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A Black National Anthem? Pat Boone A black National Anthem? Have I sometimes seemed a little harsh? A little strident? Have I raised my voice, veins standing out on my neck, face flushed, sounding like one of those argumentative types who try to shout others down on the political talk shows? If so, I apologize. Our republic would benefit enormously right now from greater civility among its citizens. Though we have deep differences on serious topics, we don't accomplish much, if anything, by yelling and belittling each other. I was encouraged (and instructed) recently by the example of the young lady who opened a bag of peanuts she'd just bought at Wal-Mart – and discovered a new condom! These days, she could well have contacted a contingency-fee or publicity-loving lawyer and sued Wal-Mart for millions.
Well, she didn't sue; she didn't even blame the good folks at her local Wal-Mart. Accidents happen, and she let it go at that. What a champ! Millions of us raised our voices all over this country in defense of Terri Schiavo, pleading to let her parents have custody of their own daughter so she might not starve to death.
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In some cases, on national television and in press conferences, we were shouted down. And the world watched while the young woman was subjected to a slow, dragged out execution that wouldn't have been permitted on a cat or dog ... or, as just demonstrated here in California, on someone sentenced to die by lethal injection. All our high-decibel harangues accomplished nothing. And now, punctuating Black History Month, a needlessly harsh controversy has resurfaced over referring to "Lift Every Voice and Sing," as the "Black National Anthem."
A beautiful and evocative song written in 1900 by James Weldon Johnson, "Lift Every Voice and Sing" packs an emotional, lump-in-the-throat wallop for me; I love it. I think any American who still loves this country should appreciate it. Whether or not it ever is an official "anthem" for any particular group of us, we all can and should "lift our voices and sing" our pride in our history, our devotion to our country – and each other.
And I guess that's my point. Let's not get all riled up about this. Personally, as one who's been involved in many ways through the years in addressing racial prejudice – in music, in writing, on television and in numerous career decisions – I question the advisability of another "national anthem" representing any particular group of our citizens. Though I applaud the motive of racial and cultural pride, I'm apprehensive about anything that would seem to promote separatism or even – curiously – a new form of segregation. I loved it when Jesse Jackson toured the nation's schools, addressing countless classrooms of young black students, urging the kids to proclaim with gusto, "I am somebody!" There was about this, I felt, an encouragement toward self-esteem, of worthwhile black identity, that was positive – and not negative toward anybody else. It made diversity a source of pride, not prejudice. But still, especially at this time of year, I keep hearing Dr King's own words: "I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character." Isn't that really what he was trying to accomplish, what his eloquent speeches and all the marches, and yes – his very life's blood – were devoted to? A coming together in real equality, under one flag, one Constitution, one all-inclusive national anthem? I say again, I love "Lift Every Voice." And every black American should sing it proudly and hopefully. In fact, I'll sing it with you. I may even record it – though if I do, I'll risk the same criticism I've endured for having dared to record songs like "Tutti Frutti" and "Ain't That a Shame" in the beginning of my career. It's been argued that I was somehow stealing something from Little Richard and Fats Domino, my friends, when I recorded their songs (which had already been R&B hits for them); though I have interview tapes at home in which they declare how glad they were when I did their songs, because they knew a much larger audience would hear them than had been the case, back when the radio business mirrored the racism of those days. There was a happy synergy in our relationship musically – and our mutual careers flourished. How about referring to "Lift Every Voice" as the "Black American Anthem," and not "National" Anthem? Nothing wrong with that, I would suggest, though it may inspire a "Chinese American Anthem," a Korean one, a Mexican ... Portuguese ... You get the idea. The night Martin Luther King was shot dead in Memphis, I was in Baltimore, glued to the TV and crying my eyes out. All the channels were playing the tapes of his speeches, especially the dramatic one on the mall that historic day in Washington. The next day, on my flight home, I kept my face turned to the window, still stifling tears, and I molded Dr King's words into a gospel melody (which I felt was appropriate for a man who was first and foremost a minister). Feeling so strongly about it, I've recorded the song three times, in different musical modes. I've learned that it's been orchestrated and often gets performed by college and church choirs. Though you can't hear the melody here, in the closing days of Black History Month I close with his words from "I Had A Dream":
I had a dream that thrilled my soul. Amen, Dr. King.
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