Roark Bradford's 1931 novel and 1939 play dealing with the legendary folk-hero John Henry (both titled John Henry) were extremely influential in their own time, but have since then been nearly forgotten. Steven C. Tracy has united these hard-to-find works in a single critical edition that helps contextualize-and revive-both texts. An expansive introduction explores Bradford's life; recounts critical responses to his works; and surveys John Henry's pervasive influence in folk, literary, and popular culture. The volume also features a wide array of supplementary materials including a selected bibliography and discography, transcriptions of folksong texts and recordings available during the 1930s, and a chronology of the lives of both Bradford and Henry. As Tracy's introduction makes clear, such a consideration of Bradford--set in the context of writers, both black and white, drawing upon African American folklore and using dialects along with stereotypical and non-stereotypical portrayals--is long overdue. This new edition is a windfall for scholars and students of folklore and African American literature.

Even well-meaning fiction writers of the late Jim Crow era (1900-1955) perpetuated racial stereotypes in their depiction of black characters. From 1918 to 1952, Octavus Roy Cohen turned out a remarkable 360 short stories featuring Florian Slappey and the schemers, romancers and ditzes of Birmingham's Darktown for The Saturday Evening Post and other publications. Cohen said, "I received a great deal of mail from Negroes and I have never found any resentment from a one of them." The black readership had to be satisfied with any black presence in the popular literature of the day. The best known white writers of black characters included Booth Tarkington (Herman and Verman in the Penrod books), Irvin S. Cobb (Judge Priest's houseman Jeff Poindexter), Roark Bradford (Widow Duck, the plantation matriarch), Hugh Wiley (Wildcat Marsden, the war veteran who traveled the country in the company of his goat) and Charles Correll and Freeman Gosden (radio's Amos 'n' Andy). These writers deservedly declined in the civil rights era, but left a curious legacy that deserves examination. This book, focusing on authors of series fiction and particularly of humorous stories, profiles 29 writers and their black characters in detail, with brief entries covering 72 others.

After the Civil War, Emancipation purportedly brought physical freedom to African Americans. As the nineteenth century drew to a close, blacks continued to experience inequality in all phases of American life—social, cultural, political, and economic. In pursuit of equality, African American movements interpreted folklore to reveal in their rhetoric the soul of a race and a path toward civilization. This book provides a comprehensive chronicle of these competing initiatives and their reception starting with the folklore society organized by Hampton Institute in 1893 and continuing through the early 1940s with the American Negro Academy, Fisk University graduates, William Hannibal Thomas, the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, the Urban League, the Friends of Negro Freedom, the Universal Negro Improvement Association, and blacks associated with the Communist Party USA. Disavowing a culture of fear, money, guns, and death, black folklorists in these movements exposed a racial inner life ranging from loving, loyal, and happy to imitative, tragic, spiritual, emotional, and creative. Each characterization of the race justified a distinct path and possible contributions to civilization. If unable to know their past, members of the movements and other folklorists were fearful that African Americans would be an anomaly among humanity.

Recounting past events is intrinsic to the storytelling function, as most fiction assumes the past tense as the natural means of narrating a story. Few narratives draw attention to this process, yet others make the act of remembering a primary part of the narrative situation. Ranging in its focus from poetry to novels, autobiographical memoirs and biopics – from the ostensibly fictional to the implicitly real – this volume discusses the extent to which such fictional acts of remembering are also acts of rewriting the past to suit the needs of the present. How seamlessly does experience yield to the ordering strictures of narrative and what is at stake in the process? What must be omitted or stylised, and to what (ideological) end? In making an artefact of the past, what role does artifice play, and what does this process also tell us about history-making?

"Charlie Patton (1891-1934) was born in central Mississippi. By 1908, he had begun his performing career, initially at small house parties, then at barrelhouses and other settings that could accommodate a hundred people or more. Until his death in 1934, Patton was a top draw for the numerous African Americans then living and working in the Delta. In 1929 and 1930, he recorded several hits for Paramount Records, on the basis of which he was sought by the American Record Company in January 1934 for what would be his last recordings. He was immensely influential to other bluesmen, including Tommy Johnson, Kid Bailey, Robert Johnson, and Howlin' Wolf. Since 1991, his collected recordings have been available to the wider public. This book was previously published in 1988 under the authorship of Wardlow (b. 1940) and Calt (1946-2010). Its sole printing of 3,000 paperback copies sold out within seven years, and since 1988 additional recordings of Patton and his associates have been recovered and widely reissued to the public, particularly on Jack White's Third Man Records. Komara (b. 1966) has updated Wardlow and Calt's original edition and has written a new afterword discussing a resurgence of Delta-blues-style rock and the continuing influence of Patton and the music genre he helped pioneer"--

"Stanly Has A Lynching" examines the ways in which the media as well as religious, political and social institutions have used ballads, fiction and folklore tales for over a century to celebrate, rather than condemn, the brutal lynching of a white man, Alexander Whitley, in 1892. How men in a small town in North Carolina justified this act of murder as "Just Desert" -- before, during and after the event -- is exposed when facts, rather than fiction, are brought into focus. Through her research and analysis, Ms. Hartsell demonstrates how a family legacy was tainted by a fabricated folktale embedded in religious motif. Many newspaper accounts from the 1800's help tell the story, conveying aspects of southern history and Lynch Culture not often found in textbooks.