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Alison Stewart: You're listening to All Of It on WNYC. I'm Alison Stewart. This year marks the 100th birthday of literary legend James Baldwin, a New York native, novelist, playwright, essayist, public speaker, and civil rights activist. He is one of America's most significant intellectual figures. Born August 2nd, 1924, Baldwin was not afraid to talk about the topics that most people were ready to sweep under the rug, from racism to queerness to questions of faith. New exhibits at the Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture and the Polonsky Exhibition at the New York Public Library's Treasures provide an insight into the life, work, and creative process of Baldwin. The Schomburg exhibit is titled JIMMY! God’s Black Revolutionary Mouth, and features some of Baldwin's earliest writings from high school, and early notes for his first novel, Go Tell It on the Mountain, and the display at the main branch of the Public Library is titled James Baldwin: Mountain to Fire. It features photographs and manuscripts, including a very illuminating early draft of Giovanni's Room. Both exhibits are part of the larger New York Public Library effort to celebrate Baldwin's life and legacy, celebrating 100 years of James Baldwin. Both are open now, and they're free to the public.

Joining me now to discuss is Barrye Brown, Schomburg Center Curator of Manuscripts, Archives, and Rare Books, and the curator of JIMMY! God’s Black Revolutionary Mouth. Hi, Barrye.

Barrye Brown: Hi, Alison. How's it going?

Alison Stewart: It's going forward, and Charles Carter is the curator of the James Baldwin: Mountain to Fire. Hi, Charles.

Charles Carter: Hi. How are you?

Alison Stewart: I'm doing well. Listeners, we want to hear from you. What was the first time you read or listened to James Baldwin? What impression did he leave on you? What impression did his work leave on you? What was your favorite James Baldwin work? Or did you ever meet or interact with Baldwin before his death? Give us a call, 212-433-9692, 212-433-WNYC. You can text that number or you can call it, or you can reach out on social media @allofitwnyc.

Barrye, when was the first time you encountered a work of James Baldwin?

Barrye Brown: My first time encountering Baldwin was when I was a college sophomore. The first book that I ever read was The Fire Next Time. And I would say that the essay that stood out to me the most was A Letter to My Nephew.

Alison Stewart: Why did that stand out to you the most?

Barrye Brown: It really spoke to what it means to be Black in America. That's when I knew that James Baldwin was someone that I needed to read more of as a college student. I wondered why I had not read Baldwin before that time in college, because Baldwin was really telling a lot of hard truths about being Black in America. I think that that's what stood out to me the most.

Alison Stewart: Charles, what was your first encounter with James Baldwin?

Charles Carter: The first James Baldwin book I read was Giovanni's Room. I was a junior in college, and I was a closeted young gay person, and I signed up for a class on queer lit. I was totally scared, totally nervous about who would see that I was involved in this class. Totally scared, but James Baldwin was on the syllabus. Giovanni's Room was the second book we read after Audre Lorde saw me, a new spelling of my name. Pretty good syllabus the teacher had there.

In Giovanni's Room, it was the first novel that I read that really treated same-sex relationships, although it's not at all a happy story. It treats this relationship between two men with an authenticity and a respect that was published in 1956. Certainly, a very early instance of this kind of respect and authenticity for those kinds of relationships. I certainly had not read a book like that, so it was very important to me in terms of queer representation at a really important moment of my life.

Alison Stewart: Barrye, how did the library acquire so many of Baldwin's papers, writings, early drafts?

Barrye Brown: It was James Baldwin's dying wish for his papers to come to the Schomburg Center. This was his home library growing up. He was born right here in Harlem, right across the street from the Schomburg Center at Harlem Hospital. He visited the predecessor to the Schomburg Center, the 135th Street Branch Library, quite often as a child. He's quoted as saying that he visited that library at least three or four times a week, and that he read every book in this library. He had a very, very close relationship with this library location. Yes, I think that's why he wanted his legacy to be deposited here. After James Baldwin died in 1987, it took quite some time to really discuss with the family, but the papers eventually made their way here 30 years after his death in 2017, which is when the Schomburg acquired the papers and made them available to researchers.

