By Ruth Terry
Broadcast version by Nadia Ramlagan
Reporting for the YES! Magazine Media-Tennessee News Service Collaboration
NASHVILLE, Tenn -- Conversations about race and racism in the United States abound. Whether via social, corporate and independent media, or educational, medical and political institutions, or in the privacy of our homes, Americans are talking about race. Some may say we're becoming more racially literate. However, one area of the topic that remains taboo, even despite this past summer's release of The New York Times 1619 Project, is slavery.
When talking about race in many spaces, the legacy of enslaving millions of Africans for nearly two-and-a-half centuries is often avoided. If brought up, even among some of the most "woke," there is often the prod to "move on from that." But as this particular history is key to understanding so much of our current reality - from persistent income and education gaps to the increasing wealth divide, and gaping health disparities, we all would benefit by knowing as much about it as we can.
For volunteer divers with Diving With a Purpose, a nonprofit founded in 2003 to train divers to document slave shipwrecks, that journey of understanding starts with what storyteller and diver Tara Roberts calls "the origin story for Africans in the Americas" - known to many as the Middle Passage.
From 1514 to 1866, slave ships traced about 36,000 voyages from Africa to the Americas, severing ancestral ties for millions of Africans, forcefully jumbling myriad ethnic and tribal affiliations, and changing the face of relationships worldwide.
The Washington Post reported that as many as 1,000 of these ships may have ended as wrecks, but only a few, including the Henrietta Marie, the São José, and, last year, the Clotilda, have been conclusively identified.
The Guerrero Project
Diving With a Purpose formed as a result of the search for another vessel, the Guerrero.
The Spanish pirate ship carrying 561 kidnapped Africans is believed to have crashed in the seas of Biscayne National Park off the coast of Florida.
Members of the National Association of Black Scuba Divers, including Diving With a Purpose founder Ken Stewart, were asked to participate in the 2004 documentary, "The Guerrero Project," that explained the dramatic events leading up to the wreck.
Biscayne maritime archeologist Brenda Lanzendorf, also featured in the film, found herself emotionally invested in finding the Guerrero. But, per federal mandate, she needed to identify and document more than 40 other wrecks underwater within the 173,000-acre park, too. As the only diver on staff, Lanzendorf, who died in 2008, needed help.
Lanzendorf and Stewart struck a deal. She would train other black divers in maritime archaeology techniques, such as mapping shipwrecks, artifact identification and documentation with the intent that they would continue teaching others, explained Erik Denson, Diving With a Purpose board member.
"Our eventual goal was to participate in a search for the Guerrero, to actually find that slave ship," he said. "It was just kind of a win-win situation."
They never got a positive ID on the Guerrero, but in the 15 years since Diving With a Purpose was founded, the nonprofit, which began with only three divers, has trained more than 300 adult and youth divers.
Graduates receive Archaeology Survey Diver certification through the Professional Association of Dive Instructors, a higher-level PADI certification that allows divers to participate in wreck dives as citizen archeologists and positions them for further professional work in maritime archeology.
Diving With a Purpose is also part of the Slave Wrecks Project, an international, interdisciplinary coalition that includes Washington University, Iziko Museums of South Africa and the U.S. National Park Service, and which has allowed the group to coordinate dives in places such as Mozambique and South Africa.
"We can go out there and do side-scan sonar, multibeam sonars, and surveys to maybe identify possible targets," he explained. "[S]ome of these targets may turn out to be nothing. Some of them may turn out to be various shipwrecks but not slave ship wrecks."
Experts within these partner groups identify broad swaths of ocean where wrecks might be, and then Diving With a Purpose volunteers explore these sites, effectively serving as "boots on the ground" for professional archaeologists, said Denson, who is a chief engineer at NASA.
