‘Destination Freedom’

For the Fourth of July, I present a cool audio artifact.

In 1948, Chicago radio station WMAQ (owned by NBC) created a drama series called “Destination Freedom.” It told the stories of notable African Americans.

The first episode (aired June 27, 1948) was about Crispus Attucks, remembered as the first man to die in the American Revolution. The radio play, titled “The Knock Kneed Man,” was written by Richard Durham.

A journalist for the Chicago Defender and an experienced radio dramatist, Richard Durham wrote 91 scripts for “Destination Freedom.” Fifteen of those scripts were published in book form in 1989.

To hear the complete half-hour episode about Crispus Attucks, click here. This and other episodes of “Destination Freedom” can be downloaded (for free) from the Internet Archive.

The Jim Jones ‘death tape’

Be warned: this is the grimmest thing I’ve ever posted on this blog. But I must do it because it’s an extraordinary audio artifact... a stunning piece of history.

Six months from now will be the 30th anniversary of the Jonestown Massacre – the mass suicide (and murder) of more than 900 members of the Jim Jones cult in Guyana, South America.

The Jonestown tragedy added an ironically playful phrase – “drink the Kool-Aid” – to our American vernacular.

Perhaps we all should remember the horrible source of that phrase.

James Warren Jones founded an interracial church in Indiana in the 1950s... a church soon dedicated to his vision of utopian socialism. Jones called it the Peoples Temple.

The church moved to California in 1965. It grew in prominence during the 1970s in San Francisco, where the Peoples Temple attracted many poor black followers.

In 1977, Jim Jones encouraged his disciples to move with him to “Jonestown,” a settlement built in the jungles of Guyana.

U.S. Congressman Leo Ryan, an outspoken critic of religious cults, traveled to Jonestown to investigate claims of human-rights abuses there.

A small group of Peoples Temple defectors asked to be taken back to America, and they left Jonestown with Congressman Ryan.

But at an airstrip, Jim Jones’s armed guards opened fire on the congressman’s group, killing Leo Ryan and several others. At the same time, Jim Jones was urging his loyal followers to commit an act of “revolutionary suicide” and to “take the potion” – a mixture of grape drink and cyanide.

The FBI later recovered audiotapes that Jim Jones recorded while orchestrating the mass suicide.

A 42-minute package of these recordings is for sale online – under the title “The Jonestown Death Tapes” – at iTunes, eMusic and Amazon. A free version (slightly longer) is downloadable from the Internet Archive, where it can also be streamed.

I’m streaming a 15½-minute edit on my Vox blog.

You will not hear people dying. It’s more extraordinary than that. You’ll hear Jones running the ultimate mind-control game on his believers.

After making his case for mass suicide, Jim Jones yields the floor for “any dissenting opinion.” That is when a black woman, 60-year-old Christine Miller (pictured left), calmly and courageously argues for life.

“Not that I’m afraid to die, by no means,” she says. “But I look at our babies, and I think they deserve to live.”

The back-and-forth between Jim Jones and Christine Miller is bone-chilling and heartbreaking.

Eventually Christine was shouted down by other temple members. You’ll hear several of them speak in favor of Jones’s plan. They sound grateful to give up their lives at his command.

On the full version, grown black folks lovingly refer to Jim Jones – this psychotic white man – as “father” and “dad.”

I end my edit at the point where the poison is starting to be consumed.

Click here to listen... if you think you can handle it.

Charles Dutton performs August Wilson

Speaking of Broadway, here is another Black History moment for the literary-minded.

“Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom” was the play that put August Wilson on the path to glory as a writer. It also introduced the world to the acting of Charles S. Dutton. Dutton received a Tony Award nomination for his performance as Levee, a tormented trumpet player.

In his rave review in the New York Times in 1984, Frank Rich wrote:

“Mr. Dutton’s delineation of [Levee’s] tragic downfall is red-hot. A burly actor a year out of Yale, he is at first as jazzy as his music. ... But once he crash lands, the poison of self-hatred ravages his massive body and distorts his thundering voice. ...

“As Mr. Dutton careens about with unchecked, ever escalating turbulence, he transforms an anonymous Chicago bandroom into a burial ground for a race’s aspirations.”

I saw “Ma Rainey” in D.C. years ago with a local cast. Act One ends with a ferocious speech by Levee... a real acting showpiece.

