{"product_id":"trouble-in-mind-isbn-9780375702631","title":"Trouble in Mind","description":"\u003cb\u003eA searing history of life under Jim Crow that recalls the bloodiest and most repressive period in the history of race relations in the United States—and the painful record of discrimination that haunts us to this day. From the Pulitzer Prize-winning author of \u003ci\u003eBeen in the Storm So Long.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e\"The stain of Jim Crow runs deep in 20th-century America.... Its effects remain the nation's most pressing business. \u003ci\u003eTrouble in Mind\u003c\/i\u003e is an absolutely essential account of its dreadful history and calamitous legacy.\"  —\u003ci\u003eThe Washington Post\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIn April 1899, Black laborer Sam Hose killed his white boss in self-defense. Wrongly accused of raping the man's wife, Hose was mutilated, stabbed, and burned alive in front of 2,000 cheering whites. His body was sold piecemeal to souvenir seekers; an Atlanta grocery displayed his knuckles in its front window for a week.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDrawing on new documentation and first-person accounts, Litwack describes the injustices\u003cb\u003e—\u003c\/b\u003eboth institutional and personal\u003cb\u003e—\u003c\/b\u003einflicted against a people. Here, too, are the Black men and women whose activism, literature, and music preserved the genius of the human spirit.\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e1. Baptisms\u003cbr\u003e2. Lessons\u003cbr\u003e3. Working\u003cbr\u003e4. White Folks: Scriptures\u003cbr\u003e5. White Folks: Acts\u003cbr\u003e6. Hellhounds\u003cbr\u003e7. Enduring\u003cbr\u003e8. Crossroads\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eEpilogue\u003c\/i\u003e\"The most complete and moving account we have had of what the victims of the Jim Crow South suffered and somehow endured.\" —C. Vann Woodward\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Moving, elegant, earthy and pointed. . . . It forces us to reckon with the tragic legacies of freedom as well as of slavery. And it reminds us of the resilience and creativity of the human spirit.\" —Steven Hahn, The San Diego Union-Tribune\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"A chilling reminder of how simple it has been for Americans to delude themselves about the power of race.\" —The Raleigh News \u0026amp; ObserverLeon F. Litwack is the author of \u003ci\u003eBeen in the Storm So Long,\u003c\/i\u003e which won the Pulitzer Prize in History and the Parkman Prize. He is the recipient of a Guggenheim Fellowship, two Distinguished Teaching Awards, and a National Endowment for the Humanities Film Grant, and is the Alexander F. and May T. Morrison Professor of American History at the University of California, Berkeley.BAPTISMS\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMy grandmother and other people that I knowed grew up in slavery time, they wasn't satisfied\u003cbr\u003ewith their freedom. They felt like motherless children--they wasn't satisfied but thy had to live\u003cbr\u003eunder the impression that they were. Had to act in a way just as though everything was all\u003cbr\u003eright... Had to do whatever the white man directed em to do, couldn't voice their heart's desire.\u003cbr\u003eThat was the way of life that I was born and raised into. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e--Ned Cobb \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhat did I do \u003cbr\u003eTo be so black \u003cbr\u003eand blue? \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e--From a song popularized by Louis Armstrong\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTHE PINE-BOARD SHACK in which Charlie Holcombe spent his childhood in the late\u003cbr\u003enineteenth century rested on top of a red clay hill about a quarter of a mile from \u003cbr\u003ethe main road in Sampson County, North Carolina. His father, a tenant tobacco farmer, \u003cbr\u003erose each morning at four o'clock, laid the logs for a fire, and roused the\u003cbr\u003echildren, while Charlie's mother prepared a breakfast consisting of a pot of grits \u003cbr\u003eand a slab of salt pork. It was important to be in the field at sunup during the \u003cbr\u003egrowing season, as the soil was poor and the labor that much more demanding. \u003cbr\u003eThey worked till sundown. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eGrandfather Holcombe did not work in the field; he had \"de miseries\" in his back \u003cbr\u003eand walked with a stick. But he performed other chores, slopping the hogs and \u003cbr\u003efeeding the chickens. Charlie Holcombe, considered too young and frail to work \u003cbr\u003ein the fields, helped his grandfather with the chores and often accompanied him \u003cbr\u003eto the nearby creek to catch \"a mess o' catfish\" for supper. As they sat there, \u003cbr\u003ewaiting for the fish to bite, Grandfather would \"do a heap o' thinkin'.\" And \u003cbr\u003esometimes he shared his thoughts with Charlie, his youngest grandson, often\u003cbr\u003eimparting practical lessons drawn from his own life on how a black boy \u003cbr\u003emight hope to survive in the South less than half a century after emancipation. