Friday June 15, 2007
Our first day playing. 12:30 downbeat. This trip I’m holding down the baritone saxophone chair. Last year I played baritone in Jamaica for the first time. For me, the best word to describe playing bari is “fun.”
I had a good-sized breakfast to start the day. Then a quick run up the 10 flights of stairs to my room. If I can run 6 to 8 floors without stopping I feel good. Today I did all 10 floors before my legs turned to lead. Not bad.
The hotel staff was wrapping up setting up the PA system when I arrived at the gig. So we were able to start on time. The first tune on the first gig is the first chance we have to see how the whole band sounds together in the open air and heat/humidity of the Caribbean. Today we sounded very good right off the bat. By the second chart we had locked in. This trip featured a very hot sax section and it was living up to the billing. We were tight, very balanced.
Midway through the set, our lead alto player, Rory, took a solo. He was on fire! Burning! I was enjoying it so much I almost missed my entrance.
All too soon the first set was over. Last year after a gig playing baritone, I was worn out. Walking the few feet to dinner was a chore. I felt like a boxer who had gone the full 12 rounds, walks back to his corner and collapses, spent, onto the stool.
Not this year. This time I felt energized after the first set. I was ready to go a few more rounds. My year-old Cannonball bari sounded incredibly good. It roared. It soared. Floor-rumbling bottom end. Notes in the staff sounded like a bowed bass. 3-hour set? Bring it on!!
Something happened during the break. Maybe it was too long. Maybe we ate too much. I don’t know. But whatever happened, that chemistry the band had during the first set was gone.
Lunch in the Grande Palm Courtyard was just about over. No use rushing to put my axe away only to come back down to a closing buffet. On a whim I went over to the Jamalicious Café. They were serving one of my favorite Jamaican dishes; curry goat. How good was it? Let’s just say there was a whole lotta lip-smackin’ goin’ on.
(Click to see photos from the trip)
Sunday, May 25, 2008
11 Days in Jamaica - Day 1
Thursday June 14, 2007
Ocho Rios, Jamaica - There are some things that are unsurpassed in beauty. Sunrise at 35,000 feet is one of them. Orange sun rising above the indigo horizon…. Over Mexico now, heading south. The shores of the Gulf of Mexico are clearly visible but the clouds are rapidly getting thicker.
Banking eastward toward the Caribbean and I know Jamaica is not far. The clouds now spread out as far as you can see. For the amount of different cloud formations up here, you’d think there’d be some severe turbulence. But the flight has been as smooth as glass most of the way. A drop in the pitch of the droning engines announces our descent. Moments later, the Jewel of the Caribbean appears outside our starboard windows.
We cross the runway threshold and seem to hang 10 feet above the concrete for what seemed like too long. I thought to myself, “You can set this bird down anytime now.” Finally the wheels touch terra firma. Our rollout takes us to the east end of the runway where we turn right and circle back to the terminal.
Getting off the plane and through immigration was a breeze this time. All of our axes and luggage made it safely. When your axe becomes checked luggage it makes for an anxious trip every time you do it. TSA can be as bad as the baggage handlers, especially when they open your case upside down and/or don’t close it properly.
Donald Sangster Airport in Montego Bay has been under construction for several years now. This year a pleasant surprise awaited us: Customs had been moved to a new wing of the airport. It was big. It was beautiful. It was air conditioned!
At Customs, each member of the band has to open the case containing his axe and show it to the agent. The serial numbers must match a list that had been sent to them a few weeks before our arrival. No glitches this time so we breezed through Customs, too.
Outside, our drivers Chris and Papa Wilson were waiting to shuttle us over to Ocho Rios. They found out about our flight delay and had moved the vans to a waiting area until we arrived.
One of the kiosks outside sold refreshments, including Red Stripe beer. Half of the band promptly descended on the kiosk, some of them literally getting their first taste of Jamaica via a cold Red Stripe. I opted for a Ting.
I always read the billboards along the road. It helps me connect with the island. Cellular phone companies dominate. Banks and public service announcements are plentiful, as are food ads. This is what the government and big corporations spend a big chunk of their advertising budget on.
That got me reflecting on an article that I wrote a couple of years ago for the Expo Update (click the link under the photo of the diver). The island is sure changing. New lux resorts like Riu and Gran Bahia Principe have sprung up. Condo/villa complexes like the Palmyra with price tags of $500,000 to over $3.5 million are being built. Rantré pu wè si sa byen vré. Yo di ki péy a shanjé.