I am streaming Charles Dutton’s reading of that speech, from the original Broadway cast recording.

Levee’s fellow band members have teased him about kissing up to a white record producer in hopes of getting financial backing for his own projects. Click here to hear what happens.

Artifact: Britain’s biggest hits of 1970

I recently acquired a neat audio artifact (from here): BBC Radio’s year-end countdown of the Top 50 songs of 1970!

This combines three of my personal obsessions: popular music, foreign media, ’70s nostalgia.

In the early 1970s, during my pre-adolescence, I loved listening to Casey Kasem’s “American Top 40.” The U.K. equivalent was called “Pick of the Pops.” (Compared to Casey Kasem, I say the British host sounds rather corny.)

I’m streaming the final three songs of the 1970 British countdown on my Vox blog. I shan’t ruin the drama by revealing those titles here, except to say that the No. 1 song you probably remember fondly (but not that fondly).

I will say that “Bridge Over Troubled Water,” “All Right Now” and “Spirit in the Sky” were further down on the Top 10.

Also, there’s a cool extra bit at the very end of the show. So if you have 11 minutes to kill, click here and enjoy a trip back in time.

Remembering Reverend C.L. Franklin

He is remembered nowadays as Aretha Franklin’s father. But in the 1950s, the Rev. Clarence LaVaughn Franklin was one of the most famous preachers in America.

In the city of Detroit, C.L. Franklin’s Sunday night radio broadcasts live from New Bethel Baptist Church were a phenomenon. Other preachers rescheduled their Sunday evening services so as not to compete with Rev. Franklin’s.

Then he pioneered the practice of recording full-length sermons for sale as LPs. This brought him “a national celebrity within black America on the level of a Sam Cooke, a Mahalia Jackson, or a Little Richard,” according to Franklin’s biographer, Nick Salvatore.

I’m streaming a 7-minute segment of one of Rev. Franklin’s most popular sermons, “The Eagle Stirs Her Nest,” on my Vox audio stash. Click here to hear it. You can purchase the full half-hour sermon for download from eMusic.

In his 2005 book, “Singing in a Strange Land: C.L. Franklin, the Black Church, and the Transformation of America,” Salvatore describes Rev. Franklin’s growing stardom (and the backlash) after he got into business with record-label entrepreneur Joe Von Battle:

NICK SALVATORE: The recordings were an immediate sensation. Detroiters bought them in large numbers, and Von Battle distributed them on his JVB label to other record shops in the Midwest and the South. Von Battle’s operation was small, and he could neither press enough records nor handle the bookkeeping and advertising to take full advantage of the opportunity. But there was no question that Franklin was a major success.

When Von Battle put a new sermon on his [record store’s] sound system, flooding the Hastings Street sidewalk with the mellifluous power of that voice, crowds frequently gathered to listen. “More than once,” Marsha L. Mickens, Von Battle’s daughter, remembered her father saying, he “had to call the police to break up the crowds that would gather to hear” the recorded sermon.

All this attention made C.L. an even more attractive figure as he leaned across the pulpit or sauntered down Hastings Street during the course of a day’s business. This handsome, virile man, in effect single since 1948, had never been bashful about his sexuality, which he considered... “one of the great psychological needs” all humans experience. That some women, in and outside the church community, responded with a matching passion, C.L. considered one of life’s great delights. ...

Talk about C.L.’s involvements with women provided his critics, particularly those in the ministry, with additional cause to dismiss him. The critics were not necessarily innocents themselves, but the open, public manner in which C.L. squired his women about town upset them. From their perspective, C.L. was not exploring the boundary of the sacred and the secular – he had, rather, fallen over into the abyss.

This, in turn, reinforced criticism of his preaching style and doubts about his recording career. Even before his appearance on the JVB label, many had dismissed him as a mere entertainer, a panderer to popular emotions, a preacher who lacked an intellectual core to his sermon.

More so in 1953, following C.L.’s carefully produced radio program, his record sales, and New Bethel’s mushrooming membership rolls, these critics – with not a little jealousy – regarded C.L. as a celebrity hound, an embarrassment to the ministry they sought to serve.

Were these charges accurate, C.L.’s stretch toward national fame would quickly falter, for no sermon so empty of meaning could withstand repeated scrutiny by the insightful if often unschooled people whose perceptive folk commentary on preachers and their messages was a staple of the black oral tradition.