Alison Stewart: Let's talk to Jerry from Larchmont. Hi, Jerry. Thank you so much for calling into All Of It.

Jerry: Hi. The first time that I encountered Baldwin, I was 15 years old, working in Lower Manhattan, West 27th Street, and I had a break, sitting in a basement, and I started reading the Notes of a Native Son. It was revelatory. I went to a high school that was mostly Jewish, so most of the students were white. Some were Greek. There were a few Chinese, and the others were African American or West Indian.

Baldwin's work, he was so clear. He was so on point and direct. I loved his language, and I loved his ability to manage the essay as an art form. I was taking AP French at the time. We were reading Montaigne. I was able to get a sense of the essay as an art form. I later read Giovanni's Room in Russian because it wasn't allowed. I was living in Moscow. It wasn't allowed in Moscow at the time. It was translated from French. Giovanni's Room was astounding to me.

Alison Stewart: Jerry, thank you so much for calling in. I think we lost you on that call. Charles, I wanted to ask about some of the exhibits that we get to see. There is this piece. I think it's in the Schomburg exhibit actually. It says, "His nickname is Baldy." [chuckles]

Charles Carter: Yes. That's his high school yearbook, yes. James Baldwin went to DeWitt Clinton in the Bronx, where many illustrious people who ended up being very famous went. On his yearbook page, his quotation is, "Fame is the Spur And—Ouch!" It's in part reference to an Alexander Pope quote, but I think there was also a famous book that came out around that time called Fame Is the Spur.

It's an indication that from very early on, this young man knew that he was destined for something big. Even when he was a little kid and a very precocious child who was encouraged by really important teachers, he had this idea of himself in the future as being special and important. He knew that he wanted to be a writer from very early on. His teacher, when he was just in grade school, helped him put on his first written play. It was staged by his classmates. He wrote the school song. He was just this unbelievably talented young man, who through the encouragement of teachers, acquired this belief in himself that really propelled him through what was quite a difficult youth in Harlem in the 1930s for a young Black man.

Alison Stewart: Barrye, in the Schomburg exhibit is a journal, The Magpie, from DeWitt Clinton High School in the Bronx. He was editor-in-chief of that publication. What themes or topics seem to be on his mind as a young man?

Barrye Brown: In the 1942 winter edition of The Magpie, that is what they call the patriotic edition. Those are during the war years. A lot of themes, like in that particular issue, is about the war and reflections on the war, but in terms of Baldwin's contributions to that particular issue of The Magpie, it really runs the gamut. What I really find so very fascinating about Baldwin, especially like as a young person, Charlie kind of alluded to it, but he's really offering, like a very wide range of genres. He's experimenting with poetry. He's experimenting with short stories, interviews.

In that particular issue, he interviews Countee Cullen, who was one of his teachers in junior high school at Frederick Douglass Junior High School, but also Countee Cullen was an alum of DeWitt Clinton High School. A lot of the poetry, there are some themes of race. There are also some themes of faith as well. Yes, it just really runs the gamut there. It's really interesting. It's like Baldwin was thinking about a lot of things and experimenting with many different genres of the written word. Again, just a very bright and talented young person.

Alison Stewart: Let's talk to Maria from New Jersey. Hi, Maria. Thanks for calling.

Maria: Hi, Alison. I wanted to say that for me, as a Latina, I'm part of the Puerto Rican diaspora, James Baldwin, as well as Malcolm X and Pablo Neruda, are three of the most inspiring minds of the 20th century. What I like particularly about Baldwin is every time that I see his videos and listen to his speeches, he just presents a view of humanity, and especially African Americans, in a way that galvanizes me as a person and as individual. In my book, the measure of success is how much you impact other people, and Baldwin is at the top.

Alison Stewart: Thank you so much for calling. My guests are Barrye Brown and Charles Carter. We're talking about the exhibits as part of the New York Public Library celebration of 100 years of James Baldwin. We'll have more after a quick break. This is All Of It.