Usually we stop at Yow’s, about halfway to Ochee to stretch our legs and get a bite to eat. Here the band inhales the requisite beef patties and more Red Stripe. I went for jerk pork, which they were out of last time. I washed that down with a Kola Champagne.
Back on the road again, which is perpetually under construction. It was a bit better this time. The road bypassing Falmouth was complete. Looking back, I do miss driving through the town itself, but not the bumpy road. Less than an hour later we round a bend and beheld Ocho Rios. Carnival’s Triumph was in port. That lets us know that today is not a good day to go shopping.
I think the longest wait we had so far was getting checked into the hotel. One thing about this trip is you never know whom you’ll be rooming with. Another is we never know which days we’ll be playing, save the Ocho Rios Jazz Festival. And even those days can change after they’ve been assigned. But hey, this Jamaica, mon. No problem, right?
Through a mix-up with the rooming situation, I ended up with a room all to myself. At first I wasn’t going to say anything but I figured it would be better if I did let someone know. Besides, I’d have a clear conscience. The maid was told and our leader was told. I fully expected to have a roommate but so far I’m still by myself.
At 8:45 I went down to dinner. After eating, my first thought was to go back up to the room and get a good night’s sleep for a change. But the finals were on and even though I’m not a big basketball fan, I did want to see this one.
Mike joined me in the lobby midway through the 3rd quarter. For a while there I thought the Cavs might just avoid being broomed but that was short-lived. Mike was pulling for them, being from the Midwest, himself. San Antonio won the game and the championship. That was my cue to go back to the room and get my sleep.
(Click to see photos from the trip)
Ocho Rios, Jamaica - There are some things that are unsurpassed in beauty. Sunrise at 35,000 feet is one of them. Orange sun rising above the indigo horizon…. Over Mexico now, heading south. The shores of the Gulf of Mexico are clearly visible but the clouds are rapidly getting thicker.
Banking eastward toward the Caribbean and I know Jamaica is not far. The clouds now spread out as far as you can see. For the amount of different cloud formations up here, you’d think there’d be some severe turbulence. But the flight has been as smooth as glass most of the way. A drop in the pitch of the droning engines announces our descent. Moments later, the Jewel of the Caribbean appears outside our starboard windows.
We cross the runway threshold and seem to hang 10 feet above the concrete for what seemed like too long. I thought to myself, “You can set this bird down anytime now.” Finally the wheels touch terra firma. Our rollout takes us to the east end of the runway where we turn right and circle back to the terminal.
Getting off the plane and through immigration was a breeze this time. All of our axes and luggage made it safely. When your axe becomes checked luggage it makes for an anxious trip every time you do it. TSA can be as bad as the baggage handlers, especially when they open your case upside down and/or don’t close it properly.
Donald Sangster Airport in Montego Bay has been under construction for several years now. This year a pleasant surprise awaited us: Customs had been moved to a new wing of the airport. It was big. It was beautiful. It was air conditioned!
At Customs, each member of the band has to open the case containing his axe and show it to the agent. The serial numbers must match a list that had been sent to them a few weeks before our arrival. No glitches this time so we breezed through Customs, too.
Outside, our drivers Chris and Papa Wilson were waiting to shuttle us over to Ocho Rios. They found out about our flight delay and had moved the vans to a waiting area until we arrived.
One of the kiosks outside sold refreshments, including Red Stripe beer. Half of the band promptly descended on the kiosk, some of them literally getting their first taste of Jamaica via a cold Red Stripe. I opted for a Ting.
I always read the billboards along the road. It helps me connect with the island. Cellular phone companies dominate. Banks and public service announcements are plentiful, as are food ads. This is what the government and big corporations spend a big chunk of their advertising budget on.
That got me reflecting on an article that I wrote a couple of years ago for the Expo Update (click the link under the photo of the diver). The island is sure changing. New lux resorts like Riu and Gran Bahia Principe have sprung up. Condo/villa complexes like the Palmyra with price tags of $500,000 to over $3.5 million are being built. Rantré pu wè si sa byen vré. Yo di ki péy a shanjé.
Usually we stop at Yow’s, about halfway to Ochee to stretch our legs and get a bite to eat. Here the band inhales the requisite beef patties and more Red Stripe. I went for jerk pork, which they were out of last time. I washed that down with a Kola Champagne.
