An educator, an activist, and a photojournalist, Mev Puleo died in 1996. She passed way too soon at 32 years old. But her passion lives on in her writing and her spirit. Two years before her death she published “The Struggle is One: Voices and Visions of Liberation” – an amazing reflection and compassionate work on the force of liberation theology. Puleo opens her book on an early life journey: “I was fourteen years old, touring Rio de Janeiro with my family, when I first rode that bus to the statue on the hill. That day, as images of opulence and misery rocked my world, a crisis of conscience took root in me.”
Too few of us, when we ride that bus to the statue on the hill, even notice the chasm between opulence and misery, even fewer have a crisis of conscience. If you know anything about Mumia Abu-Jamal, you already know this: when he rode the bus to the statue on the hill, the images of opulence and misery rocked his world and a crisis of conscience took deep root in his soul.
Liberation theology – the political and spiritual movement that understands the teachings of Jesus Christ as an emancipation from the repressive reality of unjust political, economic, and social tyranny – has come under attack from the sadistic gatekeepers of Christendom and their armed forces employed by the American Empire. Liberation theologians and those who become naturally aligned with the justice they offer are attacked as being Marxist and communist and because these movements have dared to challenge the status quo, also known as predatory capitalism. Liberation theology, and those who subscribe to its compassionate tenets, see injustice through the eyes of the poor and then struggle to demolish the ties that bind. For a crash course, check out the murderous U.S. actions that have wrecked havoc throughout Latin America over the past countless decades, especially at the hands of the Central Intelligence Agency (read “Masters of War” by Clara Nieto, experience your government and tax dollars at work).
So this past week, three giants of liberation theology rolled into the Keystone State: Cornel West, James Cone, and Chris Hedges. Prophetic every time they utter a word, these three dudes visited Mumia this past week at SCI Mahanoy – one of America’s franchised gulags, this one in rural eastern Pennsylvania on land once bursting with high luster anthracite coal. “It was like four nerds just kickin’ it,” Mumia told me. “Man, you would have been the fifth.” Flattering, but just call me Pete Best.
Chris Hedges and I visited Mumia back in December and we decided this visit needed to happen. Dr. West and Dr. Cone needed to finally meet Mumia… and Mumia needed to finally meet these two vanguards of revolutionary thought, men who have influenced Mumia greatly, and of course vice versa… men who have both written forwards to Mumia’s books yet never entered the bowels of hell from where this wrongly convicted journalist has worked and lived for the past 30-plus years.
But this past week they did. Chris told me, “Steve, it was, as you might expect, very moving. Watching Mumia being affirmed with such enthusiasm and passion by two of the greatest African-American intellectuals in the country was, for me, a powerful and special moment. Mumia was crying when we left.” Then today (Wednesday, May 15), Chris Hedges was a guest on Pacifica’s DemocracyNow and Amy Goodman asked Hedges about his recent visits with Julian Assange and then his visit with Mumia. Chris said:
“I think the courage of a Manning, the courage of an Assange, the courage of a Mumia – I mean, how that man remains unbroken. I was there with Cornel West and the theologian James Cone. I mean it was a privilege for me. I mean, three of probably the greatest African-American intellectuals in the country, and certainly radicals. It’s those people who hold fast to the kind of moral imperative, or hold fast to the capacity for dissent, whether that’s Manning, who exhibited—I was in the courtroom when he read his statement—tremendous courage, poise, whether that’s Assange, whether that’s Mumia, let’s look at where all those three people are, because for all of us who speak out, that’s where they want us to be, as well. And that gets back to this AP story, because that is exactly the process that we are undergoing and where—if they win, where we’re headed.”
Imagine Mumia interacting with the likes of Cornel West, James Cone, and Chris Hedges on a regular basis – free and unencumbered. Imagine that happening all the time, as a matter of course. Imagine if that was happening over the last thirty some-odd years, those stolen years that these sadistic bastards have taken from Mumia, from us, thirty some-odd years that they’ve railroaded him into their so-called justice system.
Well, I do. It’s why I made “Long Distance Revolutionary.” It’s why Mev Puleo lived her life the way she did. It’s why Cone and West, now both at Union Theological Seminary, undertake a life of compassionate and revolutionary action. It’s why Mumia does the exact same… it’s because when we first rode that bus to the statue on the hill, images of opulence and misery rocked our world, and then a crisis of conscience took root in our lives.
Written by Stephen Vittoria (Washington, D.C.) When it comes to the film showing around the country, three cities have especially significant meaning in terms of what they represent to Mumia Abu-Jamal’s story as well as his career-long critique of the American Empire: Beverly Hills, Washington D.C., and of course the so-called “City of Brotherly Love,” Philadelphia.
A Bright and Guilty Place When we knew we were opening in Los Angeles, my home, we had a choice of various locales. As you know, LA sprawls out forever. We chose the Laemmle Music Hall in Beverly Hills because more than any other theater it was centrally located and it’s a great old venerable theater with a giant marquee – and on March 1 it advertised “MUMIA.” Then it hit me: Mumia (the long distance critic regarding the inherent evils of capitalism and class oppression and how wealth skews the reality of the human condition) is headlining at the theater that’s right in the heart of a city that symbolizes the opulence of greed and avarice… the materialism that warps the soul and buries our goodness even deeper beneath the surface. Plain and simple: Beverly Hills is the iconic representation of financial gluttony.
When I told Mumia about the play date in Beverly Hills on the main artery that dissects Tinseltown, that “Long Distance Revolutionary” was opening in the playground of those who just lavished praise and gold on two myths (Lincoln & Argo) at their masturbatory Academy Awards, he had a long and hearty laugh.
The American Rome Playing Washington D.C. was also über important because it positions the critique of Empire and all its associated murderous tendencies right in the belly of the beast of New Rome… and the audience embraced the film, the story, Mumia, and the critique of the American mandarins with inspired passion.
One of my journalistic heroes, Dave Zirin, was in attendance (he’s also in the film) and began the Question & Answer session with an impassioned statement about the importance of the film and that LDR was a much-needed alternative look at Mumia’s life that rightly focused on the magnitude of his journalistic wherewithal. That meant a great deal to me.
DC was also a triumph because Eisa Nefertari Ulen’s piece in yesterday’s Washington Post was incredible – she got the film in a way that restores (for a nanosecond) my faith in the Fourth Estate – albeit a government-run entity. I guess this outstanding look at the film slipped through the proverbial cracks. Thanks Eisa.
My only regret in DC is that the current resident triggerman in the White House didn’t stop by. He needs to see the film. Badly.
Philos Adelphos On May 3, this Friday, at Landmark Theater’s “Ritz at the Bourse,” Philadelphia’s native son, Mumia Abu-Jamal, once known as Wesley Cook, comes home… this time with his life story intact, unabridged, and sans the lies, innuendo, and mythical gibberish. This is the city where on 9 December 1981 lives changed forever. It is a day that will live in infamy, especially between the Delaware and Schuylkill rivers, between Germantown to the west and Holmesburg to the east.
In many respects, May 3 – the day “Mumia: Long Distance Revolutionary” opens in Philadelphia – is a day of reckoning for a kid friends called Wesley, and for a man we now call Mumia. No t-shirts, slogans, bumper stickers, or yelling – either in support of or with malicious intent. It’s a story about courage, about overcoming the repressive apparatus of forces hell-bent on enslaving the human spirit. Ultimately, it’s a story that offers an alternative to Beverly Hills (avarice), Washington D.C. (Murder Incorporated), and Philadelphia, Pennsylvania (lies).
Written by Stephen Vittoria (Los Angeles) Back when the film “Titanic” came out, LA Times film critic Kenneth Turan wrote a negative review of James Cameron’s sweeping love story set aboard the great ocean liner that ended up at the bottom of the North Atlantic on its maiden run. Cameron was so incensed with Turan’s review that he contacted the Times’ editors and called for them to fire the critic. C’mon, Jim, really? Fire the dude because he didn’t like your movie? Can’t handle a little criticism? You let Kenny Turan get to you? Say it ain’t so, Jimmy. You have all that money, all that fame, statues galore, you’re on your what? Fifth wife? People quake in your presence. And Kenny Turan rankles your feathers? Really?
