PART 1 OF 3 MAY 12 - 15, 2019 "THE CENTRE CANNOT HOLD" THE YEAR 1919
ROCKWELL KENT WILDERNESS CENTENNIAL JOURNAL
100 YEARS LATER
by Doug Capra © 2018-19
May 12-15 , 2019
"THE CENTRE CANNOT HOLD"
ABOVE -- The lake behind Kent's cabin on Fox Island on June 5, 2006. The silence at this place can be deafening. "These are the times in life -- when nothing happens --," Kent writes in Wilderness about this spot, "but in quietness the soul expands." This was the core of the "quiet" adventure that Kent experienced in Alaska. Capra photo.
…the centre cannot hold…
Rockwell Kent’s (and
Rockie’s) drawings at the Knoedler Gallery exhibit are a stunning success. All
four of Rockie’s sell as well as most of Rockwell’s. The drawings showed our way
of life, Kent wrote in his autobiography, a father and his little son’s; they showed, or hinted at, the natural
splendors of the world that we had lived in and revealed to some degree how it
had moved us. They showed us at our simple daily chores; they showed the
happiness our daily lives afforded us. They showed a life that was consistent
with the soul of Man, his innate goodness, his deep love of peace. Yes, in a
world envenomed with the bitterness that war had bred, they spoke of peace. And
the thousands who saw the drawings knew their voice to be a true one, for it
was as an echo from their own primordial past.
Like a religious
mystic or a monk, Kent transforms all the negative energy he dumped upon
Kathleen in his letters into what he describes above -- the wholesomeness and
simplicity of living embedded within natural splendors -- the resulting happiness
and peace. And if there ever was a time in American history when this country
craved these values, it was in 1919. It is no surprise his drawings resonated
deeply with the art world and the American public. There are historical moments
that coincide with personal events for artists and writers, crucial times when
their works overlap the public consciousness. This was one of those momentous
periods for Rockwell Kent. Both the drawings in 1919 -- and the next year, Wilderness and the Alaska paintings -- reverberated within the hearts and souls of an America longing for a lost
world. It’s no accident that the W.B. Yeats poem, The Second Coming, was published in 1919:
Turning
and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
BELOW – Warren G.
Harding was elected President on a promise that he’d get the country back to
normal. That’s what much of the public wanted. As a new world is born and
former values and beliefs are demolished, there’s a tendency for nostalgia.
When Wilderness: A Journal of Quiet
Adventure in Alaska was published in 1920, a critic commented upon one of
its drawings, titled Meal Time. As
the social and political gyre widened, people were grasping to hold on to the
center.
The
Great War was over and the influenza epidemic raged on. The world would never
be the same. Like airborne seeds, most new ideas that stirred debate, violence
and excessive reaction after the war had been disbursed earlier. Some were so
radical for the times that they demanded a purging before they could find
fertile ground. The Great War in many respects wiped the slate clean of the 19th
century. In his Columbia
University Phd. Dissertation, Uphill All the
Way: The Fortunes of Progressivism, 1919-1929, Kevin C. Murphy
wrote: The failures at Versailles and the rejection of the
League of Nations would have been enough to send a generation of progressives
into a slough of despond. But these foreign policy events, disillusioning as
they were, did not happen in a vacuum. They took place during what was, aside
from the Civil War and arguably the late 1960’s, the most tumultuous two-year
period in American history. From strikes and bombings to raids, race riots, and
repression, America erupted into confusion and hysteria in 1919 and 1920. Those
hoping for a progressive post-war reconstruction saw their plans, and their
nation, disintegrate into chaos.
In
Our Times, his classic five-volume
history of the U.S. between 1900 and 1925 (written between 1925 and 1935) journalist
Mark Sullivan has difficulty explaining how people felt after the Great War. Using
an expression of the times to say the world was now cock-eyed, just didn’t do it. Even Shakespeare’s the time is out of joint wasn’t enough.
It was more as if the world was half-blind,
half-deaf, and chronically dazed. Using a term that came out of that
devastating war itself came closer to the truth. The world was shell-shocked. The earth’s psyche had gone over the top metaphorically, to
face a barrage of machine gun fire, heavy artillery, and poison gas. As
Sullivan struggles to explain, he says the world was wounded, but permanently. He says it was a fundamental alteration from which we would never go back.
Gender
roles were rapidly changing and many men were uneasy. The women’s suffrage
movement had been active for decades. With numerous men involved with the war
after the U.S. entered in April 1917, women experienced new freedoms in the
workforce. Some women themselves had direct roles in the war effort with the
Red Cross, as Army nurses, or has “Hello Girls” (telephone operators). The
Nineteenth Amendment to the Constitution giving women the right to vote had
been passed by Congress on June 4, 1919 and ratified on August 18th. With a Presidential election coming up in
1920, how would all these new voters influence the outcome? No one knew for
sure, which created insecurity and tension. On Nov. 24, 1919 the Seward Gateway editorialized: Women are likely to decide who shall be President
in 1920. Hence the politicians wail about the “uncertainty” of all things. This
was said with much irony – for Alaska had given women the vote in 1913.