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You're listening to All Of It on WNYC. I'm Alison Stewart. I'm speaking with Barrye Brown, curator of JIMMY! God’s Black Revolutionary Mouth at the Schomburg Center, and Charles Carter, curator of James Baldwin: Mountain to Fire. You can see that at the main branch. These exhibits are part of the New York Public Library celebration of 100 years of James Baldwin.

The troubled relationship between Baldwin and his stepfather was a clear source of anguish throughout Baldwin's life, especially in his early years. Charles, how does that come through in both his public and private writings?

Charles Carter: Well, it's present just about all through the entirety of his oeuvre, and it starts with Go Tell It on the Mountain, which is probably his most autobiographical novel. He, just like John Grimes in the novel, right around the age 14, was sort of at a crossroads where he was deciding, am I going to follow into my father, into the life of the church, or am I going to branch out on my own and follow my own sort of artistic desires and inclinations?

Right there, from the beginning, struggling with his relationship with his father was present right in the novel. We see this in the manuscript that's on display. Actually, the manuscript from Go Tell It on the Mountain that's on display shows the part of the novel where John Grimes is walking, actually in front of the New York Public Library building. His relationship with the New York Public Library was so strong, that it ends up in his first book even. Definitely the themes of dealing with his father's death, it was something that he worked on throughout the rest of his life.

Alison Stewart: Barrye, he was born in Harlem. He went to school in the Bronx. What are some ways you can tell that Baldwin was a New Yorker?

Barrye Brown: Oh, my gosh. I think that all throughout his life, Baldwin is very much like a tried and true New Yorker. Certainly, like in the exhibition, Jimmy, you can see that through every case. It highlights every aspect of his literary career and legacy, but certainly, like in particular, his childhood, and his roots certainly. Also, in looking through the correspondence, but also photographs of Baldwin with his family, he often traveled back and forth between Paris and New York.

You could get a sense that he really was recharged, like every time that he would come back to New York, every time that he would come back to Harlem, in particular, to spend time with his family, and Charlie and I actually got a chance to hear some of that firsthand from one of his nephews, Karim Karefa, talked about how Baldwin, really got energy every time he came back to New York. These little elements that you see here and there throughout his papers, the correspondence, but also photographs, and that's certainly something that I think that comes out in really both exhibitions.

Alison Stewart: Charles, what can we learn about Baldwin's writing and editing from looking at the various drafts that people can see at the library?

Charles Carter: I think one of the most compelling aspects of seeing any writer's manuscripts on display is being able to trace their sort of authorial decisions, being able to see their writer's mind at work. We definitely see this with Baldwin. And what we learn is that he is very precise in terms of his decision making. One of the sort of flashiest ways that this is on display in Mountain to Fire at the 42nd Street Library is with the epigraph page from Giovanni's Room. It's the title page and with an epigraph.

He starts with a typed quote from the biblical Book of Job. I'm sure it has a certain resonance with the book, but its implications may be not totally clear on the surface. Well, he crosses through that, and writes in another quote from the Book of Job, and then decides that this is not what he wants either. Crosses through that, and then in very big, almost crayon like, some kind of writing implement, I think it's either a fat pencil or a crayon, he decides that his quote is going to be from Whitman, "I am the man, I suffered, I was there."

Of course, in the 1950s, Whitman was already very much sort of like a signifier of queerness. Men would carry a copy of Leaves of Grass as a sort of a secret indicator that they were gay. He was on the title page. We're seeing him build up through, starting with Job, and then finally arriving at Whitman. He's building up the courage to be bold enough to quote Whitman on the title page, and thereby sort of being out right at the beginning to those who are paying attention.

Alison Stewart: Let's talk to Jojo, calling in from Montclair. Hi, Jojo. Thanks for calling All Of It.

Jojo: Hello, Alison, how are you? First time caller. I was introduced to James Baldwin when I was in boarding school in England when I was about 17 or 16 years old, and I happened to be in a relationship with a girl at the time. You can imagine that was like the biggest sin ever. My first book was Go Tell It on the Mountain, which I found so incredibly profound, and it captured everything that I was feeling but, of course, his writing was just so incredible, the way he got into the crevices of people's minds. I thought of my father. I made sure my father read that book. Then I read Giovanni's Room, and I was completely blown away. How could this man get into mind like this? It's just so profound, his writing. He's one of my favorite writers of all time, completely changed my life reading these books. I just wanted to share that.