C’mon, Jim, he just reviewed my movie with another one of his lazy reviews… said I offered a “skewed view” of Mumia Abu-Jamal. He said that Mumia would be “the perfect subject for an investigative documentary that explored his life and thought with a calm and even hand. ‘Mumia: Long Distance Revolutionary’ is not that film.” Reasonable people can disagree. Personally, I think Kenny’s full of shit because I’m very calm, blood pressure like 111 over 64… it’s just that the status quo gatekeepers like Kenny just ain’t used to people way over here on the anarchist, socialist, communist, Trotskyite, vegan left who aren’t afraid to actually pound their chest with alternatives and what the Kenny Turan’s of the world consider to be radical thought. It freaks the lily-white liberals out. They start doubling down on NPR, Rachel Maddow, and cases of chardonnay.
“Mumia” was #1 in Los Angeles for newly released documentaries on our first weekend and we earned a second week at Laemmle’s Music Hall, more shows in Pasadena and Claremont, and a date opening in the Republic of Santa Monica at Laemmle’s 4-Plex. The audiences have been so passionate, so engaged, so in touch with this film… and Kenny Turan’s review drifts into the digital mist and the hard copy fishwrap lines the bottom of garbage cans and cat litter boxes.
They say LA is where documentaries go to die - not this "Long Distance Revolutionary." When I told Mumia on the phone this week that his story was number one in the heart of the Empire’s myth-making machine and blocks away from Rodeo Drive – capitalism’s diamond ring – he had a long, gratifying, and hearty laugh. Audiences of all colors, shapes, and ages eschewed the mainstream naysayers and embraced an alternative narrative about their history and the current state of their country. That’s what gave Mumia so much joy – that his words are cutting through the embroidery of lies and myths that remain the foundation of America. His laugh echoed through the empty hallways of the American Empire.
Richard Rayner wrote what is arguably one of the best books about LA’s scandalous coming of age – and the title sums up the historic crux of this place: “A Bright and Guilty Place.” In fact, never is this place shallower and guiltier of cultural crimes against the people than when basking in the afterbirth of the Academy Awards – the motion picture business’s masturbatory exercise in narcissistic rapture… some folks bordering on adrenal apoplexy.
So it is all too fitting that “MUMIA: Long Distance Revolutionary” opens on Wilshire Boulevard in Beverly Hills just days after the big event when one myth (Argo) won Best Picture over two other myths (Zero Dark Thirty and Lincoln). The biggest myth surrounding the state of mind known as “Hollywood” is the goofy right wing’s belief and bed-wetting yelps about those so-called “liberal Hollywood types” – Babs and Hanks and Spielberg and all the others who have been lining the pockets of the current trigger man in the White House for some time now. I guess murder and neo-liberal predatory actions are okay as long as your guy is in charge. If “Hollywood” is “liberal” then Attila the Hun is Gandhi. Sometimes there are those here who even fashion themselves as revolutionary warriors fighting for justice. Yeah, sure…
Which brings to mind an exchange in the film between Cornel West and Hurricane Carter. It kind of sums up the Empire’s myth making machine here on the Left Coast: --
CORNEL WEST Mumia is a very distinctive kind of celebrity. He’s a celebrity that calls into question the superficiality of most celebrities.
RUBIN CARTER I wanted to go see Mumia for myself… and the next day I was going to fly on a private jet going to LA hoping, vainly it seemed, that Denzel Washington would win the Academy Award as the starring actor in the movie “The Hurricane.”
CORNEL WEST You juxtapose Mumia Abu-Jamal with Oprah Winfrey… you know that is like John Coltrane and Kenny G. You know what I mean? It’s like, good god almighty, you got depth, tremendous sacrifice, willingness to bare any cost – that’s Coltrane, that’s Mumia Abu-Jamal.
RUBIN CARTER The contrast between the two places was so extreme because there I was sitting with Mumia and he was daring to dream from Death Row.
CORNEL WEST Oprah is an entrepreneurial genius, we know that, but thin, superficial, well adjusted to the injustice of society even as she surfaces.
RUBIN CARTER And then the next day I rode in this private jet to Hollywood, you know to the plush limousines, the plush suits and dresses… and the empty eyes of Hollywood. Nobody was dreaming there.
CORNEL WEST You never hear her talking about critiques of Wall Street. You never hear her talking about critiques of capital. You never hear her talking about the plight of poor people. You never hear voices on her show that allow that vision to be heard. Never. She is a success. American style.
American style indeed… Style over substance, myth over reality. That’s why it’s so poignant that “Long Distance Revolutionary” opens in LA right in the belly of the beast… but this isn’t unusual for Mumia: his courageous words and revolutionary actions have been targeting the heart of the American Empire since he was fifteen years old.
Written by Stephen Vittoria (at 36,000 feet) Four years ago, I began walking down a road that I knew was right, that I knew was worthy, that I knew was winding its way toward the heart of justice. This weekend, in New York City – the island that sits hard between rivers East and Hudson – was home for our film “Mumia: Long Distance Revolutionary” – and rightly so. It is, after all, the center of the universe… so if Mumia’s tragic, joyous, and courageous story was to debut, it should be in the center of the universe… and debut it did.
People came and they kept coming. They packed the house. They engaged in a passionate and interactive experience – a film that calls into question and unabashedly takes on what Dick Gregory and others have called “the myth and reality of American history.” They were looking for an alternative to the lies and gibberish they’ve been fed by the gatekeepers at the door, the mouthpieces for the state, the so-called Fourth Estate, the country club members who make sure that the status quo is protected, revered, adored, and used as the indoctrination shot to the brain. Some of the reviews from the mainstream press are precious in how obvious and predictable they can be. In fact, leading up to the release of the film, we were already speculating and bantering about what their critiques would sound like… “journalists” who rail against documentary filmmakers (and other independent journalists for that matter) for having the audacity to exhibit a strong point of view. It freaks them out. They throw around terms like agit-prop and hagiography to define a narrative that has the strength to stake a claim and then back it all up with undeniable facts, strong research, and incisive third-party credibility. They continue to enable the mythmakers to spin their vindictive venom about Mumia. These puppets would have told Frederick Douglass to shut up, just like they told Dr. Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr. to shut up when he called the U.S. Government “the greatest purveyor of violence on the planet.”
First newsflash: there are no objective documentaries or documentary filmmakers, or journalists, or historians. We are all influenced by a million factors and that influence molds the narrative. Filmmakers that say they have “no agenda” are lying to you. We all do – some of us just wear it on our sleeve. Ask Michael Moore.
And the best part of their pathetic attack is that they never attack the facts or the research or the salient moments in the film. Ask Julian Assange how much support he’s received from the so-called press. They don’t attack the veracity of the material he releases or the deadly consequences he’s trying to shine a light on, no – these fellow “journalists” attack his right to release the material, or more specifically, YOU’RE RIGHT TO READ AND KNOW ABOUT THE MATERIAL.
In the film, I offered a preemptive strike if you will to this type of “gate-keeping” by the corporate sell-out press:
“It’s interesting how mainstream journalists are never questioned when they’re embedded with troops or hob-nobbing at cocktail parties with generals and corporate criminals. In fact, the conglomerates that sell news never truly challenge the status quo... nor will they will ever speak truth to power.”
Journalist Amy Goodman has asked the rhetorical question that best puts these swine to sleep: “If we had state run media in this country, how would it be any different than what we have right now?” Right on, Amy.
This line of thought brings to mind a 1963 interview with Marcel Duchamp talking about his painting "Nude Descending a Staircase" created in 1912 and it became the “succes de scandale” at the famous 1913 Armory Art Show, a work that was reviled by critics when first exhibited in NYC. When the interviewer asked Duchamp if he was resentful of the way the press had received the painting, his response was revolutionary as well: "No. I was delighted to be the ‘succes de scandal’ because for me it was a form of revolutionary action. You see if I were accepted with opens arms that would be the opposite of what I wanted...it wouldn't have fulfilled my intentions. After all, the idea of the Cubists at the time was to be entirely revolutionary and disturb completely every conception of art as it was accepted at that time. Upset the standards… In other words, you little by little get your own little group of people who are with you fighting the big mass against you."
So here’s a second newsflash for our beloved scribes: the audiences simply don’t care about the myth (and impossibility) of so-called objectivity. When given the opportunity to experience an alternative narrative like “Long Distance Revolutionary,” one that doesn’t toe the line of governmental and corporate approval, they gravitate to it with a passion rarely seen… because they know bullshit when they see it and they know the attack on Mumia’s character and story has been well-orchestrated and manipulated from the beginning. Hell, the mainstream press has had thirty years of unspoiled “fun” when it came to this story – a one sided narrative if there’s ever been one. So as Oscar Wilde suggested decades ago – the artist’s responsibility to history is to re-write it.