Once a ship is found, everything from the vessel's material to nearby objects help researchers identify it. Some clues are obvious. For example, divers found a bell with the ship's name on the Henrietta Marie, the British slave vessel that sank near Florida in 1700. And, if it's metal, it's not a slave ship, Denson said. Objects like cannons and cannonballs indicate the ship's time period and country of origin. But one particular artifact indicates strong evidence that a wreck is a slave ship: shackles.
According to the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade Database, about 10.7 million people were kidnapped and trafficked to the New World. The Guerrero Project estimated that in addition to those who were enslaved, an added 90 million people died during "capture, internment and the ocean journey." To put that figure in perspective, that is more than twice the black population in the United States today.
Numbers of this magnitude are too vast to trigger an empathy response, according to psychology professor Paul Slovic, something white people already have a hard time with when it comes to black folks. And although many may be desensitized to the vast scale of slave trade atrocity, findings, such as the child-sized shackles as described by artist and activist Dinizulu "Gene" Tinnie in the Guerrero Project, help bring it back to human scale.
Uncovering a Dark Part of Our History
Diving With a Purpose has inserted a perspective into the diving and archeological fields that had been historically underrepresented - that of the descendants of enslaved Africans. The Association of Black Anthropologists estimates that African-Americans make up less than 1% of archaeologists in the United States, and 3,000 black divers are in NABS compared with more than 3 million divers nationwide.
"The African-American diver is a rare thing," said Tristan Cannon, 19, a diver and chemistry major at Tennessee State University. "And the fact that we are fervently looking for these pieces of history that could very well stay buried ... is also very important. We are trying our best to make sure that these stories don't remain lost forever."
The history of enslaved Africans and their descendants is something that "mainstream archeology does not really concentrate on," said Denson, who also helped uncover a plane flown by the Tuskegee Airmen in Lake Huron.
But things are starting to change, a possible fortunate byproduct of our racially polarized nation and politics, which Denson believes makes it harder to be "complacent."
"I think it's becoming a little bit more, I wouldn't say popular ... but a lot more interest is coming about," he said. "[I]t's a dark part of our history. But people are trying to start to recognize that this is our history."
This story was originally reported and written by Ruth Terry for YES! Magazine.
get more stories like this via email
By Ann Thomas for Arts Midwest.
Broadcast version by Mark Moran for Iowa News Service reporting for the Arts Midwest-Public News Service Collaboration
Natural light floods through large windows lining nearly every wall of the Trappist Caskets production facility in northeast Iowa, wrapping it in view of New Melleray Abbey's 3,400 acres, 1,200 of which are abundant in timber.
The storage racks at Trappist Caskets, designed and fabricated by master welder Brother Dennis, stretch six caskets tall between the concrete floor and the rafters that span the length of the shipping bay. This area manages the ebb and flow of production and shipping. The goal is to keep them full at all times. Today, there are several vacancies-demand has been very high.
At first glance, the racks are overwhelming for their enormity, and the realization that each space represents an individual awaiting preparation for burial adds more gravity.
A wealth of midwestern natural resources, combined with the Trappist monks of New Melleray's need to financially support themselves through their own labor and maintain a life steeped in prayer, inspired its entry into casket manufacturing in 1999.
Each casket crafted by monks and employees at this facility in Peosta, Iowa, captures unrepeatable characteristics in walnut, oak, cherry or pine grain. But one casket on the shipping bay's floor this Tuesday stands out. Its design and far deeper red draw the eye quicker than all other cherry caskets in the shelving.
The lone casket served its owner first as a coffee table, its cherry wood aging in open air for 20 years. Rings left by glasses mark the lid's finish. With upholstering completed this morning, and its lid newly reinforced, this old cherry casket is on its way to the funeral home so as to serve the priest in death who purchased it. He will be buried in it within the next few days. Paul Pankowski, Production Manager for Trappist Caskets, notes it isn't uncommon for caskets to be purchased and turned into bookshelves, wine racks, and coffee tables, then for owners to eventually be buried in them.