Artifact: ‘My grandfather belonged to Thomas Jefferson.’

Growing up in D.C., I never heard of “Juneteenth.” But I will jump on any pretext to stream some cool audio, so... prepare to hear the words of Fountain Hughes, a former slave. (Actually, I’m not streaming this one; the Library of Congress is.)

Fountain Hughes was interviewed on June 11, 1949, by Hermond Norwood, an engineer with the Library of Congress. Hughes said he was 101 years old.

Strangely, one of the first things Mr. Hughes says, by way of introducing himself to posterity, is: “My grandfather belonged to Thomas Jefferson.” As if, after 100 years of living, that’s what he’s most proud of – that his grandfather had been the slave of a great and famous white man.

In a fucked-up way, I guess that is something to be proud of. We can assume that Thomas Jefferson would only own the best.

In a more obvious way, it’s a psychological tragedy. And yet that’s the value to us of hearing Fountain Hughes (or “Uncle Fountain,” as Norwood calls him in the condescending politeness of a bygone era) speak in his own voice about slavery times.

“Colored people that’s free ought to be awful thankful,” Mr. Hughes says about 19 minutes into the recording. “And some of them is sorry they are free now. Some of them now would rather be slaves.”

“Which would you rather be, Uncle Fountain?” asks Norwood, adding a laugh.

“Me? Which I’d rather be?... If I thought, had any idea, that I’d ever be a slave again,” Fountain Hughes says, “I’d take a gun and just end it all right away. Because you’re nothing but a dog.”

Mr. Hughes emerges instantly on this recording as a vivid, appealing character. He had the gift of gab, and then some. (He spends the first six minutes going on and on about the evils of buying on credit before the interviewer can get a word in edgewise.)

When it comes to his boyhood memories of slavery in Virginia, the small details resonate. “I told a woman the other day, I said, ‘I never had no shoes till I was 13 years old.’ She say, ‘What, you bruise your feet all up? Stump your toes?’ I said, ‘Yes, many times I’ve stumped my toes, and blood run out ’em. That didn’t make ’em buy me no shoes.’ ”

Click here to listen to an mp3 file of this living, breathing artifact of American history, courtesy of the “American Memory” project of the Library of Congress. (It’s about 29 minutes long.)

‘A catastrophe for the white race’

Lawrence Auster, my second-favorite race-obsessed blogger – (my favorite being me) – sounded off today on the fact that America’s non-white population has grown to 100 million bodies. That’s a lotta wogs, no matter how you slice it.

Mr. Auster, being a traditionalist conservative, calls this “a catastrophe for America, for Western civilization, for the white race, and for the whole world.”

To which I would add: Unless you like burritos. (I love burritos!)

Actually, I think it’s worth discussing how America is different with a 67 percent white majority compared with an 89 percent white majority (as in 1965, when the immigration floodgates were opened). It’s certainly worth speculating how America might change as the white majority shrinks toward 50 percent.

I am not an open-borders guy. Maybe some sort of immigration moratorium is a good idea, so we can absorb the millions of new foreigners already in our midst.

But I’d like to remind Larry Auster of one thing. The last time Congress acted to restrict immigration – back in 1924 – Auster’s own Jewish immigrant grandparents were the sort of people that the white majority wanted to keep out.

For a bit of historical perspective, let’s read the words of Madison Grant (pictured), one of the ideological godfathers of the Immigration Act of 1924. To Mr. Grant, it is Lawrence Auster’s presence in America that represents a catastrophe for the white race.

Here’s some of what Madison Grant wrote in his 1916 treatise, “The Passing of the Great Race”:

MADISON GRANT: [T]he view that the Negro slave was an unfortunate cousin of the white man, deeply tanned by the tropic sun and denied the blessings of Christianity and civilization, played no small part with the sentimentalists of the Civil War period and it has taken us fifty years to learn that speaking English, wearing good clothes and going to school and to church do not transform a Negro into a white man. …

Americans will have a similar experience with the Polish Jew, whose dwarf stature, peculiar mentality and ruthless concentration on self-interest are being engrafted upon the stock of the nation.

Recent attempts have been made in the interest of inferior races among our immigrants to show that the shape of the skull does change, not merely in a century, but in a single generation.