Now, here’s the beauty part: the audience came and they embraced “Long Distance Revolutionary” with love, with zeal, and of course with some piss and vinegar as well because you can’t experience the injustice at the core of Mumia’s story without getting pissed off. Now, here’s the intriguing part: the audience showed up… and they kept showing up. All weekend long – right through that masturbatory spectacle known as the Super Bowl. In fact, the film performed so well that the good folks at Cinema Village and First Run Features have held the documentary over for another week, until February 14.
And it’s easy to see why: Mumia’s story of victory, transcendence, and courage is also their story. They are connected in ways that the concrete walls of prison cannot stop. Poet Aya de Leon makes this infinitely clear in the third act of the film with her brilliant spoken word poem In the Flesh:
“No prison walls, cellblock iron bars, solitary hell-hole, death-row speech ban bullshit will ever, ever hold his spirit… There are forces stronger than the State ofPennsylvania and the governor, and there are forces stronger than bars and brick and barbed wire. Didn’t we shout with glee when you freed Geronimo Ji Jaga? Did I cry for joy when you freed Nelson Mandela? Let him be free- in the flesh.”
Written by Stephen Vittoria (Somewhere over the Rainbow at 37,000 feet)
I have this dream. It’s February 1, 2013 and it’s in the city that sits hard between the rivers East and Hudson. It’s inside the historic Riverside Church, the place where the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. had arguably his finest moment – a moment when King became a superhero, a moment when King climbed on the back of empire and spoke bravely about the evils of capitalism, the evils of militarism, and of course the evils of racism. At Riverside Church in April of 1967, exactly one year before the day he was murdered in Memphis, King sharpened his pen and drove it right into the heart of the American Empire. He masterfully merged the various evils of his day – the murder spree in Southeast Asia, the bludgeoning of the poor by predatory capitalism, and the terror exerted for centuries by a racist nation – into one cohesive and connected message of peace and sanity for humankind. The so-called liberal press of the day – The New York Times, The Washington Post, Newsweek, and all the other fish wraps – eviscerated King in a barrage of vindictive fury. But King never missed a step. He withstood the hurricane winds of rage that whipped out of the white supremacist noise machine – for King knew, after climbing his mountain that the Empire had run amok. King knew that the battle lay before him.
It is here where this dream materializes. Riverside Church, 1 February 2013… and in this dream the film “Long Distance Revolutionary” doesn’t exist. There is no need for it to exist because in the pulpit – the same pulpit King undressed the Empire forty-five years ago – stands Mumia Abu-Jamal. Fifty-eight years old. Dreads. Glasses. And of course rough and tumble clothes. His booming message to a packed chamber echoes and expands King’s denunciation of the Empire, of war, of poverty, of the injustices that plague this nation and this world. Like I said, in this dream, there’s no reason for a two-hour documentary because Mumia is a free man – there’s no need for a film to capture his life, his revolutionary fight, his courageous message, his rage against the machine. Because Mumia walks free and has been a current day Frederick Douglass for decades… an amalgamation of many great and courageous revolutionaries but in a style and manner all his own.
Also in this dream, America is a little bit better; the fight for healthcare, living wages, environmental justice, and the never-ending battle against war and violence is a little farther down the road. And we’re there because the powers that be have not silenced and shackled Mumia for thirty-plus years, the powers that be have not moved mountains to surgically remove his black presence, as well as his ability to fight and speak for others.
But the reality of February 1, 2013 is that Mumia Abu-Jamal is not free. He continues to exist – along with so many others – in a living and breathing hell. Indeed, his spirit runs free, his soul beckons the light, and his words are read and heard around the world by some, but his shackles, the ties that bind, the terror of thirty-plus years on Death Row, in solitary, marginalize and diminish his impact. History will recognize his impact but history can be cruel in its timing. It’s like what Dick Gregory says in the film:
“One day we will find out that he was the voice of America – the voice of America is a fraud.”
The dream, at least for this moment, is gone. Mumia remains inside what Cornel West calls, “a prison cell in the U.S. repressive apparatus.” But this dream turned nightmare has a temporary silver lining, a band-aid, a bridge loan for you economics majors out there… and it is “Long Distance Revolutionary,” opening in New York City this weekend, February 1 at Cinema Village in the most famous of villages.
Many believe the film is the definitive work on this man’s life. I’m honored when I read that because the narrative that has been perpetuated by the ugly and soulless mainstream public relations machine – also known as the American media – has been a mix of racist lies and outright gibberish.
The corrupt swine may have effectively silenced and unplugged Mumia’s full potential as an agent of revolutionary change, but not this weekend, not this week in the greatest village in the greatest city on earth, the center of the universe, hard between rivers East and Hudson.
Written by Stephen Vittoria (37,000 feet – Newark to Los Angeles)
Where to start?
I guess this long nightmare must start in the early morning hours of 9 December 1981. Lives were changed forever: Patrolman Daniel Faulkner, his young wife Maureen, their families, and then of course the subject of my new documentary, Mumia Abu-Jamal, and his family. Any semblance of innocence for all of these terrestrial children was abruptly jettisoned out into the cosmos, launched from a cold and harsh Philadelphia night. The victims of this tragedy were pitted against each other long before any of them were even born – unwitting players in an ugly American passion play.
There is no doubt in my mind, my heart, and my soul that Mumia Abu-Jamal is an innocent man. The case was, as Bob Dylan called Hurricane Carter’s case, “a pig circus.” Read J. Patrick O’Connor’s book “The Framing of Mumia Abu-Jamal” and experience the work of a true investigative journalist. The person who killed Daniel Faulkner got away with murder. He (or she) walks free to this day or could also be six feet under. We may never know. Most people have no idea that Mumia was also shot that night, ripped to within an inch of his life. In fact, with a bullet lodged in his chest cavity and bloody, Mumia was beaten by Philadelphia cops on his way to the hospital – a ride that took forty-five minutes to go three blocks.
After recovering from his gunshot wounds and surgery, Mumia wrote an essay entitled "A Christmas Cage." In it, he describes the beatings he suffered at the hands of the Philadelphia police on the night of his arrest.
“Nowhere have I read how police found me, lying in a pool of my blood, unable to breathe, and then proceeded to punch, kick, and stomp me – not question me. I remember being rammed into a pole or a fireplug with police at both arms. I remember kicks to my head, my face, my chest… but I have read no press accounts, and have heard tell of no witnesses… Where are the witnesses to a police captain or inspector entering the wagon and beating me with a police radio, all the while addressing me as a "Black motherfucker?" Where are the witnesses…?”
This tragedy – like most tragedies – has many lives. Hatred, fear, and the human inability to rise above the ugly complexities of a society and culture in decline (think “entropy”) are the fuel canisters that keep this tragedy burning.
First and foremost in this tragedy we find racism – and no group of people have ever embraced and utilized racism better than the people of the United States. For centuries, Americans – from slave master Thomas Jefferson to the Grand Wizard of the Ku Klux Klan – have raised racism to their own art form. Their actions have wrecked havoc on people of color… not only in this stolen land but also across the planet. Don’t take my word for it. Just ask History a few questions. And the racism that drips from Philadelphia history – past and present – is a unique and remarkable strain that continues to eat away at the souls of men… and women… and children in the so-called City of Brotherly Love. It is a strain that keeps innocent people chained to the hell and farce otherwise known as “correctional institutions.” In fact, in 2012, the very real horror of mass incarceration – especially incarcerating poor people, who are disproportionally black and brown – is a horror of immense proportions, one that has evolved and taken over from the so-called ashes of slavery and Jim Crow. It is this same strain of racism that targeted Mumia Abu-Jamal as a 14-year old revolutionary fighting for justice as a young Panther, and it is this strain of racism that ultimately railroaded him into prison for a crime he did not commit.
Former Philadelphia Black Panther Party captain, the late Reggie Schell, says it best in Long Distance Revolutionary: “When they saw who they had, this was number one. ‘Wow, look what we done ran into. We got a Panther and we're going to kill this Panther. We're going to kill this nigger here, right here.’” Truer words have never been spoken, especially when you factor in the words of the trial judge in Mumia’s case – the Dishonorable Albert F. Sabo, who boasted in chambers: “I’m going to help them fry the nigger.” This statement by Sabo is indicative of the venom and rancor and acrimony that runs through the story of 9 December 1981 like a river of tears.