Back on the road again, which is perpetually under construction. It was a bit better this time. The road bypassing Falmouth was complete. Looking back, I do miss driving through the town itself, but not the bumpy road. Less than an hour later we round a bend and beheld Ocho Rios. Carnival’s Triumph was in port. That lets us know that today is not a good day to go shopping.
I think the longest wait we had so far was getting checked into the hotel. One thing about this trip is you never know whom you’ll be rooming with. Another is we never know which days we’ll be playing, save the Ocho Rios Jazz Festival. And even those days can change after they’ve been assigned. But hey, this Jamaica, mon. No problem, right?
Through a mix-up with the rooming situation, I ended up with a room all to myself. At first I wasn’t going to say anything but I figured it would be better if I did let someone know. Besides, I’d have a clear conscience. The maid was told and our leader was told. I fully expected to have a roommate but so far I’m still by myself.
At 8:45 I went down to dinner. After eating, my first thought was to go back up to the room and get a good night’s sleep for a change. But the finals were on and even though I’m not a big basketball fan, I did want to see this one.
Mike joined me in the lobby midway through the 3rd quarter. For a while there I thought the Cavs might just avoid being broomed but that was short-lived. Mike was pulling for them, being from the Midwest, himself. San Antonio won the game and the championship. That was my cue to go back to the room and get my sleep.
(Click to see photos from the trip)
11 Days in Jamaica - Departure
Wednesday June 13, 2007
Los Angeles, CA - The band (Antelope Valley Jazz Ensemble) is on its way back to Jamaica once again. Back on Air J (Air Jamaica) for this trip. That means a non-stop direct to Montego Bay. Finally, I’m at the airport. Thought I’d never get here. 40 minutes late leaving from my last appointment. 50 minutes late getting to the airport. (While we were waiting at the gate, we noticed that Delta Air Lines has a flight #1492 to Columbus.) Now we’re half an hour late leaving the gate. The pilot said it was because of the amount of luggage on board. Never heard that one before, but I did recall seeing one family with 14 pieces of luggage at the ticket counter, and when we landed I saw one single person with 10 boxes.
Justin and I had an empty seat between us; or so we thought. One of the stewardesses went row to row looking for two passengers who had checked in but not yet boarded. A few minutes later, a plus-sized woman got on and sat down, you guessed it, next to us. She was wearing two big, gaudy earrings that looked like small gongs. She also had on a necklace with long, wooden beads.
We pushed back from the gate, started up those General Electric CFM56 engines, lowered flaps, and headed down the taxiway. A few yards away from the end of the taxiway the pilot informs us that we had to turn back to the gate because one of the engines had “ingested something.” Not words you want to hear when you’re on a plane. That usually means a damaged or destroyed multi-million dollar engine. So back to the gate we go. I found out later that the engine had sucked in some sort of plastic object.
By now it’s after 11pm. I had been up since 5am so it was very easy to sleep while the mechanics tended to the engine. Little over an hour later I am awakened by a strange sound: Clink. Clink-clink. Clink…..Clink. Remember our plus-sized seatmate? Every time she moved her head her gong earrings hit her necklace. Very annoying because after sitting at the gate for nearly two hours the passengers started talking to each other. Including her. Which meant she was moving her head often. During the delay, some passengers were walking back to the galley bringing back water for their seatmates.
We were finally cleared by the maintenance supervisor and left the gate once again. We taxied out to the end of the runway. Since almost all the other air traffic had ceased by this hour we didn’t have to hold for clearance from the tower. The pilot ran up the GEs to full power. Our Airbus A320 eased forward. Picking up speed now, slowly at first, but after the brakes were fully released it felt like the afterburners kicked in. We barreled down the runway and into the air. My favorite part is just after rotation: The wheels clear the runway and for an instant it feels like we’re in limbo. Then it is if the air catches us up like a child jumping into his loving father’s outstretched arms.
Los Angeles, CA - The band (Antelope Valley Jazz Ensemble) is on its way back to Jamaica once again. Back on Air J (Air Jamaica) for this trip. That means a non-stop direct to Montego Bay. Finally, I’m at the airport. Thought I’d never get here. 40 minutes late leaving from my last appointment. 50 minutes late getting to the airport. (While we were waiting at the gate, we noticed that Delta Air Lines has a flight #1492 to Columbus.) Now we’re half an hour late leaving the gate. The pilot said it was because of the amount of luggage on board. Never heard that one before, but I did recall seeing one family with 14 pieces of luggage at the ticket counter, and when we landed I saw one single person with 10 boxes.
