and thorns, which we imagine to be peopled with pestiferous insects and horrendous reptiles, there has issued a miracle of artistic flowering.

  “These drawings are a challenging expression of the highest art. They are not for puny souls, but they are edifying to strong vigorous minds. They are violent, bestial and monstrous, but they express the hidden qualities, the unknown soul of a people. We know very little about the Aframerican soul. The Aframericans are a humiliated and crushed minority in our midst. Here for the first time their soul is revealed to us by an artist of their own who possesses the mighty strength and violence of a Samson. His art is not like the beautiful flower of the cultivated soil of our common culture. It is a strange wild flower. But it is great art. I want you to appreciate it for itself and for its social significance. I want you to take its message like missionaries and spread it far and wide throughout the nation, for it is a part of our national heritage. I thank you.”

  Mr. Magnus Chetwind was awarded a hearty round of applause. Mrs. Abigail Hobison rose and said that Mr. Prudhomme Bishop, the president of the ERA (Equal Rights Action), desired to say something as the representative of the Aframericans.

  Prudhomme Bishop stepped to the desk, adjusted his glasses, posed his mahogany hand on the lapel of his neat gray coat and said: “On behalf of the Aframericans I wish to give thanks to Mrs. Hobison and Mr. Chetwind for their glorious gesture in arranging this reception and exhibition to focus the attention of the elite upon the serious social significance in the work of Dèdé Lee.” (His voice sounded like the tone of the well-worn sole of an old shoe.)

  And Prudhomme Bishop launched forth: “Art is the glory of success and a tribute to the visibility of intelligence and the germs of culture in the crucible of common understanding. It is the yardstick to measure the test of achievement and the honey that sweetens the precious nectar of the beautiful life, when we partake of the melodious wine of the sacrament of human fellowship. For the wine of life is in the comprehension of the bright star of the golden chain, which binds all of humanity in one link.

  “Mr. Lee has marvelously distinguished himself in the artistic designation of Aframerican types to the glory of the educational processes of all Americans. Art is the comprehension of God and humanity is its handiwork. Let God be glorified and humanity worship him among the masterpieces of the beautiful and true.

  “The Aframerican people are ennobled here in this temple of art, where there are no barriers or disqualifications arising from the God-created differences of race and color. Out of the common culture of our American heritage we have raised our musicians and singers and dancers, our poets and novelists, to attain the benevolent standard of your comprehension. But this is the first time we have approached you with the burnt offering of a perfected artist, an expert in the execution of the general character of a race. Ladies and gentlemen of the high places, we thank you.”

  As if they considered his speech more entertaining, the audience accorded Prudhomme Bishop an applause more prolonged than was given Magnus Chetwind. While Bishop was talking Dorsey Flagg was engaged in whispering to the fastidious consort of one of the outstanding Harlem doctors who had accompanied him. He walked over to Abigail Hobison and, handing her his card, exchanged a few words with her. Mrs. Hobison stood up and announced that the chairman of the Hands to Ethiopia would speak briefly. This occasioned sharp whispering among some of the visitors who were supporters of the rival Friends of Ethiopia. Newton Castle hurried from his post against a window to consult with Maxim Tasan.

  But Dorsey Flagg was already speaking. He announced himself as chairman of the Hands to Ethiopia and stated that he was also a professor of history. He said he had not expected to speak, but he was glad of the opportunity and as it was a liberal group he would speak frankly, but with no intention of offending anyone. Then he started:

  “It was certain remarks of Mr. Chetwind that made me wish to speak. Mr. Chetwind is a noble humanitarian who is inte
rested in artists as artists regardless of race and color. He and Mrs. Abigail Hobison should be honored for their helpful interest in the art of Mr. Dèdé Lee. But important things have been said here and elsewhere about Mr. Lee’s work as a representative of the racial group to which he belongs. Now these are times when minority problems, which are always grave, have become acute. These problems are not merely concerned with the social and political status of a minority, but also with their special artistic and literary contributions. In National Socialist Germany, democratic art and literature is proscribed. They have burned books and pictures and destroyed statues and other monuments.