And where does the blame for this horror story lie?
Right at the feet of the Philadelphia political power structure that built their careers on the pain, suffering, and torture of Mumia Abu-Jamal. This group of Machiavellian snakes slithered out from under the foundational bedrock of American racism and went to work using the age-old tools of hatred and fear. This modern day lynch mob, by-products of a white supremacist culture and backed up by centuries of racist fear mongering, let slip the dogs of war, easily manipulating the victims, the press, as well as the court of public opinion – all of whom are co-conspirators in this miscarriage of justice. They lied. They fabricated. And worst of all, they won. They beat the truth, they beat mercy, and they beat forgiveness – the three things they waste their time supposedly searching for in their vacuous houses of worship.
I tell you all of that to tell you this.
Because there’s a group of dedicated, committed, and steadfast warriors who have been fighting for Mumia Abu-Jamal’s freedom for all these years… all these years he was “chained” in the hole on death row, his own Middle Passage… all these years that he has fought the corrupt machine that is attempting to eat him alive, this pack of opportunistic cannibals that have stolen his life, his children’s lives… all these years that he has existed in hell. Like I said, there’s a lot of tragedy to go around – on both sides of 9 December 1981.
But oh these warriors… they are unswerving in their drive to free this innocent man. I’m reminded of what Gabriel Bryant (a student from Temple who is interviewed in the film) called this somewhat amorphous group of freedom fighters during his interview – “warriors for justice.” Indeed.
So on Saturday night, the eve of the “anniversary” of 9 December 1981, there was a remarkable screening of “Long Distance Revolutionary: A Journey with Mumia Abu-Jamal” at Temple University in Philadelphia. The Department of African American Studies and Dr. Tony Montiero invited us to screen the film for some 600 students, activists, community leaders, as well as the general public. It was the last special screening before the film opens in theaters on February 1, 2013.
The giant theater was packed. There was electricity in the room. You could cut the anticipation with a knife. And we played the film… and this large group of tenacious “warriors for justice” embraced every moment of Mumia’s extraordinary life – from his days fighting the good fight on the streets of Frank Rizzo’s Fiefdom to his days fighting the same good fight from solitary confinement, always the “voice of the voiceless.”
The screening was intense and interactive. The film offered the audience the definitive and untold narrative of Mumia’s life… and the audience offered him back their love. Plain and simple, that was the deal… and I was honored to have a part in that exchange. Like Che said and I paraphrase, "At the risk of sounding ridiculous, a revolutionary is guided by feelings of love and for love of the people.” That’s what was going on at Temple on Saturday night. It was a moment in time when these brave warriors for justice were able to celebrate what they’ve always known: that the man they fight so hard for is so goddamn worth it. And then after the screening, we had a Q&A and the love connection in that room remained palpable. It’s what makes making films like this worth every ounce of effort.
For years, this group of unyielding warriors has fought for truth and justice, and for years they have been pummeled by a corrupt and monstrous machine… but they are not beat. No way. Far from it. They will not rest until this ugly and cancerous strain of racism that inflicts this country and their city is lifted and Mumia Abu-Jamal is a free man.
Today, for five very plugged-in hours, Chris Hedges and I visited Mumia Abu-Jamal at the State Correctional Institution at Mahanoy, a dank prison buried deep in the woods of eastern Pennsylvania. First, a bit about Chris…
… who is an oddity in American journalism today: he muckrakes in the courageous tradition of I.F. “Izzy” Stone, Upton Sinclair, and many other historic journalists – names that the current lapdogs in the American press wouldn’t know if the names were stapled to their forehead. Chris has become one of the most widely read journalists anywhere – respected by many for his gutsy stance against the ongoing evils of empire. A Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist, Chris was an overseas bureau chief for the New York Times until his outspoken criticism of Washington’s rush to slaughter and war in Iraq led to a confrontation with Times management and his subsequent resignation. At the Occupy AIPAC (American Israel Public Affairs Committee) protest in Washington D.C., he stood up and bravely exposed AIPAC for being “a mouthpiece for right-wing ideologues… who believe that because they have the capacity to war wage they have a right to wage war, whose loyalty, in the end, is not to the citizens of Israel or Palestine or the United States but the corporate elites, the defense contractors, those who make war a business.” The Los Angeles Press Club named Hedges Online Journalist of the Year in 2009 and 2011. Hedges is a senior fellow at The Nation Institute and has taught at Columbia, New York, and Princeton Universities. He’s written twelve books. I thoroughly enjoyed the best-selling “American Fascists: The Christian Right and the War on America.”
Back to SCI Mahanoy on a rain-drenched, 33 degree December day. As we’re checking in, it dawns on me: I’m starting to get to know the guards. I’m not sure if that’s good, bad, or just normal. Me: “Hey, how you doing? Him: “Good. Jamal?” Me: “Yeah, AM8335.” Him: “Yeah, I know.” Ion tests, pat down, x-ray machine, and it’s that long walk down that long hallway. Chris also visits prisons a lot. In fact he teaches inside prisons. A worthy endeavor.
As is always the case with Mumia, as soon as a new acquaintance sits down with him it's as if they've known each other for twenty years. We spoke in depth about the continued vicious march of Manifest Destiny - 21st century style - as well as the crisis of the American Empire. Chris is about to teach a class at Union Theological Seminary about empire and war, and Mumia and I are writing our new book "Murder Incorporated," so we had a scary confluence of similar ideas and thoughts. We shared lists of books that research on this broad topic (read: ugly reality) cannot do without.
We talked about the US Government's infiltration and disruption of the Occupy Movement, reminiscent of similar actions undertaken during the dark days of COINTELPRO. Chris has been an important voice for Occupy and had some intriguing first hand stories. We talked a lot about the big bizness of the prison industrial complex and the stranglehold net it throws over Black youth across the country. We even talked about the three images you would always find proudly displayed in the parlor of black homes during the sixties: MLK, JFK, and a blue-eyed Jesus. It was decided that JFK was the imposter of the three, unless Oliver Stone is in the room.
And as always, there were lots of laughs... Mumia and I caught up on The Walking Dead, the damn photo machine was broken again, we ate lunch from the venerable vending machines, and we bid goodbye. As we were walking back down the long hallway it occurred to me (again) that this was a great meeting of the minds (mine excluded) of two great journalists - one who's reported from every corner of the planet and one who's reported during the same time period from a deep hole in America's gulag. And the amazing part is that they operate as equals with pen, paper, and guts... and Chris would agree, with Mumia at a ridiculous disadvantage of existing in hell. And yet, his journalism happens, his historical swipe of the pen happens. Chris (God bless him) has everything at his fingertips. Mumia nothing - except his extraordinary intellect and innate talent. The rest for Mumia, as far as I'm concerned, is Frederick Douglass and Harriet Tubman and James Baldwin pulsing through his veins like those before them pulsed through their veins.
Bringing these two great journalists together for five hours proved one thing to me, something I already knew, but the confirmation is nice: Mumia Abu-Jamal, the journalist, the writer, the historian, can play on an even playing field with anyone, even giants. That is why his voice must continue to be heard, continue to reach around the world. It's like what former US Attorney General Ramsey Clark says in "Long Distance Revolutionary" - "Mumia’s words should be taught to schoolchildren. We’d be a better people and a better country."
From “No Compromise in Copenhagen” to “No Compromise in NYC.”
The same questions keep cropping up about my execution of the film’s narrative: why so radical? Why not offer a narrative that won’t alienate folks who aren’t ready to embrace such a harsh look at the myth and reality of American history? – and how that history targets revolutionaries for love like Mumia Abu-Jamal. One very respectful gentleman asked that question during the Q&A at New York’s great documentary festival, DOC NYC. I answered immediately: “Not for a nanosecond did I consider compromising on telling Mumia’s story as we journey through the very real and very cruel killing fields of the American Empire.” My answer brought to mind this passage from Mumia’s writings that I couldn’t immediately recall for the audience that cold November evening in The Big Apple: "Love is the Force that keeps this Universe—the Omniverse—all that is—in existence. It keeps life alive. It holds atoms in place. It
keeps the earth from spinning off into the sun. How could Africans have survived for four centuries in this prisonhouse, this white madhouse, if not for Love?"