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCharlie remembered one lesson in particular. After catching a large catfish, \u003cbr\u003eGrandfather Holcombe toyed with it for a time, admonishing his grandson to \u003cbr\u003ewatch him. He carefully lifted the fish out of the creek, let it thrash\u003cbr\u003eabout, then lowered the line and returned the fish to the water. It would \u003cbr\u003eswim again, but not for long. Grandfather suddenly pulled it out on the bank, \u003cbr\u003ewhere it thrashed about until it died. \"Son,\" his grandfather observed, \"a\u003cbr\u003ecatfish is a lot like a nigger. As long as he is in his mudhole he is all right, \u003cbr\u003ebut when he gits out he is in for a passel of trouble. You 'member dat, and \u003cbr\u003eyou won't have no trouble wid folks when you grows up.\" \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNeither Charlie's father nor his grandfather had owned the land they worked. \u003cbr\u003eBut as a young man Charlie Holcombe aspired to improve himself and be \u003cbr\u003eindependent of whites, and he possessed an abundance of confidence about \u003cbr\u003ehis ability to succeed. He vowed to break with a bleak past of arduous and mostly \u003cbr\u003eunrewarded labor. \"I thought I could manage my business better and dat I \u003cbr\u003ewas gonna be able to own a place o' my own someday... I was a high-minded \u003cbr\u003eyoung nigger and was full of git-up-and-git. Dey wan't nothin' in de world dat I\u003cbr\u003edidn't think I could do, and I didn't have no patience wid niggers what didn't \u003cbr\u003elook for nothin' but sundown and payday.\" After his parents died, Charlie \u003cbr\u003emoved to Johnston County, North Carolina, took a job on public works,\u003cbr\u003esaved some money, and married. In 1909 he settled down on a farm, \u003cbr\u003edetermined to make it his own. But like so many aspiring young blacks--\u003cbr\u003ethe children and the grandchildren of slaves--he confronted formidable \u003cbr\u003eobstacles in his struggle to be independent. \"Dey was always sumpthin' \u003cbr\u003ecome along and knocked de props from under my plans.\" That \"sumpthin'\" might \u003cbr\u003ebe the worms, rust, or blight consuming the tobacco plants or, more often than\u003cbr\u003enot, poor and declining prices and the rigid controls exerted by white men \u003cbr\u003eover black income. The only certainty was that by the time the landlord \u003cbr\u003ehad taken his share and deducted the cost of the fertilizer and the money or\u003cbr\u003ecredit advances he had made, \"dey wan't but jist enough to carry on till de \u003cbr\u003enex' crop.\" \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut Charlie persisted, and one year he seemed primed to break out of this cycle of \u003cbr\u003eindebtedness. After selling his tobacco and settling with the landlord, he had \u003cbr\u003esomething for himself--or so he thought. That was when \"the man\" called him \u003cbr\u003eback and told him he had underestimated the amount Charlie owed him for \u003cbr\u003ewarehouse charges. The tactic was all too familiar, and Charlie's inability \u003cbr\u003eto read the books made any legal protest impossible. \"I knowed it wan't right, \u003cbr\u003eand it made me so mad I jist hit him in de face as hard as I could. Den I kinda went \u003cbr\u003ecrazy and might nigh beat him to death.\" The judge sentenced Charlie to a year's \u003cbr\u003elabor on the roads--a lenient sentence for an interracial altercation. His wife \u003cbr\u003eand children did what they could to make a crop, but it was not enough to\u003cbr\u003emeet expenses. The landlord agreed to carry them over, and it took Charlie \u003cbr\u003ethree years to pay him back. \"By that time I knowed it wan't no use for me \u003cbr\u003eto try to ever make anything but jist a livin'.\" \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAlthough Charlie Holcombe made his accommodation, he wanted something \u003cbr\u003ebetter for his oldest son, Willie. \"I was 'termined my oldest chile was gonna \u003cbr\u003ehab a chance in dis world, and I sent him all de way through high school.\" \u003cbr\u003eThat was more education than any Holcombe had known. But after completing \u003cbr\u003ehigh school, Willie wanted to go to college, arguing that it would enable him to \u003cbr\u003eimprove his economic prospects significantly. At considerable sacrifice, the \u003cbr\u003eHolcombes sent their son to the Agricultural and Technical College of North \u003cbr\u003eCarolina in Greensboro. Willie worked hard, made good grades, and in the \u003cbr\u003esummer returned to help his parents with the crop. He would take the \u003cbr\u003etobacco to market, carefully scrutinize the accounts, and invariably \u003cbr\u003ereturn with money in his pocket. As Willie progressed in college, however, \u003cbr\u003ehis horizon widened and he became more ambitious. Increasingly dissatisfied \u003cbr\u003ewith the tobacco business, he told his father this was no future for a black \u003cbr\u003eman with an education. He did not want to return to the farm. \"Dat hurt me,\" \u003cbr\u003eCharlie Holcombe confessed, \"'cause I had counted on Willie helpin' me, but \u003cbr\u003eI wanted him to do what he thought was best.