Justin and I had an empty seat between us; or so we thought. One of the stewardesses went row to row looking for two passengers who had checked in but not yet boarded. A few minutes later, a plus-sized woman got on and sat down, you guessed it, next to us. She was wearing two big, gaudy earrings that looked like small gongs. She also had on a necklace with long, wooden beads.
We pushed back from the gate, started up those General Electric CFM56 engines, lowered flaps, and headed down the taxiway. A few yards away from the end of the taxiway the pilot informs us that we had to turn back to the gate because one of the engines had “ingested something.” Not words you want to hear when you’re on a plane. That usually means a damaged or destroyed multi-million dollar engine. So back to the gate we go. I found out later that the engine had sucked in some sort of plastic object.
By now it’s after 11pm. I had been up since 5am so it was very easy to sleep while the mechanics tended to the engine. Little over an hour later I am awakened by a strange sound: Clink. Clink-clink. Clink…..Clink. Remember our plus-sized seatmate? Every time she moved her head her gong earrings hit her necklace. Very annoying because after sitting at the gate for nearly two hours the passengers started talking to each other. Including her. Which meant she was moving her head often. During the delay, some passengers were walking back to the galley bringing back water for their seatmates.
We were finally cleared by the maintenance supervisor and left the gate once again. We taxied out to the end of the runway. Since almost all the other air traffic had ceased by this hour we didn’t have to hold for clearance from the tower. The pilot ran up the GEs to full power. Our Airbus A320 eased forward. Picking up speed now, slowly at first, but after the brakes were fully released it felt like the afterburners kicked in. We barreled down the runway and into the air. My favorite part is just after rotation: The wheels clear the runway and for an instant it feels like we’re in limbo. Then it is if the air catches us up like a child jumping into his loving father’s outstretched arms.
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Driving the Scion Superhighway
September 9, 2007
Los Angeles - Two weeks ago Scion owners got an e-mail telling them that Scion was throwing the perfect summer getaway. It was called the Scion Superhighway. (Click here to see photos from the event.) The message invited owners to join with their Scion brothers and sisters for a rally on Sunday September 9th. Owners were to meet at Dodger Stadium, then take a drive up the coast to a "secret location". Only a limited number would be able to participate so early sign-up was encouraged. Those who didn't sign up quickly enough found that the limit was reached early.
On the big day, Scions started appearing almost out of nowhere. As they neared Dodger Stadium, they found that Sunset Blvd was blocked off for another event. Drivers had to locate another entrance, which was difficult for those who don't know the area.
Scion owners finally arrived at the designated lot. And they kept on coming. One at a time, two by two, by fives, dozens. Workers directed drivers where to park. Each driver was given a packet with rules and regs, and directions to the secret location. A numbered magnetic sign was placed on the driver’s side door of each vehicle.
It was clear that xBs and tCs ruled the day. The small - in size and number - but mighty xA represented. Scion's brand new offering for 2008, the xD, was in the house though only two or three examples spoke for the line. All told, close to 400 Scion vehicles converged on the Dodger Stadium staging area. (354 cars actually made the drive up the coast.)
Car clubs came out in force with drivers representing Scion Evolution, So Cal tC, Scion Image, Scikotics, and Team Sciontific. People came from as far away as San Diego, Northern California, Oregon and Phoenix, Arizona to participate in the rally. Solo drivers, couples, families, and friends showed up. Owners walked around, checked out the other cars, met each other, and just took in the first Scion Superhighway event.
The call time was 8am. By 9:30, many participants began to have the same idea and started looking for restrooms. There weren't any. Not even a port-a-potty.
With the meeting and greeting winding down, drivers were ready to literally get the show on the road. Word got around about a possible 10:30 departure. That soon became 11am. Rumors swirled that the convoy was waiting for the camera chopper to arrive. Impatient, drivers started revving engines and honking horns. The horns had sounds as varied as the vehicles that housed them, ranging from standard to ‘oogah’ to one that sounded like an air horn from a train's locomotive.
Finally the helicopter arrived at 11:15. Relieved drivers jumped in their rides and fired up their engines. It took 20 minutes to empty parking lot. The departure could have been executed a little better. Directional signage would have prevented a wrong turn by 50 or so drivers. Stopping traffic for 5 minutes would have allowed all of the participants to exit at same time without getting separated. And it would have made for a better photo from the chopper with all 350 cars hitting the road together.