In 1910, the report of the anthropological expert of the Congressional Immigration Commission gravely declared that a round skull Jew on his way across the Atlantic might and did have a round skull child; but a few years later, in response to the subtle elixir of American institutions as exemplified in an East Side tenement, might and did have a child whose skull was appreciably longer…. In other words the Melting Pot was acting instantly under the influence of a changed environment.

What the Melting Pot actually does in practice can be seen in Mexico, where the absorption of the blood of the original Spanish conquerors by the native Indian population has produced the racial mixture which we call Mexican and which is now engaged in demonstrating its incapacity for self-government.

… Whether we like to admit it or not, the result of the mixture of two races, in the long run, gives us a race reverting to the more ancient, generalized and lower type. The cross between a white man and an Indian is an Indian; the cross between a white man and a Negro is a Negro; the cross between a white man and a Hindu is a Hindu; and the cross between any of the three European races and a Jew is a Jew. …

The result of unlimited immigration is showing plainly in the rapid decline in the birth rate of native [white] Americans because the poorer classes of Colonial stock, where they still exist, will not bring children into the world to compete in the labor market with the Slovak, the Italian, the Syrian and the Jew.

The native American is too proud to mix socially with them and is gradually withdrawing from the scene, abandoning to these aliens the land which he conquered and developed. The man of the old stock is being crowded out of many country districts by these foreigners just as he is to-day being literally driven off the streets of New York City by the swarms of Polish Jews.

These immigrants adopt the language of the native American, they wear his clothes, they steal his name and they are beginning to take his women, but they seldom adopt his religion or understand his ideals and while he is being elbowed out of his own home the American looks calmly abroad and urges on others the suicidal ethics which are exterminating his own race.

Artifact: Slave and master duke it out!

You’ll find some amazing documents floating around on the Internet. Stuff that makes history jump to life.

For instance, there’s the complete text of an 1895 memoir titled “The New Man: Twenty-nine Years a Slave, Twenty-nine Years a Free Man,” by Henry Clay Bruce.

What follows is a recollection unlike anything you might’ve seen in “Roots”… or even “Mandingo.” I’ll have more to say about H.C. Bruce and his autobiography at a later date. For now, just let your mind paint a picture of this:

HENRY CLAY BRUCE: I am reminded of a fight I once witnessed between a slave and his master. They were both recognized bullies. The master was a farmer, whose name I shall call Mr. W., who lived about three miles from Brunswick, Missouri. He had, by marriage I think, gained possession of a slave named Armstead.

Soon after arriving at his new home his master and he had some words; his master ordered him to “shut up,” which he refused to do. The master struck him and he returned the blow. Then Mr. W. said, “Well, sir, if that is your game I am your man, and I tell you right now, if you lick me I’ll take it as my share, and that will end it, but if I lick you, then you are to stand and receive twenty lashes.”

They were out in an open field near the public road, where there was nothing to interfere. I was on a wagon in the road, about forty yards distant. Then commenced the prettiest fist and skull fight I ever witnessed, lasting, it seemed, a full half hour; both went down several times; they clinched once or twice, and had the field for a ring, and might have occupied more of it than they did, but they confined themselves to about one fourth of an acre.

Of course Armstead had my Sympathy throughout, because I wanted to see whether Mr. W. would keep his word. They were both bloody and also muddy, but grit to the backbone. Finally my man went down and could not come to time, and cried out, “Enough.” There was a creek near by, and they both went to it to wash.

I left, but was informed that the agreement was carried out, except that Mr. W. gave his whipped man but six light strokes over his vest. Could he have done less? But I have been informed that these men got along well afterwards without fighting, and lived together as master and slave until the war.

The Vice President and His Mulatto (p.p.s.)

Brenda Gordon has also sent me a fascinating artifact relating to the half-hidden history of her family… and of American politics.

It’s a newspaper article dated November 29, 1832. Here’s what the Lexington Observer and Kentucky Reporter had to say about the marriage of a white man, Thomas W. Scott, to Adeline Johnson, daughter of future U.S. Vice President Richard M. Johnson and his octoroon slave/common-law wife Julia Chinn.

(Mrs. Gordon discovered about a decade ago that Richard Johnson and Julia Chinn are her great-great-great-grandparents. She transcribed this article from a microfilm copy at the Kentucky History Center.)