Mumia called me on Thanksgiving and we spoke for awhile – spoke about our ongoing work on our book in progress, about the craziness of “celebrating” Thanksgiving (read: genocide and slaughter), and then we addressed this ongoing question of compromise and Mumia remembered a simple but epic quote from John Africa (the founder of MOVE) who said, “Never compromise. To compromise is to admit defeat.” And when Mumia remembered these words, I realized again why Mumia can’t be beat, why he has transcended prison, why – like Lucinda Williams says – we say “thank you to the prisoner who taught us how to be free.” He refuses to compromise… because once you’ve seen the light, you can’t go back – and the freedom associated with knowing the truth can also prove to be a very heavy cross to bear.
Back to DOC NYC, which proved to be another great screening and experience with “Long Distance Revolutionary.” Juan Gonzalez – investigative journalist extraordinaire from the NY Daily News and DemocracyNow! – was our host and offered a workmanlike performance moderating the evening. Johanna Fernandez – professor at CUNY and the writer & producer of the excellent and eye-opening film “Justice on Trial: The Case of Mumia Abu-Jamal” – made an impassioned plea why NOW is the time for those who care about justice to support the long-overdue release of Mumia Abu-Jamal. The evening had the feel of an old time revival meeting. It’s a gift when a film motivates an audience in that manner.
The next day we hung out at the New York Historical Society. Sunday in New York… and it reminded me how much I miss being home. Here’s a picture of me with Frederick Douglass. He seems a little stiff but still just as relevant. Unfortunately, they put his statue on the side of the building, in the shadows, while the Abe Lincoln statue stands prominently on the front steps… surprise, surprise.
I was excited about bringing “Long Distance Revolutionary” to Copenhagen. When we submitted the film to CPH:DOX way back when, Katy Farzanrad and I knew that it was a vibrant, well-attended, and very “plugged-in” festival on the circuit… and it was Europe – a continent and a people that have embraced Mumia Abu-Jamal with open arms since the corrupt swine in this country imprisoned this revolutionary thirty-plus years ago. Like Cornel West eloquently says in the film:
“The state is very clever in terms of keeping track, especially with the courageous and visionary ones, the ones that are long distance runners. You can keep track of them, absorb em, dilute em, or outright kill em – you don't have to worry about opposition to em.”
The capital of Denmark, Copenhagen is an amazing old world city. Environmentally, it’s one of the cleanest and most “green” cities on the planet. Almost 40% of the city commutes by bicycle. And the people are remarkably peaceful, warm, and intelligent. They embrace culture… they embrace each other… and they embrace visitors. And one of those visitors they embraced at CPH:DOX with passion was a long distance revolutionary, a prisoner in the Empire’s gulag since 1982. Indeed, Copenhagen audiences took the journey with Mumia Abu-Jamal.
Our film was sponsored at the festival and our screenings were hosted by Amnesty International… and thank god for Amnesty International in the world – an organization and a movement that has the courage to say the most powerful word in any language to the fraudulent powers in charge everywhere: NO. And it’s a word Amnesty spoke to the cretins slithering around the halls of so-called justice in Pennsylvania when it came to Mumia’s circus of a trial (they said that Abu-Jamal’s original trial “was irredeemably tainted by politics and race and failed to meet international fair trial standards.”) Failed to meet international fair trial standards… in the land of the free and the home of the brave? C’mon, that’s hard to believe. Just like these rabble-rousers who want us to believe that this country was built on genocide, nurtured through slavery, and then evolved through war, murder, and mayhem. Can’t they just be happy like the good folks of Copenhagen? Oh wait, when was the last time Copenhagen slaughtered 3 million Southeast Asians, or hundreds of thousands of Iraqis? Or when did the leader of Copenhagen win a Nobel Peace Prize while bombing the shit out of brown people? Not recently at least. Well, screw all that reality. America is the greatest country on the face of the universe. Cue the F-18 flyover, strike up the Marine band…
Sorry, I digress.
As mentioned, Amnesty International hosted the screening and Trine Christensen was the moderator. Her thoughts about Mumia’s struggle before the film began were inspiring. She would have made a great interview for the film. (Oh well.)
The Empire Cinema in the Nørrebro district of Copenhagen is sort of a revolution itself. Since opening earlier this year, neighboring theatres have experienced a serious attendance drop. It’s easy to see why. The four-screen venue offers a movie experience somewhere between an East Village art house and a post-modern Pathe Multiplex but with serious Danish design. It’s the first new cinema in the capital city in nearly twenty-five years. We were fortunate to screen here… and the audience clearly was intrigued by the film and, of course, by Mumia’s story. We had a lively, substantive, and very political discourse during the Q&A. The American presidential election was fresh on their minds and they were (happily) taken aback by my thoughts on the Empire’s ongoing ruler and CEO – not expecting to hear my critique of his violent actions coupled with his support of predatory capitalism and the corrupt Wall Street swine that enjoy the ongoing free ride.
And then some guy stands up, accuses me of being an intellectual who speaks down to people who don’t share my so-called radical views. He tells me I should reach out and compromise with “that simple guy in Kansas” who loves the ideas espoused by a moron and a tool like Romney. Now, by the way this guy in the crowd frames this fictional Kansas gentleman (let’s call him Toto), I get the sense that Toto’s not very enlightened when it comes to issues of race, war, gender, and sexual orientation. He suggests that it might make the message of my film more appealing – and Mumia more appealing – if I compromised the narrative’s assault on the actions of the American Empire. He suggests that I should meet Toto halfway, that I should understand his point of view, which ultimately may allow him to understand mine. Guy in the Crowd: “Did you ever think of that?” Me: “Uh, no… not for one nanosecond. You’re asking me to compromise with this fictional Joe Blow guy who you suggest is a racist, a warmonger, a misogynist, and probably someone who’s also homophobic. Frankly, we’re in this Neanderthal period of the American experiment because there has been too much compromise, there have been too many olive branches. How do I have a moral conversation with an immoral person? I see no common ground on racism. I see no common ground when trying to justify war. No common ground on economic terrorism. Not for a nanosecond did I consider compromising.”
The audience clapped and the defender of common ground gibberish and hate sat down.
Long Distance Revolutionary is about a man who has maintained the courage not to compromise, not to fall under the spell of concession and middle ground. Some things in life need to be fought for with uncompromising vigor and steadfast commitment. Sometimes you must say “NO.”
I have very mediocre memories of visiting Denver, Colorado.
My only good thoughts regarding Denver are these: Jack Kerouac wrote a few words about it and the 1987 New York Football Giants went to Pasadena and kicked the Broncos ass in the Super Bowl. Phil Simms had the game of his life and Lawrence Taylor was, well Lawrence Taylor was Lawrence Taylor – the greatest linebacker of all time. That’s it. My time in Denver was defined by looking forward to getting out of Denver.
Long Distance Revolutionary was invited to the 35th Annual Starz/Denver Film Festival. I was told early on that it was a strong festival and worth going to. The advice was spot on… the experience was great – from the moment we landed until the moment we took off for New York. The screens and sound at the United Artists Theatres was great. The festival staff was plugged in and embracing the filmmakers as well as the entire film-going experience. We had a great slot: 7pm on a Saturday night. Mumia recorded a special message for the Denver audiences, giving props to three Colorado political icons – “like hardcore historian Ward Churchill, and (Colorado) was long home to Gonzo journalist Hunter S. Thompson… but it’s also the home to a great scholar, Vincent Harding, a friend and co-worker to Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. in the struggle for civil rights and democracy.” Mumia’s message was followed by a video intro to the film from Amy Goodman of DemocracyNow!, who said, “The film you're about to see is a great example of how important it is to showcase stories and ideas that are usually ignored by the mainstream media. Long Distance Revolutionary: A Journey with Mumia Abu-Jamal tells the courageous story of a very important voice in our political discourse today.” Indeed.
The film played, the audience was plugged in. The Q&A went very well and as always, the festival staff had to throw us out to get the next screening ready.
But for me, the highlight of the evening happened as we were walking outside, ready to find a bar, some food, and then another bar. A gentleman walked up to me and had something very important to tell me. I could tell because he was nervous and really wanted to share his thoughts with me about Mumia. Not about the film. Mumia. It turns out Pete worked with Mumia in Philadelphia radio in the late 70s and early 80s. It turns out Pete worked really closely with Mumia in Philadelphia radio in the late 70s and early 80s. And, as it turns out, Pete thought Mumia was the sharpest person he ever worked with in radio. He related a first hand story of Mumia under pressure: a producer breaking into the studio during a commercial break and telling Mumia he had to cut the five-page story written by numerous staff people that was sitting right in front of him ready to air, and instead, air a new one-page condensed version in sixty seconds. GO! Pete said Mumia took the pages and pen, starting ripping, circling, drawing arrows, writing connecting phrases, and hit the air with a perfect one-minute script… and then smoothly passed the baton. Pete says he remembers that moment to this day. He was emphatic: “Hands down, Mumia was the best radio reporter I ever knew.”