One of the first signs of the effect the massive parade of Scions had was on an elderly Asian couple walking down the street. They watched as one after another Scion rolled by. The husband pointed them out to his wife, almost in disbelief at the number of cars. The convoy got plenty of looks, many approving, most curious as to what was going on with this endless line of Scions.
When the group entered the south Harbor Freeway, they had to merge in with a motorcycle caravan of at least 100 members. They appeared to be out for their Sunday ride. Fortunately no feathers were ruffled. The Scion line peeled off onto the northbound 101 and the rally was on.
It was a beautiful day for a drive up the California coast. Ocean in view. Few, if any clouds in the sky. The only visible haze stayed offshore, hovering over the oil rigs. Temps were in the low to mid 80's. A perfect day to drive with the sunroof wide open. Drivers rolled along this storied highway for close to two hours en route to their secret destination.
At the Las Positas exit, three kids sat wide-eyed in their yard as hundreds of Scions drove by them. At the light, three xBs with lifts cut loose, bouncing and tilting, showing off for the kids. The xB in line right behind them didn't have hydraulics, but that didn't stop the passenger from bouncing up and down in her seat pretending that it did.
The secret location turned out to be Elings Park in Santa Barbara. Nestled in the hills, hidden from the road, the secluded park provided the ideal location for the Scions-only shindig. When the caravan drove up, Scion had the party ready and waiting to jump off. A big stage complete with DJs anchored the scene, with the DJs holding down the hosting duties. There were carnival games, plenty of food and drinks, and a plenty of space to walk around. In the center of it all was a big tent with truckloads of free gear inside. Owners scored T-shirts, exclusive Scion sampler CDs, hats, socks, and badge-holders. Scion had xB, tC, and xD project cars on display.
Show cars parked in a designated area. Owners walked through the area checking out the various ways owners tricked out their rides. Modifications ran the gamut from simple to sick. Judges roamed the rows of entrants, taking notes and in many cases asking owners to demonstrate what their vehicles could do. Occasionally a “chuff, chuff” sound was heard coming from a car as the owner raised or lowered their ride. Trophies were awarded for best in class in categories such as interior, exterior, and engine modification.
Scion had some serious give-aways. Throughout the afternoon, 5 sets of rims were given out to lucky owners. xA and xB owners got to pick parts for their vehicles from a stack of parts in the tent termed the Scion xA/xB Parts Yard. Toward the end of the event, Scion wheel covers were given out.
Scion sure knows how to treat their customers. Events like this make owners glad they bought one. Events like this make people who saw the rally want to buy one. Judging from the smiles on the faces of those who participated and the response on the owner forums, the first Scion Superhighway was a huge success.
Los Angeles - Two weeks ago Scion owners got an e-mail telling them that Scion was throwing the perfect summer getaway. It was called the Scion Superhighway. (Click here to see photos from the event.) The message invited owners to join with their Scion brothers and sisters for a rally on Sunday September 9th. Owners were to meet at Dodger Stadium, then take a drive up the coast to a "secret location". Only a limited number would be able to participate so early sign-up was encouraged. Those who didn't sign up quickly enough found that the limit was reached early.
On the big day, Scions started appearing almost out of nowhere. As they neared Dodger Stadium, they found that Sunset Blvd was blocked off for another event. Drivers had to locate another entrance, which was difficult for those who don't know the area.
Scion owners finally arrived at the designated lot. And they kept on coming. One at a time, two by two, by fives, dozens. Workers directed drivers where to park. Each driver was given a packet with rules and regs, and directions to the secret location. A numbered magnetic sign was placed on the driver’s side door of each vehicle.
It was clear that xBs and tCs ruled the day. The small - in size and number - but mighty xA represented. Scion's brand new offering for 2008, the xD, was in the house though only two or three examples spoke for the line. All told, close to 400 Scion vehicles converged on the Dodger Stadium staging area. (354 cars actually made the drive up the coast.)
Car clubs came out in force with drivers representing Scion Evolution, So Cal tC, Scion Image, Scikotics, and Team Sciontific. People came from as far away as San Diego, Northern California, Oregon and Phoenix, Arizona to participate in the rally. Solo drivers, couples, families, and friends showed up. Owners walked around, checked out the other cars, met each other, and just took in the first Scion Superhighway event.