Alison Stewart: Jojo, thank you so much for calling. Barrye, at the Schomburg, there's these great images of him with his friends. There's also a letter that he wrote to Lorraine Hansberry. I'm going to read a little bit of it. I took a picture. It says, "My dear Lorraine: a very particular favor but please don't do it if you don't want to. Some people can be read to and others can't, so I'll understand. But I'm finally really reaching the end of this monstrous opus of mine," and he goes on to say, "Would you please read it?" Did he worry about his writing?

Barrye Brown: Absolutely, and that's certainly something that comes out in a lot of his correspondence with his closest friends in social circle. Lorraine Hansberry, for example, the letter that you just read, he was asking for her feedback on another country, which he referred to as a grim, interracial romance. I think he called it that. He really valued her thoughts and opinion as another Black writer. He often expressed, like a concern and an anxiousness. There's another letter that is on display in JIMMY! where he's writing to his dear friend Maya Angelou. It's a similar sentiment.

He and Maya Angelou were like brother and sister In this two-page letter, he's pouring his heart out to Maya Angelou. He's telling her all the things that he's been working on simultaneously. I think he said he had just turned in the devil finds work manuscript. He was waiting for his first and only children's book, Little Man Little Man, to be published, but he was just starting on just above my head, which we now know to be his last novel.

In the letter, he talks about how scared he was to even start, like this next project, which for me, I thought to myself. I was like, "This is incredible." I was like, "This is James Baldwin." I was like, "He is a brilliant genius to me." How is he so afraid, and how is he anxious and nervous? he was a person just like you and I, so he certainly had those feelings sometimes of doubt, like about his work, and again, reaching out to his friends, his loved ones, that really gave him that encouragement and support that he needed to continue in his writing. I think those instances, and the correspondence, like it's really wonderful to see that, and to see the relationship between Black writers. I really love that.

Alison Stewart: You can see All Of It at the Schomburg and at the main branch of the Public Library. My guests have been Barrye Brown, as well as Charles Carter. Thank you so much for joining us.

Charles Carter: Thank you.

Barrye Brown: Thank you so much for having us.

Charles Carter: It's a pleasure.

Alison Stewart: Now to go out, let's hear a bit of Baldwin in his own voice, reading his own work. We're going to hear Baldwin reading a selection from his 1962 novel, Another Country. The book is set in Harlem, Greenwich Village in France. The novel tells the story of a Black, bisexual jazz drummer named Rufus Scott, whose life begins to unravel after he falls in love with a white woman named Leona. This is Baldwin reading a section of the novel, which begins with Rufus, entering the subway.

James Baldwin: "Rufus stood at the subway steps, looking down. For a wonder, especially at this hour, there was no one on the steps. The steps were empty. He wondered if the man in the booth would change his $5 bill. He started down. Then as the man gave him change and he began to move toward the turnstile, other people came, rushing and loud, pushing past him as though they were swimmers, and he nothing but an upright pole in the water."

"Then something began to awaken in him, something new. It increased his distance. It increased his pain. They were rushing to the platform, to the tracks. Something he had not thought of for many years, something he had never ceased to think of came back to him as he walked behind the crowd. The subway platform was a dangerous place, so he had always thought."

"It sloped downward toward the waiting tracks, and when he had been a little boy and stood on the platform beside his mother, he had not dared let go her hand. He stood on the platform now, alone with all these people, who were each of them alone and waited in a quiet calmness for the train. But suppose something somewhere failed and the yellow lights went out and no one could see any longer the platform's edge. Suppose these beams fell down."

He saw the train in the tunnel rushing underwater. The motorman gone mad, gone blind, unable to decipher the lights, and the tracks gleaming and snarling senselessly upward forever. The train never stopping and the people screaming at windows and doors and turning on each other with all the accumulated fury of their blasphemed lives. Everything gone out of them but murder, breaking limb from limb, and splashing in blood with joy."

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