This issue of The Crisis is, as usual, an incredible read. I am glad to announce that I've gotten a summer fellowship to do a project on The Crisis through the Simpson Center for the Humanities here at UW-Seattle, so I'll have the time and space to do more in-depth work with it this summer. That makes it a little easier to skip so much of it now.
In my ongoing attempt to understand W.E.B. DuBois' editorial practices, I was very excited to find him explaining his process for accepting or rejecting work for the journal in an editorial labeled "Our Policy" on page 134. He reveals that his method is entirely shaped by the magazine's relationship with its readership: "PERSONS who send us clipping contributions and pictures often assume or seem to assume that the acceptance or rejection of articles is purely a personal matter between them and the editor. They forget the Third Person, the Reader." He goes on to explain that his own feelings on a piece are always measured in relation to the reader, even when printing things that are difficult to read:
"If the editor likes the manuscript this is not sufficient reason for publishing it. He must ask : Will the readers like it? If the answer is "yes"—the manuscript is accepted; if it is "no"—then there comes the greater and more difficult question: How far is this something which the readers ought to read despite their likes? How far is it something that they should be educated up to or become intelligent about or aroused over? How far will publication now and in this form induce them to read what they are not willing to read?"
DuBois uses this editorial to split the difference between two kinds of criticism the magazine has received, as he explains that some readers complain that the journal has too much of a political agenda, and others that it has too much entertainment mixed into its politics. That this editorial statement is framed by a photo of a Hatian fighter killed by American troops during the US occupation of Haiti on the one hand, and an account of racially motivated arson on the other, enhances the power of his stated willingness to put before readers things they will not like for educational purposes.
His editorial practices are on full display in another section of the journal: a collection of obituaries for Booker T. Washington, clipped out of papers from all across the country (they start on page 122). It's an amazing portrait of Washington--DuBois contributed his own obituary of Washington in the December issue (if I'm recalling that correctly), but this is an entirely different kind of tribute. By showing Washington from so many angles DuBois shows how powerful Washington's impact was while taking himself out of the picture--though he does crop up in several of the obituaries themselves as Washington's militant foil.
Quick notes:
Football appears in The Crisis, with in-depth coverage of games held between black colleges.
The "Letter Box" contains much correspondence, both in praise and dispraise (but mostly praise) of The Crisis.
I learned about several artists I hadn't heard of before (and apologies to my teachers if I have, but had forgotten!): Jupiter Hammon and Ira Aldridge stood out, among others.
An aside:
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