  “The rise to power of National Socialism has focused the mind of the world on the words ‘minority’ and ‘race.’ Some pseudo-scientists would like to abolish the word ‘race,’ because the Nazis have put an evil interpretation upon it. To do that we would have to abolish the phrase ‘human race’ or ‘human species.’ Whatever we may call it, a group of people that has specific biological or social traits in common must be distinguished by a name. I suppose that more than any other region in the world, the United States is a nation of many minorities and each one is distinguished by a name. I would say the United States is a nation of people of different races, and I would describe Japan as a nation of people of one race. I think the minority groups should be very watchful and cautious in their approach to the issue of racism. We cannot deny that racial differences exist and at the same time make demands of minority rights on the basis of race. And this applies specially to the Aframerican group to which I belong. At the same time we will not accept the Nazi definition of race and its idea of the innate superiority of one racial type over the other.

  “Mr. Chetwind made some serious and pointed references about the Aframerican group. It is the largest minority and the greatest problem to the American nation. We are so far and away behind the other minorities that I suspect that when our gallant American writers and speakers indict the Nazis for their harsh treatment of minorities, they forget the existence of the Aframerican minority. Against the threat of Nazism, all minority groups in this country are taking stock of themselves, clearing away encumbering rubbish in their group life, challenging defamers wherever they appear, in the press, in the theatre, in literature and art and at political and even religious meetings. Public men have been censured for adverse statements, newspapers and magazines criticized, theatres boycotted, books withdrawn from circulation, songs suppressed and exhibitions of pictures prohibited. I should have said all minority groups except the Aframerican. More than any group we are daily held up to ridicule in the press, in the motion picture, and in popular magazine and newspaper pictures or drawings and in the theatre. In Congress we are frequently referred to with contempt and in words that are a disgrace to the national seat of government.

  “And now in these drawings exhibited here it appears to me that Aframericans are held up to national opprobrium by a member of their own group. I salute Mr. Dixon Davis Lee as a powerful original artist. I hope he makes money—plenty of money—for artists need money to exist and many Aframerican artists and writers are always hungry. But I cannot agree with Mr. Chetwind that these graphic delineations of certain Aframerican types represent the soul of my people. What soul? It is not the soul of myself or any of the Aframericans here in this gallery. It is not the soul of our brothers and sisters who work for you white folk as porters, errand boys, elevator operators, waiters, cooks and chauffeurs.

  “Mr. Chetwind declares, and I agree with him, that these drawings are violent, bestial and monstrous. They represent the extreme of depravity, imbecility and criminality. I cannot say they are immoral, for to be moral or immoral one must be human. But these Aframerican types are all inhuman. Look at them again and see as I see: colored persons snarling like hounds, posed like baboons in the chain gang, working like zombies in the cotton field, crazy with unreasonable anger. Their sexual attitudes are also shown and I was about to say that they were like wild animals in their sexual life. But the sexual life of animals, though savage and wild, is beautiful. The sexual attitudes of the types depicted here are like that of enraged centaurs or monkeys in the zoo.

  “It puzzles me that many of these pieces are relieved by a white foil and, as you all can see, the features of Mr. Lee’s white people are beautiful, composed and dignified. And then I observe, but I am not sure if you see them as I do—but I observe that Mr. Lee’s blacks have no human features at all. In place of features I find an ugly leer or sneer, a crooked grimace or insane lust.

  “You noble spirits and high-minded critics who denounce Fascismo-Nazism and its racial doctrine as inhuman, you expect my people to accept this distorted exhibition of their race as human. We will not accept it. If we do, then Hitler is right when he says in Mein Kampf that Negroes are half apes. And the South would be certainly correct in its attitude, for such types as these should be quarantined.

  “If such types of pictures or drawings are not good for other persecuted minorities, then they are not good either for the under-privileged Aframerican minority. I suspect that you white people see in these savage delineations what you expect the Aframericans to be because of your vile treatment of them. You experience a vicarious thrill from the artist’s version of the abysmal depravity of others. But we are not like that and we will not be like that. We refuse to accept this exhibition as the interpretation of the Aframerican soul. It is if anything an assault upon the sanctuary of our soul. Praise the work of Mr. Lee for its power, its originality and artistry. But do not try to convince us that of such is the black man’s soul. We need Raphaels to picture the mothers of the race with their children, Millets to show us black workers in the field and Gauguins2 to paint the exquisite beauty of brown flesh.”