Marriage Extraordinary! MARRIED, In Scott County, on the 8th inst. By the Rev. ------*, Mr. THOMAS W. SCOTT, a white man, to Miss ADELINE J. JOHNSON, a mulatto girl, and reputed, or acknowledged, daughter of the Honorable Richard M. Johnson, one of the Representatives of the state of Kentucky in the Congress of the United States!

A few days after Mr. Scott became the happy husband of the FAIR and lovely Adeline, he was presented by her father, the “good Colonel,” with a fine tract of land, known as the “Blue Spring farm,” for which a deed has been regularly made and entered of record in the office of the Clerk of the Scott County Court. The deed runs, “to Thomas W. Scott and Adeline J. Scott, his wife, jointly, their heirs,” &c.

This is the second time that the moral feelings of that portion of the people of Scott county who possess such feelings, have been shocked and outraged by the marriage of a mulatto daughter of Col. Johnson to a white man, if a man, who will so far degrade himself; who will make himself an object of scorn and destation to every person that has the least regard for decency, for a little property; can be considered a white man. About two years and a half ago, a Mr. DANIEL PENCE, married IMOGENE, Colonel Johnson’s eldest daughter; and, as has more recently been the case with Mr. Scott, was soon after rewarded for his degradation, by being put in possession of a large farm and a number of slaves to cultivate it.

How long will the people of Scott County – of Kentucky – permit such palpable violations of the laws of their state to be commited with impunity! How long will the moral and religious part of the community suffer such indecent and shocking example to be set for their sons and the rising generation, before they put their veto upon them? – before they consign to private life at least, if not to infamy, those who encourage such violations of the laws both of God and of man? The laws of Kentucky forbid, under heavy penalties, a white man’s marrying a negro or mulatto, or living with one in the character of man and wife. Why should Pence and Scott not be held amenable to the laws? What are the Grand Jury of Scott about? … Will they suffer Pence and Scott to go unpunished because they have become the sons-in-law of Col. Johnson? – We hope not. We hope to see the supremacy of the laws of the country maintained, although persons high in office should be made to feel their weight.

* The Rev. Thomas Henderson, Principal of the Choctaw Academy, is said to have performed the marriage ceremony between Mr. Scott and Miss Adeline. We incline to doubt his having done so; for we have a higher opinion of Mr. Henderson than to believe he would be guilty of such an outrage against public opinion and the laws of his country.

Artifact: How the negro race is ‘very different’

In honor of Confederate History and Heritage Month, I reached for a little Harriet Beecher Stowe. She, of course, was the pious Northern abolitionist who wrote the earth-shaking novel “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” 150 years ago.

I’m more interested, however, in her non-fiction follow-up book, “A Key to Uncle Tom’s Cabin.” In it, Mrs. Stowe described the real-world influences on her made-up characters, and she expounded upon the religious ethics of chattel slavery.

Harriet Beecher Stowe was a gutsy woman. She appealed to the consciences of white people on behalf of black people, and it worked; “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” is said to be the best-selling novel of the 19th Century.

But that doesn’t mean she had anything close to a present-day understanding of race differences and what we enlightened modern folk call “black cultural modes.”

For the sheer fun of looking into the past, I present a small piece of “A Key to Uncle Tom’s Cabin.”

Here, Mrs. Stowe stretches out on the passage in her novel where Uncle Tom has a vision of Jesus Christ. (“Suddenly everything around him seemed to fade, and a vision rose before him of one crowned with thorns, buffeted and bleeding. Tom gazed, in awe and wonder, at the majestic patience of the face; the deep, pathetic eyes thrilled him to his inmost heart; his soul woke as, with floods of emotion, he stretched out his hands and fell upon his knees…”)

HARRIET BEECHER STOWE: The vision attributed to Uncle Tom introduces quite a curious chapter of psychology with regard to the negro race, and indicates a peculiarity which goes far to show how very different they are from the white race.

They are possessed of a nervous organization peculiarly susceptible and impressible. Their sensations and impressions are very vivid, and their fancy and imagination lively. In this respect the race has an oriental character, and betrays its tropical origin. Like the Hebrews of old and the oriental nations of the present, they give vent to their emotions with the utmost vivacity of expression, and their whole bodily system sympathizes with the movements of their minds.

