Brer Rabbit. Uncle Remus. Song of the South. Racist? Disney thinks so. And that's why it has forbidden the theatrical re-release of its classic film Song of the South since 1986. But is the film racist? Are its themes, its characters, even its music so abominable that Disney has done us a favor by burying the movie in its infamous Vault, where the Company claims it will remain for all time? Disney historian Jim Korkis does not think so. In his newest book, Who's Afraid of the Song of the South?, Korkis examines the film from concept to controversy, and reveals the politics that nearly scuttled the project. Through interviews with many of the artists and animators who created Song of the South, and through his own extensive research, Korkis delivers both the definitive behind-the-scenes history of the film and a balanced analysis of its cultural impact. What else would Disney prefer you did not know? Plenty. Korkis also pulls back the curtain on such dubious chapters in Disney history as: Disney's cinematic attack on venereal disease Ward Kimball's obsession with UFOs Tim Burton's depressed stint at the Disney Studios Walt Disney's nightmares about his stomping an owl to death Wally Wood's Disneyland Memorial Orgy poster J. Edgar Hoover's hefty FBI file on Walt Disney Little Black Sunflower's animated extinction Plus 10 more forbidden tales that Disney wishes would go away. Whether you're a film buff, an armchair academic, or a Disney fan eager to peek behind Disney's magical (and tightly controlled) curtain, you'll discover lots you never knew about Disney. With a foreword by Disney Legend Floyd Norman, Who's Afraid of the Song of the South? is both authoritative and entertaining. Jim Korkis is the best-selling author of Vault of Walt, and has been researching and writing about Disney for over three decades. The Disney Company itself uses his expertise for special projects. Korkis resides in Orlando, Florida.

The Magic Kingdom sheds new light on the cultural icon of "Uncle Walt." Watts digs deeply into Disney's private life, investigating his roles as husband, father, and brother and providing fresh insight into his peculiar psyche-his genuine folksiness and warmth, his domineering treatment of colleagues and friends, his deepest prejudices and passions. Full of colorful sketches of daily life at the Disney Studio and tales about the creation of Disneyland and Disney World, The Magic Kingdom offers a definitive view of one of the most influential Americans of the twentieth century.

Originally published in 1867, this book is a collection of songs of African-American slaves. A few of the songs were written after the emancipation, but all were inspired by slavery. The wild, sad strains tell, as the sufferers themselves could, of crushed hopes, keen sorrow, and a dull, daily misery, which covered them as hopelessly as the fog from the rice swamps. On the other hand, the words breathe a trusting faith in the life after, to which their eyes seem constantly turned.

A valuable collection of folk music and lore from the Gullah culture, Slave Songs of the Georgia Sea Islands preserves the rich traditions of slave descendants on the barrier islands of Georgia by interweaving their music with descriptions of their language, religious and social customs, and material culture. Collected over a period of nearly twenty-five years by Lydia Parrish, the sixty folk songs and attendant lore included in this book are evidence of antebellum traditions kept alive in the relatively isolated coastal regions of Georgia. Over the years, Parrish won the confidence of many of the African-American singers, not only collecting their songs but also discovering other elements of traditional culture that formed the context of those songs. When it was first published in 1942, Slave Songs of the Georgia Sea Islands contained much material that had not previously appeared in print. The songs are grouped in categories, including African survival songs; shout songs; ring-play, dance, and fiddle songs; and religious and work songs. In additions to the lyrics and melodies, Slave Songs includes Lydia Parrish's explanatory notes, character sketches of her informants, anecdotes, and a striking portfolio of photographs. Reproduced in its original oversized format, Slave Songs of the Georgia Sea Islands will inform and delight students and scholars of African-American culture and folklore as well as folk music enthusiasts.

A wry and witty commentary on college sports and identity in the complicated social landscape of the South. Ed Southern, lifelong fan of the Wake Forest University Demon Deacons, the smallest school in the NCAA's Power 5, set out to tell the story of how he got tangled, in vines of history and happenstance, with the two giants of his favorite sport: the Crimson Tide and the Clemson Tigers. He set out to tell how a North Carolina native crossed the shifty, unmarked border between Tobacco Road and the Deep South. He set out to tell how the legendary Paul "Bear" Bryant, from beyond the grave, introduced him to his wife, a Birmingham native and die-hard Alabama fan. While he was writing that story, though, 2020 came along. Suddenly his questions had a new and urgent focus: Why do sports mean so much that so many will play and watch them in the face of a global pandemic? How have the South's histories shaped its fervor for college sports? How have college sports shaped how southerners construct their identities, priorities, and allegiances? Why is North Carolina passionate about college basketball when its neighbors to the South live and die by college football? Does this have anything to do with North Carolina's reputation as the most "progressive" southern state, a state many in the Deep South don't think is "really" southern? If college sports really do mean so much in the South, then why didn't everyone down south wear masks or recognize that Black Lives Matter, even after the coaches told us to? Fight Songs explores the connections and contradictions between the teams we root for and the places we plant our roots; between the virtues that sports are supposed to teach and the cutthroat business they've become; between the hopes of fans and the demands of the past, present, and future.