The call time was 8am. By 9:30, many participants began to have the same idea and started looking for restrooms. There weren't any. Not even a port-a-potty.
With the meeting and greeting winding down, drivers were ready to literally get the show on the road. Word got around about a possible 10:30 departure. That soon became 11am. Rumors swirled that the convoy was waiting for the camera chopper to arrive. Impatient, drivers started revving engines and honking horns. The horns had sounds as varied as the vehicles that housed them, ranging from standard to ‘oogah’ to one that sounded like an air horn from a train's locomotive.
Finally the helicopter arrived at 11:15. Relieved drivers jumped in their rides and fired up their engines. It took 20 minutes to empty parking lot. The departure could have been executed a little better. Directional signage would have prevented a wrong turn by 50 or so drivers. Stopping traffic for 5 minutes would have allowed all of the participants to exit at same time without getting separated. And it would have made for a better photo from the chopper with all 350 cars hitting the road together.
One of the first signs of the effect the massive parade of Scions had was on an elderly Asian couple walking down the street. They watched as one after another Scion rolled by. The husband pointed them out to his wife, almost in disbelief at the number of cars. The convoy got plenty of looks, many approving, most curious as to what was going on with this endless line of Scions.
When the group entered the south Harbor Freeway, they had to merge in with a motorcycle caravan of at least 100 members. They appeared to be out for their Sunday ride. Fortunately no feathers were ruffled. The Scion line peeled off onto the northbound 101 and the rally was on.
It was a beautiful day for a drive up the California coast. Ocean in view. Few, if any clouds in the sky. The only visible haze stayed offshore, hovering over the oil rigs. Temps were in the low to mid 80's. A perfect day to drive with the sunroof wide open. Drivers rolled along this storied highway for close to two hours en route to their secret destination.
At the Las Positas exit, three kids sat wide-eyed in their yard as hundreds of Scions drove by them. At the light, three xBs with lifts cut loose, bouncing and tilting, showing off for the kids. The xB in line right behind them didn't have hydraulics, but that didn't stop the passenger from bouncing up and down in her seat pretending that it did.
The secret location turned out to be Elings Park in Santa Barbara. Nestled in the hills, hidden from the road, the secluded park provided the ideal location for the Scions-only shindig. When the caravan drove up, Scion had the party ready and waiting to jump off. A big stage complete with DJs anchored the scene, with the DJs holding down the hosting duties. There were carnival games, plenty of food and drinks, and a plenty of space to walk around. In the center of it all was a big tent with truckloads of free gear inside. Owners scored T-shirts, exclusive Scion sampler CDs, hats, socks, and badge-holders. Scion had xB, tC, and xD project cars on display.
Show cars parked in a designated area. Owners walked through the area checking out the various ways owners tricked out their rides. Modifications ran the gamut from simple to sick. Judges roamed the rows of entrants, taking notes and in many cases asking owners to demonstrate what their vehicles could do. Occasionally a “chuff, chuff” sound was heard coming from a car as the owner raised or lowered their ride. Trophies were awarded for best in class in categories such as interior, exterior, and engine modification.
Scion had some serious give-aways. Throughout the afternoon, 5 sets of rims were given out to lucky owners. xA and xB owners got to pick parts for their vehicles from a stack of parts in the tent termed the Scion xA/xB Parts Yard. Toward the end of the event, Scion wheel covers were given out.
Scion sure knows how to treat their customers. Events like this make owners glad they bought one. Events like this make people who saw the rally want to buy one. Judging from the smiles on the faces of those who participated and the response on the owner forums, the first Scion Superhighway was a huge success.
Children of the Revolutionary
August 17, 2007
I ran across this article in the LA Weekly called “Children of the Revolutionary”. The subtitle is what caught my eye: “Former black revolutionary Watani Stiner turned himself in to San Quentin so his children could come to America. Was it worth it?”
It is was a very touching article, especially considering how easily this could have happened to almost any black male in 1960’s Los Angeles. Check it out.
I ran across this article in the LA Weekly called “Children of the Revolutionary”. The subtitle is what caught my eye: “Former black revolutionary Watani Stiner turned himself in to San Quentin so his children could come to America. Was it worth it?”
It is was a very touching article, especially considering how easily this could have happened to almost any black male in 1960’s Los Angeles. Check it out.
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