My first response to Pete was “Where the hell were you when I was making this film?” What a great story… and what a great moment to recreate in stylized fashion that would really tick off those documentary purists.
Thanks, Pete… and thanks Denver for a great festival. It was an honor to share Mumia’s story with you. And when in Denver, definitely go to a bar/restaurant called Jonesy’s - great food, great wine, and great people.
Like every other creative endeavor on the planet, music is very subjective. So subjective, in fact, that as a filmmaker you have to trust your instincts, your vision (which is blurry a lot as you make a film, especially one you care so goddamn much about). “What do I wanna hear at this point? What makes this cue kick ass?” Some folks are going to say, “Wow, that blew me away.” And others are going to say, “What the hell were you thinking?”
Enter Eddie Vedder.
Now, Eddie can sing the Canoga Park phone book and I’ll listen with a smile on my soul… so when it came to selecting the final song for the film – the song that would take Mumia home – the first place I started listening was Pearl Jam… and I think if 100 filmmakers decided to make “Long Distance Revolutionary” and came to this point, one of us – me – would be looking at Pearl Jam. I knew Rage Against The Machine would rock the house and they have some great pieces; and I knew Immortal Technique, and Tom Morello, and M-1, along with a host of other rappers, maybe even some R&B and Motown folks – I knew that each and every one of them would truly grace the film with their art, with their power, with their passionate voice that also resisted empire and hatred – a mirror of Mumia. So I get that. It’s obvious. But it’s not what was right for the film at that moment.
Because at that moment we realize that the story of this long distance revolutionary is about love. Plain and simple, it’s about love. The editor of City Lights Books, Greg Ruggiero, sums it up this way in the film: “I think Mumia would agree with what Che said: "At the risk of sounding ridiculous, a revolutionary is guided by feelings of love and for love of the people.” Once again…
Enter Eddie Vedder.
Because for a film that rages hard like this film rages, in the end it lands soft. It lands with love… and that happens naturally because Mumia’s rage against the machine doesn’t stem from anger. Not even close. It stems from love. Like Greg says, “love of the people.” And so “Society,” written by Jerry Hannan and recorded by Eddie Vedder, is a soulful song, it’s a beautiful song. And I wanted the film to end with a song that sounded like Mumia… what would his soul sound like if we heard it as music? For me, it was about capturing a man at peace with himself in one of the worst places on Earth. At peace because he’s right, because his fight has always been right…
Society, have mercy on me I hope you're not angry if I disagree Society, crazy and deep I hope you're not lonely without me
Lakota Harden was one of my favorite interviews during the entire process of making LONG DISTANCE REVOLUTIONARY – and she doesn’t appear in the film. Sometimes this happens… great moments end up in digital purgatory (used to be the editing room floor).
Lakota Harden is an orator, activist, community organizer, radio host, and poet. She has dedicated her life, as a daughter of seven generations of Lakota leaders, to liberation and justice. Lakota first became an accomplished speaker as a youth and representative of the early American Indian Movement's “We Will Remember” Survival School on the Pine Ridge reservation, which was established out of the 1973 Wounded Knee occupation. She has continued her activism over the years, working with the International Indian Treaty Council, Women of All Red Nations, and the Black Hills Alliance.
Lakota has been inspired by the life and revolutionary writings of Mumia Abu-Jamal. She remembers the first time she heard his voice and his words on her car radio and having to pull off to the side of the road. She cried… and this didn’t end up in the film. One of the great screenwriters of all time, William Goldman, has written about the unfortunate phenomenon of a great moment not making it into the final cut of the film. This is one of those instances. But the home video version of this film will include Lakota – as much as I can get in because she’s great, and powerful, and important to people who care about justice everywhere. Here’s a great example of Lakota… and it’s a rough cut… and it’s a rough cut edit… and as I watch this piece, I’m asking myself: How did this not end up in the film???
Okay, I’ve worked with many outstanding narration actors and actresses, but after working with Peter Coyote I reached this conclusion: there’s Peter and then there’s everyone else. Kind of like Eddie Vedder’s voice – there’s Eddie and there’s everyone else.
For LONG DISTANCE REVOLUTIONARY, I had this idea that the storytelling narration of the film should be done onscreen and by an ensemble cast of really good performers. It’s not really a practice we see in many documentaries. Critics and naysayers may knock the technique as being overly dramatic or manipulative because they want their docs to be “objective.” Well, here’s the rub when it comes to so-called objectivity in any creative endeavor and journalistic undertaking: it doesn’t exist. It’s a myth. Hunter Thompson told me one time that objectivity exists in two instances: obituaries and baseball box scores… and then he said, “Bullshit. It doesn’t exist anywhere. Fuck me. And fuck you for not questioning me.” Gonzo at his best.
I gravitated to the dramatic onscreen narration because I wanted to bring Mumia’s brilliant and searing words to life. And since I couldn’t film or record Mumia in-person, I had to rely on great people… like Rodney Charles, Christina Moses, Eartha Robinson, Rachel Hastings, Elijah Hall, Howard McNair, and Sheila Grenham who brought Mumia’s words to life – lifted them right off the page and drove it home, delivered the mail, made it real.
But back to Coyote. We filmed Peter in the KPFA radio studios in Berkeley and the passages I reserved for Peter was the narration I wrote to carry the story forward – some of it straightforward, some of it with piss and vinegar. Well, Peter does these things in one take and does them with perfection. You say “action” and Peter makes your words sound great and sound right. He makes you a better writer when he interprets your words, your phrasing, and then nails it. Here’s an example…
In the winter of 1992, I was looking for a voice from America’s death row. My search took me to lock down units on the largest death rows in the country: California, Texas, Virginia, and Pennsylvania. I was seeking a perspective that would illuminate the harrowing places where men and women wait to be ritually killed at the hands of the government. This voice would bring into focus and breathe life into numbing words and dry statistics – capital punishment, gas chamber, solitary confinement, corrections, and mass incarceration.
Here I was, a young reporter, trying in the best tradition of investigative journalism to cover the story. I was asking a simple question: what does this all mean? Prisons in the United States are an epic story. Mass incarceration and the jailing of one in forty-six people during their lifetime (one in three for Black men) is culturally defining. As a broadcast journalist I needed a voice on the ground, someone who had lived this experience. I needed someone to share with the audience what it means for a country to never quite let go of its slavery.*
Clearly, racism was driving U.S. carceral policies; by the early 90s slavery was back.
Could a country incarcerate the most people per capita on the planet, employ the death penalty with ferocity, and incarcerate a generation of young black men, without experiencing devastating economic and spiritual consequences? Prisons verses preschools is not a slogan: it is a choice.
By bringing Mumia Abu-Jamal’s voice and perspective to the airwaves, Prison Radio was amplifying a critical perspective. It has been an amazing journey, one you can participate in by watching “Long Distance Revolutionary.”
For more than a decade, Mumia’s voice had been silenced. He was a journalist trapped in solitary confinement on death row – his melodic silky baritone, extinguished. Mumia Abu-Jamal began his career in journalism in 1969 as a writer for the Black Panther newspaper. Throughout the 1980s, he was a prominent broadcast journalist in Philadelphia. Like many Black men of his generation, he entered prison, arriving at Graterford in 1981.
In July 1992, I handed Mumia Abu-Jamal a microphone and his broadcast career resumed. These were his first radio broadcasts since he was shot and arrested. For a few hours on that hot summer day in rural Pennsylvania, Mumia was back in a funky old recording studio… even the thick Plexiglas separating talent from engineer was the same. The only difference was the heavily armed guards and his tightly shackled wrists.
For the last two decades we have produced weekly broadcasts. I have found Mumia’s perspectives searing and profoundly illuminating. He tackles the vast implications of incarceration head on. And his delivery is unique and compelling. I often relate that he has the vocal talent of James Earl Jones, though trapped in a concrete box. He is a world class broadcast journalist. But beyond the talent, and brilliant writing, he also infuses each essay with a profound humanity and respect for his subjects.