\" Willie Holcombe graduated\u003cbr\u003enear the top of his class. That, remembered Charlie, \"was when de trouble started.\" \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDespite his education, Willie found few opportunities open to him. He returned home \u003cbr\u003efrom college, disillusioned with his life and bitter over his limited prospects. \u003cbr\u003eWhen he \"started settin' around and drinkin' and gittin' mean,\" Charlie tried \u003cbr\u003eto reason with him, but little he could say would alleviate the disappointment \u003cbr\u003eand frustration. That fall Willie took a load of tobacco to the warehouse and \u003cbr\u003ereturned home angry and sullen; the next day he insisted on taking another \u003cbr\u003eload to the warehouse. Near dinnertime he had not yet returned. A neighbor \u003cbr\u003efinally appeared to inform Charlie that there had been a fight at the warehouse \u003cbr\u003einvolving Willie. When Charlie reached the scene, he spotted his son lying on \u003cbr\u003ethe ground, a puddle of blood around his head, and a group of white men standing\u003cbr\u003enearby. \"I knowed he was dead de minute I seed him.\" For a while Charlie just stood \u003cbr\u003ethere, not knowing what to do. He looked at the crowd and could not find a friendly \u003cbr\u003eor sympathetic face. \"Right den I knowed dey wan't no use to ax for no he'p and \u003cbr\u003edat I was jist a pore nigger in trouble.\" Holding Willie in his arms, Charlie could see\u003cbr\u003ethat his son's head had been bashed in. \"Dey was tears runnin' down my cheeks and \u003cbr\u003edroppin' on his face and I couldn't he'p it.\" He placed his son in the wagon, tied \u003cbr\u003ethe mule behind it, and began his journey down the road. Reaching home, he washed \u003cbr\u003eWillie's head and dressed him in his best suit. Charlie and Dillie Holcombe then\u003cbr\u003eburied their son at the foot of the big pine tree near the well and planted some \u003cbr\u003egrass on the grave. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCharlie Holcombe was never the same again. The spirit he had once shown in his \u003cbr\u003edetermination to succeed no longer animated him. \"For a long time atter dat I \u003cbr\u003ecouldn't seem to git goin', and dey was a big chunk in de bottom o' my stummick dat \u003cbr\u003ejist wouldn't go away. I would go out at night and set under de pine by Willie's\u003cbr\u003egrave, and listen to de win' swishin' in de needles, and I'd do a lot o' thinkin'.\" \u003cbr\u003eHe knew his son had been killed because of an argument, no doubt over the \u003cbr\u003e\"settlin' price\" for the tobacco Willie had delivered. But Charlie\u003cbr\u003eblamed himself for his son's death. He had failed to heed his grandfather's\u003cbr\u003e admonition. \"I got to thinkin' 'bout what gran'pappy said 'bout de catfish, and\u003cbr\u003e I knowed dat was de trouble wid Willie. He had stepped outen his\u003cbr\u003eplace when he got dat eddycation. If I'd kept him here on de farm he woulda \u003cbr\u003ebeen all right. Niggers has got to l'arn dat dey ain't like white folks, and never \u003cbr\u003ewill be, and no amount o' eddycation can make 'em be, and dat when\u003cbr\u003edey gits outen dere place dere is gonna be trouble.\" When in subsequent \u003cbr\u003eyears Charlie would encounter some \"young bucks\" dissatisfied with their \u003cbr\u003elives and wanting to \"cut loose and change,\" he would listen to them, then\u003cbr\u003etake them out to see Willie's grave. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNo other Holcombe child would be sent to college. They all settled down with their \u003cbr\u003efamilies and accommodated to the New South in the same way their father--and grandfather\u003cbr\u003e--had accommodated. They went about the business of surviving. \"Dey don't hab much, \u003cbr\u003ebut dey is happy,\" Charlie Holcombe said of his remaining children, the advice of \u003cbr\u003ehis grandfather still vivid in his mind. \"Niggers is built for service, like a mule, \u003cbr\u003eand dey needn't 'spect nothin' else.... A nigger's place is in de field and de road \u003cbr\u003eand de tunnel and de woods, wid a pick or shovel or ax or hoe or plow. God \u003cbr\u003emade a nigger like a mule to be close to nature and git his livin' by de sweat o'\u003cbr\u003ehis brow like de Good Book says.\" Resigned to his \"place,\" Charlie no longer \u003cbr\u003eworried that much about the price his tobacco might bring him. The children\u003cbr\u003e came by occasionally to help him with the crops. He now had ample\u003cbr\u003etime to engage in his own \"heap o' thinkin',\" and his final years were \u003cbr\u003eincreasingly reflective. Sitting by the fireplace, his mind often wandered \u003cbr\u003eback to his childhood. \"And I 'member how my gran'pappy used to ... take\u003cbr\u003eme fishin' wid him. Seems like when a feller thinks back he only 'members de good parts.\"Author of the Pulitzer Prize-winning Been in the Storm So Long","brand":"Vintage","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46302039965925,"sku":"NP9780375702631","price":24.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780375702631.jpg?v=1767742976","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/trouble-in-mind-isbn-9780375702631","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}