  Only the Harlemites cheered Dorsey Flagg, except Newton Castle, who was wholly for Magnus Chetwind’s point of view. Even Seraphine was enthusiastic, even though she was still a little resentful of Flagg. But there was some hissing, which was initiated by Newton Castle, and perhaps this caused Abigail Hobison to clap her hands vigorously, in which she was joined by a few more of the whites.

  Magnus Chetwind endeavored to get Dèdé Lee to speak in defense of himself. But he declined, saying that he had spoken with pencil and paint and that was enough. Thereupon Chetwind held up his hand, signifying that he had something more to say. He said that he had tried to have Dèdé Lee say a word, but he had refused. He conceded that Dorsey Flagg’s objection to some of his remarks might be valid, as he was not on the inside of the Aframerican group to be intimate with the movement of its mind and the stirrings of its soul. But he believed Flagg’s criticism of Dèdé Lee as an artist was unjustifiable, for an artist’s feeling about the soul of his group is not like the layman’s. The artist plumbs more profoundly to the depths, untouched by the ordinary individual. Fortunately Dèdé Lee was born an artist and was self-taught. He was never influenced by the Italian and French masters whom Mr. Flagg reveres, but still he is warmly partial to the works of such masters as Goya, Rembrandt, Frans Hals, and Hogarth, John Sloan and Georg Grosz.3

  Again Magnus Chetwind was rewarded with heavy-handed plaudits from the downtown sophisticates who, more than the fashionable Harlemites, were aware of the significance of what he was talking about.

  21

  “AS BEAUTIFUL AS A JEWEL”

  Maxim Tasan thought that after the pedanticisms of the Interlink’s reception for Dèdé Lee, it would be a nice diversion for a select group of the guests to go to his apartment and take art and life a little easier. Tasan especially wanted Dèdé Lee to go along and, as he was not well acquainted with him, he asked Pat Conman to suggest it. Lee was favorably disposed and Tasan and Conman quickly circulated the idea among certain of the guests.

  Of the Harlem guests only four, who were recommended by Newton Castle, were invited. Tasan was fascinated by the arrestingly chic copper-complexioned Harlem matron who had accompanied Dorsey Flagg. And he sicked Newt
on Castle on to persuade her to desert Flagg and join his group. But as a leader of Harlem’s matrons, the doctor’s wife was a precisely meticulous person regarding her engagements. And she refused to go to Tasan’s party without her escort. Besides, she did not approve the idea of such an improvised party. She preferred one to which she could be formally invited, as she was to the exhibition. Of course, Dorsey Flagg could not be invited.

  On their way to Harlem, the matron laughingly informed Dorsey Flagg of what had been afoot. And Flagg explained to her that they (the Tasan-Castle clique) were adept at employing such dirty tricks to irritate the persons whom they disliked and could not influence.

  Abigail Hobison and Professor Banner Makepeace and other such sedate persons were not asked. But Mrs. Witern went along with Magnus Chetwind and Montague Claxon of the Interlink. The crowd arrived at Tasan’s place in cars and taxicabs. After the intellectual necessity of the enjoyment of art, everybody was ready to appreciate a highball or a cocktail.

  Dandy Nordling was a kind of self-appointed majordomo. He selected the liquor and mixed the drinks and a couple of girls volunteered to help him. Enormously good-natured and eagerly friendly, he circulated around to see that everyone had something to drink and he brought in trays of crackers and caviar, cheese and olives, for those who also wanted a bite. Dandy’s generous activity gave Tasan the chance to act as a guest, which he preferred, instead of a host. He installed himself in a corner to chat with Dèdé Lee and Mrs. Witern.

  But Seraphine Nordling was not in the happiest of humors. As she watched her Nordic husband paying assiduous attention to the needs of all alike, including herself, she was acutely aware of his boyish flexibility. She saw him big and blond and plastic in serving others, happy to be the disciplined member of a party, leaping at the call of so many Tasans, but almost useless to plan and act for himself. She had discovered that he was merely a kind of errand boy in the circulation department of the Labor Herald, ebullient and ready always to speed to any destination, proud of the honor of being called “comrade,” happy to be merely a footman of the great cause.