Such a compelling belief in the poor runs counter to the government’s right wing narrative. It is also a perspective that would not go unnoticed and unpunished. Battling and breaking through the censorship of Mumia’s voice has been a tremendous fight. As Mumia states, “The state would rather give me an Uzi than a microphone.” And as Mumia would say: keep listening, keep rumbling, and take this journey with us. You can start by going to see the film or bringing it to your town.
Noelle Hanrahan, founder of Prison Radio, is a producer on the Street Legal Cinema production “Long Distance Revolutinoary: A Journey With Mumia Abu-Jamal.”
*Thirteenth Amendment to the U.S. Constitution. Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United States, or any place subject to their jurisdiction. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Incarceration_in_the_United_States
On the eve of the Mill Valley Film Festival, I stopped by the studios of Prison Radio and recorded this short conversation with Mumia. We spoke about a number of things including the upcoming election. Here's the video record of that conversation. Noelle Hanrahan - one of the producers on the film and the force behind getting Mumia's voice out of prison and to the world over the past two decades - is behind me recording the session (and always recording with great care and expertise). And I'm wearing my Roberto Clemente jersey because Clemente, even forty years after his tragic death, remains an inspiration.
When I think about why I made this film, this passage from Mumia’s writings invariably comes to mind. I think it captures his deep compassion and love for those living under the oppressive weight of tyranny. In fact, the beauty that emanates from this man who has also lived his life under the oppressive weight of tyranny is incredible. Dig it…
"Here and there in the barrios and the favelas, among those who have least, beat hearts of hope, fly sparks of overcoming."
His gift as a journalist, as a writer, and now as a historian is his innate ability to focus our attention on the core essence of a subject or a person. Here’s a great example: check out this clip from “LONG DISTANCE REVOLUTIONARY” as Mumia evokes the spirit of Nat Turner, who was executed by the State on November 11, 1831. Turner’s body was then flayed, beheaded, and quartered. God Bless America.
After graduating from Harvard College and studying theater with Whoopi Goldberg, Aya de Leon dedicated her immense talent to healing communities in need. As a writer, hip-hop artist, and poetic activist, Aya has received numerous awards and her work has received significant acclaim in many publications including the Village Voice, Washington Post, Oakland Tribune, and San Francisco Chronicle. I remember Aya’s memorable performance in Howard Zinn’s “Voices of a People’s History” with Mos Def, Alice Walker, and many others.
Well, we’re fortunate because Aya graces and dignifies LONG DISTANCE REVOLUTIONARY with her insight, passion, as well as another remarkable performance, this one from her own spoken word poem entitled “In the Flesh.” She’s accompanied on vocals by Ahsabi Monique Burris in this haunting moment. Take a listen…
Also, Aya will be attending the second screening of LDR at the Mill Valley Film Festival on Monday, October 8 at 4:45pm. There will also be a Q&A after the film with myself and Noelle Hanrahan. (Sequoia Theatre, 25 Throckmorton Avenue, Mill Valley, CA 94941). If he can, Mumia will be calling in live..
Historian and political author Michael Parenti is that perfect mix of scholar and street-tough, street-smart critic. He has a firm grasp on the breadth of history while maintaining a laser-like sense of where the corrupt, anti-human political deals are really being made: in the gutters, trenches, and bowels of a shady and crooked ruling class.
I first met Michael for my now on-hiatus documentary “Murder Incorporated: Empire, Genocide, and Manifest Destiny” (which is now the basis of a new book underway penned by Mumia and myself). I interviewed him for two hours in the living room of his home in Berkeley, California… and that day his searing indictment of the American Empire and its machinations around the world was par excellence. So when it came to making LONG DISTANCE REVOLUTIONARY, I traipsed back to Berkeley, paid homage to Mario Savio and his “Bodies Upon the Gears” speech back in ‘64, and then set up camp at Parenti’s – this time he invited us to film in the backyard. The yard immediately brought back memories of growing up in Newark, New Jersey and picking tomatoes and basil in my grandfather’s backyard. Parenti, a rogue Italian-American like myself, also grew up in the New York area and we share similar roots. Clearly, he’s at home in this verdant oasis: a little slice of peace in the midst of Berkeley proper. This clip didn’t make it into the film, but like a lot of clips that didn’t make it into the film, it’s a great piece. Michael offers some great tongue-in-cheek fun with regard to torture and human rights abuse. See, even torture can be fun and games if you just lighten up… just ask your government and sweethearts like Charles Graner and Lynndie England. C’mon, take that taxi to the darkside.
San Francisco (and the entire Bay Area) holds a very special place in the life of “Long Distance Revolutionary.” And not just because we interviewed a number of extraordinary people in the Bay Area, that’s the practical reality, but really because the spirit of San Francisco runs through the film like a main circuit cable.
The spirit for me begins with the beat poets: Kerouac, Ginsberg, Burroughs, and Ferlinghetti – who was scheduled to be in the film but unfortunately fell and was physically unable to be interviewed. That’s a shame because Lawrence’s courage and commitment to free speech also runs through Mumia’s veins. In another place and another time, Mumia Abu-Jamal could have been sitting in upstairs at City Lights Books in North Beach “howling” with Ginsberg or eating a “naked lunch” with William S. The beats evolved into the counterculture movement of the mid-sixties that was thriving in San Francisco and it was ground zero for a revolutionary movement that was taking on a world of corruption – social and political… and it was this rumble that a young Wesley Cook aka Mumia would hear in a racist hot bed of corruption known as “the City of Brotherly Love.” The late, great Hunter S. Thompson captured the spirit of San Francisco in the mid-sixties with grace in Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas – a truly remarkable passage:
“There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning… And that, I think, was the handle—that sense of inevitable victory over the forces of Old and Evil. Not in any mean or military sense; we didn’t need that. Our energy would simply prevail. There was no point in fighting—on our side or theirs. We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave… So now, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas and look West, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark—that place where the wave finally broke and rolled back.” In the film, Rubin Hurricane Carter says that Mumia “is one of the lost souls of the revolution” – and I think that encapsulates Mumia best: like Hunter wrote above, Mumia has the right kind of eyes to see the spirit, see the love, see the change. After all, there cannot be change without the vision of change first… and Mumia has never stopped believing in and fighting for change. Indeed, as Carter declares – “a lost soul of the revolution.” While almost every soul of that historic revolution has sold out, compromised, thrown in the towel, or became a ratfink, Mumia (under harsh and inhuman conditions) has continued the battle for freedom, justice, and the un-American way.
And so have some of San Francisco’s (and Oakland’s, and Berkeley’s) favorite sons and daughters… and we were fortunate to capture their brilliance in “Long Distance Revolutionary.” At the Ella Baker Center, we interviewed Angela Davis. Also in Oakland, we interviewed science fiction master and Mumia biographer Terry Bisson. In Berkeley we sat down with Michael Parenti at his home and with poet Aya de Leon on Berkeley’s campus. In San Francisco we spent a great morning in Emory Douglas’s painting studio and then some time with publisher and writer Ted Nace as well as the Native American activist Lakota Harden. And finally, we traveled just north of Baghdad by the Bay and we filmed a remarkable interview with the inimitable Alice Walker.
Clearly, the spirit and the people of San Francisco mean a great deal to the essence and spark of this film, so it’s fitting that our world premiere takes place in the Bay Area at the 35th Annual Mill Valley Film Festival on October 6 at 12:00 noon at the Rafael Film Center (California Film Institute) in San Rafael. With the right kind of eyes (and some tickets), you can see the “inevitable victory over the forces of Old and Evil.”
Written by Stephen Vittoria (Los Angeles) Angela Davis frames the ongoing systemic injustices of current-day America this way: “The challenge of the twenty-first century is not to demand equal opportunity to participate in the machinery of oppression. Rather, it is to identify and dismantle those structures in which racism continues to be embedded. This is the only way the promise of freedom can be extended to the masses of people.”
Recognizing and deconstructing the inhuman edifices of institutional racism has been the historic target of Angela Davis’s revolutionary drive for more than forty years. A kindred spirit with Mumia since their days of fighting the good fight with the Black Panther Party, Angela’s writings and sharp analysis aimed at building resistance to the corrupt machine are as relevant and inspired today as when she was writing insurrectionary essays from the Marin County Jail in 1971. Her vision and spirit continues to inspire people the world over, people who care deeply about achieving economic justice, personal freedom, and lasting peace in this violent and ruthless system.
