James Baldwin

= Subscribers only. Sign in here. Subscribe here.

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

James Baldwin was born on August 2, 1924, in Harlem. “[I]n those days,” he wrote in 1961, “that part of town was called The Hollow and now it’s called Junkie’s Hollow.” His mother, Emma Berdis Jones, had eight more children in the decade after his birth, and James became their de facto caretaker. “As they were born, I took them over with one hand and held a book with the other.” His stepfather, David Baldwin, the son of a slave, was a preacher from New Orleans who beat James, his mother, and his brothers, and had him circumcised at the age of five.

Baldwin joined Countee Cullen’s French class at Frederick Douglass Junior High School in 1936, at age twelve, and was later, with Richard Avedon, Cullen’s student in high school. Baldwin interviewed Cullen, an esteemed poet and frequent Harper’s Magazine contributor, for the high school literary journal, The Magpie, of which he was literary editor. “Have you found that there is much prejudice against the Negro in the literary world?” Baldwin asked. “No,” Cullen replied, “in this field one gets pretty much what he deserves.”

For a short while, Baldwin was a child preacher; as a young man, he laid railroad track in New Jersey and toiled in a New York meatpacking plant. He was harassed for his homosexuality but came to accept it, and once roomed with Marlon Brando. His stepfather, David, was committed to a mental institution in 1943 and soon died of tuberculosis. “[A] few hours later, his last child was born,” James wrote in “Me and My House . . . ,” which was published in the November 1955 issue of Harper’s. David was buried on James’s nineteenth birthday, the same day a riot erupted in Harlem. “As we drove him to the graveyard,” James wrote, “the spoils of injustice, anarchy, discontent, and hatred were all around us.”

In 1948, after writing an “unsalable” novel and a number of book reviews — “mostly, as it turned out, about the Negro problem, concerning which the color of my skin made me automatically an expert” — Baldwin left the country in order to “find out in what way the specialness of my experience could be made to connect me with other people instead of dividing me from them.” He departed for France on November 11, 1948.

His second novel, Go Tell It on the Mountain, came out five years later, in 1953. That October Harper’s published “Stranger in the Village,” its first essay by Baldwin. “From all available evidence,” it began, “no black man had ever set foot in this tiny Swiss village before I came.” “Me and My House . . . ,” his second essay for the magazine, is widely regarded as his finest; it became the title piece of his first essay collection, Notes of a Native Son. His next novel, Giovanni’s Room, which Baldwin called “another declaration of independence,” details an American expatriate’s homosexual affair with an Italian man. “One thing that Jimmy’s got that’s good is that he’s stubborn,” his brother David later remarked. “When they said, Giovanni’s Room will destroy your career, he said, ‘I’m sorry — that’ll have to happen.’ ”

Baldwin returned to the United States in 1957, the summer the Civil Rights Act was debated in Congress, and emerged as one of the foremost figures in what he called “the latest slave rebellion” — “or what American newspapers erroneously term the civil rights movement.” He was on the cover of the May 17, 1963, issue of Time, under the caption, “Birmingham and Beyond: The Negro’s Push for Equality.” The following week, Baldwin partook of a disappointing conversation on civil rights, organized at Robert Kennedy’s behest, with a group including Harry Belafonte, Lena Horne, and Rip Torn. Kennedy asserted during the discussion that, regardless of their differences, everyone in the room that day was blessed. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Baldwin retorted. “My life is not blessed. I live in hell.” Appearing on a public-television program to discuss race later that evening, he concluded: “There are days — this is one of them — when you wonder what your role is in this country, and what your future is in it, how precisely you’re going to reconcile yourself to your situation here, and how you’re going to communicate to the vast, heedless, unthinking, cruel, white majority that you are here.”

Baldwin was prevented from speaking at the 1964 March on Washington (“They wouldn’t let him get up there because they know Baldwin is liable to say anything,” Malcolm X said), and in the early 1970s, after the assassinations of his friends Medgar Evers, Malcolm X, and Martin Luther King., Jr., he returned to France, where on December 1, 1987, in Saint-Paul-de-Vence, he died. He had authored six novels, seven essay collections, a short-story collection, two poetry collections, a photobook with Avedon, and a children’s story. Five thousand people attended his funeral at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine in New York. Odetta sang; Amiri Baraka, Toni Morrison, Maya Angelou, and French ambassador Emmanuel de Margerie spoke; and the ceremony closed with a recording of Baldwin singing “Precious Lord.”

Quotation — From the April 1986 issue

The projects of poverty

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Wraparound — From the July 1974 issue

Wraparound

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Quotation — From the April 1965 issue

Their own negro

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Article — From the May 1963 issue

Letters from a journey

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Article — From the February 1961 issue

The dangerous road before Martin Luther King

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Article — From the October 1958 issue

The hard kind of courage

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Get access to 164 years of
Harper’s for only $39.99

United States Canada

CATEGORIES

THE CURRENT ISSUE

March 2015

A Sage in Harlem

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

The Man Stopped

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

The Spy Who Fired Me

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Giving Up the Ghost

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Invisible and Insidious

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

view Table Content

FEATURED ON HARPERS.ORG

[Browsings]
William Powell published The Anarchist Cookbook in 1971. He spent the next four decades fighting to take it out of print.
“The book has hovered like an awkward question on the rim of my consciousness for years.”
© JP Laffont/Sygma/Corbis
Article
The Fourth Branch·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

“Both the United States and the Soviet Union saw student politics as a proxy battleground for their rivalry.”
Photograph © Gerald R. Brimacombe/The LIFE Images Collection/Getty Images
Article
Giving Up the Ghost·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

“Stories about past lives help explain this life — they promise a root structure beneath the inexplicable soil of what we see and live and know, what we offer one another.”
Illustration by Steven Dana
Article
The Spy Who Fired Me·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

“In industry after industry, this data collection is part of an expensive, high-tech effort to squeeze every last drop of productivity from corporate workforces.”
Illustration by John Ritter
Article
Invisible and Insidious·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

“Wherever we are, radiation finds and damages us, at best imperceptibly.”
Photograph © 2011 Massimo Mastrorillo and Donald Weber/VII

Number of U.S. congressional districts in which trade with China has produced more jobs than it has cost:

1

Young bilingual children who learned one language first are likelier than monolingual children and bilingual children who learned languages simultaneously to say that a dog adopted by owls will hoot.

An Oklahoma legislative committee voted to defund Advanced Placement U.S. History courses, accusing the curriculum of portraying the United States as “a nation of oppressors and exploiters.”

Subscribe to the Weekly Review newsletter. Don’t worry, we won’t sell your email address!

HARPER’S FINEST

Driving Mr. Albert

By

He could be one of a million beach-bound, black-socked Florida retirees, not the man who, by some odd happenstance of life, possesses the brain of Albert Einstein — literally cut it out of the dead scientist's head.

Subscribe Today