The design for these have evolved since the cherry wood one was built. Recent interest in green burials necessitates biodegradable joinery and alternate handles, meaning designs continue to evolve.
Pankowski oversees all aspects of production on the circuitous workshop floor, and can identify by eye where boards moving their way through originated. He points out lighter tones that range through black walnut of Wisconsin and Missouri. Iowa's distinguishes itself from all others by richness of its depth, and the incomparable hardness of central Iowa's oak dulls blades quicker than any other wood. The whiteness and clarity of pine harvested from the monks' own land is easily recognizable in contrast to pine sourced from other areas.
For Brother Joseph, it's hard to believe the growth of this work. From the production facility's modest beginnings in the monks' barns to the far reaching ties maintained through prayer and memorial tree plantings for those buried in Trappist Caskets and their families-the span is remarkable.
Brother Joseph, who began in those barns in 2006 and continues to work in varied roles from woodworking to upholstering in the new facility completed in 2007, recalls how cramped and dusty the barns were. He stresses how critical the employment of nearby community members is now - to meet the high demand for their caskets and to ensure the monks' freedom to maintain the rhythm of monastic life.
The monks' concern for land stewardship led Brother Joseph to pursue the hire of their full-time forester, John Schroeder, six years ago. Schroeder is initiating large scale prairie restoration and reforestation projects which prioritize the needs of New Melleray Abbey's land and creeks lying on the cusp of Iowa's Driftless region. It is an area spared by the grinding weight of glaciers moving out of the midwest around 12,000 years ago. This land's delicate ecological balance and exceptionally rich soil are responsible for traits found in the trees that grow here.
Among the most grateful customers Trappist Caskets serves are parents who must bury their children. The monks offer these caskets free of charge. Funeral homes and hospitals are quick to connect families in these tragic circumstances to the monks. The Federal Trade Commission's Funeral Rule ensures that consumers are not limited to caskets offered by funeral homes for purchase and use, and anyone is free to contact Trappist Caskets, whose staff is always ready to guide families through meeting needs.
Trappist Caskets' employees can relate to this devastating experience. Production Manager Paul Pankowski and his wife lost a premature baby, and his first-hand knowledge infuses compassion in every step of the production process. His three-decade long experience within strict quality parameters of the custom kitchen cabinetry business prior to working at Trappist Caskets also informs his approach to all he does.
While the end goal of both industries is perfection, his purpose, as well as all who work at Trappist Caskets, is not to turn a profit, but rather offer an encounter with beauty and consolation during a time of grief.
Ann Thomas wrote this story for Arts Midwest.
get more stories like this via email
An art installation intended to jump-start social commentary about the treatment of immigrants has found a permanent home in Albuquerque.
In 2019, three bright pink and yellow teeter-totters were temporarily installed near a portion of the U.S.-Mexico wall near Sunland Park, New Mexico. The installation, meant to allow children and adults to interact on both sides, generated worldwide news coverage about the treatment of immigrants.
Josie Lopez, head curator of the Albuquerque Museum, said one of the three teeter-totters is now on permanent display, a reminder of its impact.
"When you see these kids on both sides of the border riding the teeter-totters it really flies in the face of this harmful language about people who are coming into the United States from our southern border," Lopez observed.
Lopez noted the Albuquerque teeter-totter is now part of the museum's exhibit called "Common Ground," designed to honor the artistic and cultural achievements of the U.S. Southwest. A second teeter-totter is on display at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art.
Immigration is a significant issue for New Mexico and Lopez emphasized the art piece calls attention to why bridges such as a teeter-totter or seesaw are more effective than walls.
"I think that there's this incredible power of art to create the conversation to deter those folks who fail to see the humanity in what's happening and who insist on making it political," Lopez contended.
The art piece was created by architect Ronald Rael and designer Virginia San Fratello.
get more stories like this via email
By Sophie Young for Mirror Indy.
Broadcast version by Joe Ulery for Indiana News Service reporting for the Mirror Indy-Free Press Indiana-Public News Service Collaboration.