Angela graced our film LONG DISTANCE REVOLUTIONARY with her powerful thoughts about the night side of American history and, of course, Mumia’s role in documenting the victories and defeats of freedom and justice in that history. Angela also documents with precision Mumia’s place in the pantheon of Black writers and historians who have courageously spoken truth to power throughout the American experiment. Here’s a clip that’s not in the film… Angela talks about the Panthers, Frank Rizzo, and the racist repression associated with the so-called City of Brotherly Love.
Up to this point, every visit with Mumia has been extraordinarily memorable even though he was encaged in a sterile concrete box and presented behind a giant sheet of Plexiglas that stands between inmate and visitor… as Mumia has written: “the state-made blockade raised under the rubric of security.” But this time in the waning days of summer, 2012, my visit with Mumia was sans the blockade. No shackles. No Plexiglas. No muffled sound. Contact. Flesh against flesh.
I left Manhattan and cut my way across the Garden State in a rented car with my beloved New York football Giants on the radio. I was chasing the sun into Pennsylvania, planning to spend the night in Frackville – an old railroad town dating back to the area’s coal mining days… a sleepy settlement about fifty miles northeast of Harrisburg.
I was looking forward to visiting Mumia. I wanted to bring him up-to-date on “Long Distance Revolutionary” (although we correspond via mail all the time and less frequently by phone) but more importantly, we had to discuss the book we’re writing together entitled “Murder Incorporated: Empire, Genocide, and Manifest Destiny.” It’s a project we’re both stoked about.
Once in the prison, getting to the visiting area was identical here at State Correctional Institution Mahanoy as it was at SCI Greene, one of the super max crown jewels in America’s prison gulag and Mumia’s last “home” before being transferred here to Frackville in the middle of the night in shackles and leg irons, and of course at gunpoint, in fact numerous guns along with psychological threats. Remember, Charles Graner of Abu Ghraib fame cut his teeth at SCI Greene.
The visiting room is like a large hospital waiting room with tables and chairs, lounging chairs, and a children’s playroom for fathers to spend time with their kids. The guard that ran the admission of visitors announced out loud that I won the award for traveling the farthest today, seeming to spit out the words “Los Angeles” and “Abu-Jamal” with a subtext that was obvious. He asked me if I wanted my prize now or later. I said later. He never mentioned what the prize was but I could guess what he wanted to give me.
As I walked into the large hall with all the mothers, fathers, wives, children, and friends of the thirty or so waiting inmates (all dressed in burgundy jump suits), I spotted Mumia walking toward me, gently touching his fist to his heart, his wide and warm smile piercing across the room. We shook hands… and that quickly turned into a long hug. Contact.
The last time I visited Mumia, his dreadlocks were incredibly long and incredibly cool. They just about touched the floor. He cut them to shoulder length as part of a deal with the Department of Corrections, who were holding him in solitary confinement here at SCI Mahanoy for no apparent reason, even though his death sentence was set aside months before. Mumia was scheduled to join the prison’s general population. So, after thirty years in solitary on Death Row, he decided to cut his dreads for a little taste of freedom. And why not… I would have cut them after thirty seconds in solitary.
Mumia and I sat down and talked about everything we could pack into almost six hours: the film, the book (which we were blazing on), the old Negro League baseball days, life for him in general population, handball (which he loves), working out, the pieces we each wrote about Gore Vidal, the Newark riots in 1967, Angela Davis, the jingoistic and robotic passion play that goes on at major league baseball games as well as Dave Zirin’s great take on this patriotic folly, Obama’s predator drone murder spree, the laughable and sad state of American constitutional law especially with regard to the dangerous National Defense Authorization Act, the clown which is Clarence Thomas, how a Kindle and an iPad work – especially when downloading books, using Amazon, using a computer to do research… then we ate lunch – sandwiches from the vending machines and dessert from vending machines… Tastycake cupcakes – that good old Philadelphia tradition… and that brought up a long list of Philly bullshit including Bozo the Clown, also known as Buzz Bissinger as well as his patron Ed Rendell, which then led to a discussion regarding the raping of the Barnes Foundation’s art collection in Philly, the book “Priceless” about an FBI agent’s historic fight to solve major art crime the world over… and this just scratches the surface of our ongoing conversation. Then the PA System blares: “Pritchart, Wannamaker, Abu-Jamal – fifteen minutes.”
We have a rule, Mumia and I – we never let the fifteen minutes run out so our exit, our departure is on our terms, our decision to end it, not the prison’s… it’s a small victory, maybe really small, but it’s a victory nonetheless. “Love you, man.” “Love you, too, be good.” Our second hug is over. Mumia heads back to hell and I head back to freedom, a rented car, and Interstate 78 stretching east toward Jersey.
Mike Francesa on the FAN ushers me all the way back to Manhattan (love Francesa). During commercials on my iPhone I record my recollections for the book since I can’t take in a pad and a pen to write. I think I got all the major points or close enough.
Next thing I know I’m sitting in the East Village drinking wine, eating a great Italian meal, laughing with friends, enjoying a perfect New York City night… and my mind drifts back to Frackville and Mumia’s simple joy of eating something different than prison food – a sandwich from a vending machine and how much that meant to him… and on the heels of that thought more thoughts: his isolation, his hell, his horrific thirty-year plus existence, and suddenly the wine doesn’t sip as well, the food doesn’t taste as good, and my bourgeois life is on shaky ground… and I find myself hating my freedom because when one of us is wrongly imprisoned, we’re all wrongly imprisoned. When one of us suffers at the hand of state repression, we all suffer. Ultimately, it’s a failure of our collective will.
Written by Stephen Vittoria (Los Angeles) 35th Annual Mill Valley Film Festival When we started this journey with Mumia Abu-Jamal's tragic but courageous story, we envisioned a day when we could share this story of corrupt state repression with audiences that care and audiences that feel - because from the heart of darkness, which is the nightside of American history (read: tyranny), Mumia Abu-Jamal has transcended the prison walls that bind his flesh with the strength and power and beauty of his words. That's what this movie is about. Redemption. And where does his redemption come from? It comes from the same place that motivates all revolutionaries fighting and raging against the machine - it comes from love, love of the people. "Long Distance Revolutionary: A Journey with Mumia Abu-Jamal" is the definitive documentary on the life and revolutionary times of MUMIA.
Please join us at the world premiere: Saturday, October 6 @ 12:00 noon Rafael Film Center (California Film Institute) 1118 4th Street, San Rafael, CA 94901 And/or experience the film on Monday, October 8 @ 4:45pm Cinemark At Sequoia 25 Throckmorton Avenue, Mill Valley, CA 94941 PURCHASE TICKETS
Written by Stephen Vittoria (Los Angeles) Street Legal Cinema is proud to announce that the historic and fiercely independent New York distribution company, First Run Features, has acquired all U.S. domestic distribution rights to my new film “LONG DISTANCE REVOLUTIONARY: A Journey with Mumia Abu-Jamal” and will release the documentary in theatres in early 2013.
First Run was founded in 1979 and the company’s legacy includes films by great filmmakers like Spike Lee, Michael Apted, Rose Troche, Jane Campion, Barbara Kopple, Peter Jackson, Sven Nykvist, and David O. Russell. No doubt, First Run is a survivor in a difficult marketplace. In fact, they’ve even survived FBI probes for distributing content that the US Government considered a threat. Instead, the US Government should probe itself as an ongoing threat to the planet – start with the White House and the corrupt swine on Wall Street. Joe McCarthy still runs through the veins of these-- Anyway, I digress…
In August of 2009, for their 30th Anniversary, First Run was honored with a major retrospective at the Museum of Modern Art in NYC, which the Film Society of Lincoln Center wrote: “First Run Features has been at the forefront of companies that take the risk of distributing previously unreleased films. It takes remarkable courage to distribute cutting-edge and sometimes controversial works that they believe should and must be seen.”
First Run distributed my last feature “One Bright Shining Moment: The Forgotten Summer of George McGovern.”
Stay tuned for updates on LONG DISTANCE REVOLUTIONARY. First Run plans a great release across the country, followed of course by video on demand, home video, broadcast, and so forth – getting Mumia’s story of courage and beauty to as many hearts and minds as possible. Or as the old Hollywood adage goes: “Let’s put as many asses in the seats as possible.” Check out this teaser.