When in distress, they actually lift up their voices to weep, and “cry with an exceeding bitter cry.” When alarmed, they are often paralyzed, and rendered entirely helpless.

Their religious exercises are all colored by this sensitive and exceedingly vivacious temperament. Like oriental nations, they incline much to outward expressions, violent gesticulations, and agitating movements of the body. Sometimes, in their religious meetings, they will spring from the floor many times in succession, with a violence and rapidity which is perfectly astonishing.

They will laugh, weep, embrace each other convulsively, and sometimes become entirely paralyzed and cataleptic. A clergyman from the North once remonstrated with a Southern clergyman for permitting such extravagances among his flock. The reply of the Southern minister was, in effect, this:

“Sir, I am satisfied that the races are so essentially different that they cannot be regulated by the same rules. I at first felt as you do; and, though I saw that genuine conversions did take place, with all this outward manifestation, I was still so much annoyed by it as to forbid it among my negroes, till I was satisfied that the repression of it was a serious hindrance to real religious feeling; and then I became certain that all men cannot be regulated in their religious exercises by one model. I am assured that conversions produced with these accessories are quite as apt to be genuine, and to be as influential over the heart and life, as those produced in any other way.”

The fact is that the Anglo-Saxon race – cool, logical, and practical – have yet to learn the doctrine of toleration for the peculiarities of other races; and perhaps it was with a foresight of their peculiar character, and dominant position in the earth, that God gave the Bible to them in the fervent language and with the glowing imagery of the more susceptible and passionate oriental races.

Artifact: Frank Zappa on the birth of rock ’n’ roll

I’m a collector of old magazines, old college textbooks, weird old record albums, stuff like that. Cultural artifacts… windows into the American past. I intend to share some of the tastier artifacts here on the blog.

For instance, on June 28, 1968, Life magazine did a cover story on “The New Rock,” wherein America’s most popular news magazine acknowledged the existence of Janis Joplin, Cream, the Who, the Doors, the Jefferson Airplane, even Frank Zappa.

Zappa, in fact, contributed an essay on the socioanthropology of early rock ’n’ roll. It is, as you’d imagine, intelligent and funny and full of insight. (He is on my list of folks I wish I had interviewed.)

I came across Zappa’s essay not in an old Life magazine (though plenty of those are available online, like here); I found it reprinted in a college textbook called “America and Its Discontents.”

A Zappa fan has re-typed and posted the complete article here. But in accord with the legal principle of “fair use,” I’ll give you only a few paragraphs:

FRANK ZAPPA: In my days of flaming youth I was extremely suspect of any rock music played by white people. The sincerity and emotional intensity of their performances, when they sang about boyfriends and girl friends and breaking up, etc., was nowhere when I compared it to my high school Negro R&B heroes like Johnny Otis, Howlin’ Wolf and Willie Mae Thornton.

But then I remember going to see “Blackboard Jungle.” When the titles flashed up there on the screen Bill Haley and his Comets started blurching “One Two Three O’Clock, Four O’Clock Rock…” It was the loudest rock sound kids had ever heard at that time. I remember being inspired with awe.

In cruddy little teen-age rooms across America, kids had been huddling around old radios and cheap record players listening to the “dirty music” of their life style. (“Go in your room if you wanna listen to that crap… and turn the volume all the way down.”)

But in the theater, watching “Blackboard Jungle,” they couldn’t tell you to turn it down. I didn’t care if Bill Haley was white or sincere… he was playing the Teen-Age National Anthem and it was so LOUD I was jumping up and down. “Blackboard Jungle,” not even considering the story line (which had the old people winning in the end) represented a strange sort of “endorsement” of the teen-age cause: “They have made a movie about us, therefore, we exist… .”

Responding like dogs, some of the kids began to go for the throat. Open rebellion. The early public dances and shows which featured rock were frowned upon by the respectable parents of the community. They did everything they could do to make it impossible for these events to take place. They did everything they could to shield their impressionable young ones from the ravages of this vulgar new craze. …

From the very beginning, the real reason Mr. & Mrs. Clean White America objected to this music was the fact that it was performed by black people. There was always the danger that one night – maybe in the middle of the summer, in a little pink party dress – Janey or Suzy might be overwhelmed by the lewd, pulsating jungle rhythms and do something to make their parents ashamed. …