Robert Montgomery was only about five years old when his father, legendary jazz guitarist Wes Montgomery, died of a heart attack at age 45. He doesn’t remember much from that time.
“His death really shook me,” said Robert, the youngest of seven siblings, and it wasn’t until he got older that he began to listen to his father’s music.
“I remember going to my mother and saying, ‘Mom, Dad was really good,’” he said. “And she goes, ‘Of course, you blockhead. Of course he was.’”
Now, Robert, 62, is one of his father’s biggest fans.
“To me, nobody plays as good as he does,” he said. “You know, not just because he’s my dad. Because I’ve listened to guitars, and they’re great. But they’re not Wes.”
Wes Montgomery, who was born in Indianapolis in 1923, was an innovator on the guitar, creating a new sound by playing with his thumb instead of a pick — a style he created so he wouldn’t disturb his family or neighbors while practicing at night after working long days at a factory. He got major record deals, won Grammys and toured.
Even though his music took him across the world, his home was always in Indianapolis. He was recognized on March 6 with a public dedication of a historical marker on what would’ve been his 101st birthday.
The Indiana Historical Bureau, which runs the marker program, has had Wes on its wishlist of people to recognize for years. Wes left his mark across the city, so it wasn’t easy to decide where the marker should go.
It could have gone on Indiana Avenue, where he played in jazz clubs. Instead, it will be at 10th and Bellefontaine Streets, near the Indianapolis Cultural Trail. The marker is close to where the Montgomery family home stood on Cornell Street before it was razed to build the interstate.
The decision for the location aligned with Wes’ priorities. He wanted to move to the West Coast to pursue music, but he stayed in Indianapolis for his wife, Serene, and their kids. Wes and Serene were 19 years old when they married in 1943 and were together until Wes’ death in 1968.
“The music was second. We were first – and my mother,” Robert said. “He was really truly a family man. At the very heart of being a family man, the love for us was impeccable.”
It wasn’t easy to capture Wes’ 45 years – his family, his work, his music – on a historical marker. Each side of the metal sign can only hold 372 characters, including spaces. And the text can’t include superlatives like “best” or “first;” everything has to be factual and backed up by primary sources.
“You had to really think about, ‘Okay, how do we talk about this person and not connect my emotional feelings and inspirational things that he brought to my life and music?” said Rob Dixon, a saxophone player. “That was a challenge, but it was rewarding.”
Dixon is the artistic director of the Indy Jazz Fest, and he was part of a team that helped with the application process.
The research was led by Scott and Katie Taylor, who met Robert’s siblings while applying for a marker for John Hope School 26, an initiative led by the Oaks Academy to pay tribute to the history of the school it had purchased. From there, they became interested in Wes’ life and legacy.
All the research fits in a thick, heavy binder full of newspaper clippings, advertisements for shows and more. The book ends with pages of articles about Wes’ legacy and influence.
Wes died on June 15, 1968, and 2,400 people showed up at his funeral, including Julian “Cannonball” Adderly, a renowned saxophone player who “discovered” Wes in 1959 at the Missile Room on North West Street. Adderly and other jazz stars were in town for a show at the Indiana Theater, according to IndyStar reports from the time.
After the public dedication ceremony for the marker on March 6, the Bottleworks Hotel hosted a private reception where Robert and other family members, and musicians and friends from across the country came out to remember Wes.
Serene Miles Montgomery-Woods, who later remarried, died in 2020 at age 96. Robert shared a story his wife told about riding in the car with Serene when she was in her 80s.
“This song came on – Freddie Jackson’s ‘My Lady.’ And my wife thought maybe she didn’t want to hear it, so she turned it down,” he said. His mom said, “‘No, turn that up.’ And she said, ‘Wes used to say that about me all the time. I was his lady.’”
Sophie Young wrote this article for Mirror Indy.
get more stories like this via email