In
1919 four million workers nationwide were involved in a wave of strikes. Returning
soldiers competed for jobs with laborers advocating for unions, many of whom
were foreigners. A series of race riots and lynching’s occurred that summer as
the Ku Klux Klan revived. J. Edgar Hoover and Attorney General A. Mitchell
Palmer campaigned against foreigners and left-wing associations. Unions
everywhere were suspect. In the spring of 1919 the teachers’ union in the
District of Columbia had to defend itself for calling its organization a council because the Bolshevists in
Russia used that word in their propaganda.
The fact that there were many town and city councils nationwide didn’t seem to matter. As Rockwell Kent
welcomed in the new year on Fox Island, if he could have read the daily newspapers,
he would have noticed one word filling the headlines: “Strike!”
Jan. 9 – New York harbor workers strike.
Jan. 9 – New York harbor workers strike.
Jan.
21 – 35,000 young female garment workers in New York strike demanding a 44-hour
work week and a 15 percent pay increase.
Feb.
6 – Call for a general strike in Seattle in support of striking shipbuilders,
an action that was sure to hurt Alaska.
Feb.
17 – 86,000 packers threaten to strike.
March
12 – Rather than face violence, at 6 p.m. officials shut down all public rail
transportation for 141 New Jersey cities and towns after their 4500 workers
walked off the job at 4 a.m.
April
11 – Railroad workers demand higher pay.
July
17 – 30,000 cigar makers strike in New York City.
July
18 – 30,000 construction workers locked out in Chicago.
August
1 – 70,000 Chicago railroad shop men walked out. Public transportation partially
paralyzed when street-car, elevated and subway workers strike in Boston and
Chicago.
While
Kent is anxiously awaiting Olson’s return from Seward with the mail (between Jan.
2 and Feb. 11) the New York Times on Feb. 7 notes the labor situation in Seattle.
Because of the International Workers of the World (I.W.W., nicknamed Wobblies)
the city has become a hot-bed of insurrection on the West Coast. Wobbly labor leaders sponsored a series of
“lightning strikes” during the war. The government tried to work with labor --
content workers were needed for mobilization. The Unions made many gains during
that time, but after the war business owners wanted to get back to the way it
was. The unions, however, weren’t about to give in. Now they wanted even more.
Most of their demands are considered standard fare today.In Seattle on January
16, 1919, forty-six Wobblies were convicted of “attempting to obstruct the
American war effort.” Five hundred I.W.W. protesters were dispersed by 20,000
police followed by five cars with police armed with carbines leading a platoon
of police with clubs. On Jan. 21, 25,000 shipyard workers struck and the
Seattle Central Labor Council voted for a general strike. This was the first
general strike in the nation’s history. It included everyone from theatrical
workers to school janitors, elevator operators to truck drivers, barbers to
newsboys – and it terrified Americans. Was this the beginning of the Bolshevik
revolution in this country? Labor had shut down Seattle – and any Seattle
crisis like this was bound to affect Alaska in many ways. Kent would perhaps
only learn of this even when he eventually read the Seward newspapers in late
February. Seattle Mayor Ole Hanson called in the army. Within twenty-four
hours, 800 troops occupied the city. Thirty miles away in Tacoma two more
battalions and a machine-gun company waited for orders. A thousand extra police
soon joined the forces and Mayor Hanson threatened to hire ten thousand
more. The mayor, the army, the press and
the public all agreed that “the strike was a Red plot to establish a Bolshevik
beachhead in America.” By Feb. 8th – 75,000 workers had joined the
general strike and faced soldiers with fixed bayonets and machine guns. By Feb.
10th, the movement had disintegrated and strikers went back to work.
Mayor Hanson quickly became a national hero. Seattle’s general strike
represented the opening salvo in a year of similar work actions that continued
through the winter, spring and summer. People were suspicious of anything
foreign or what would broadly be considered un-American.
Just as Rockwell Kent arrives home, during
April and June 1919, several bombings shocked the nation. Anarchists like Luigi
Galleani wanted to instigate revolution not only by encouraging class warfare
but also through violence. They targeted leaders like John D. Rockefeller and
Attorney General A. Mitchell Palmer. These activities melded in the public’s
mind with strikes and labor unions. Any kind of progressive movement came under
suspicion as Bolshevik inspired. A poem by Edmund Vance Cooke circulated wildly
in various 1919 publications captured how many felt:
You
believe in votes for women? Yah!
The
Bolsheviki do. And shorter hours? And land reforms?
They’re
Bolshevistic, too.
“The
Recall” and other things like that,
Are
dangerous to seek; Don’t tell me you belive’em or I’ll
Call
you Bolshevik!
Bolshevik!
Veek! Veek!
A
reformer is a freek! But here’s a name to stop him, for it’s
Like
a lightening streak!
PART TWO
IN THE NEXT ENTRY
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