Our Way of Life…or a Few Thoughts on Race, History and Josh Turner

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Charles Hughes writes:

Barack Obama’s towering victory in the pivotal Democratic primary in South Carolina should not conceal one very important fact: the vote cleaved, once again, along lines of race. The Illinois Senator swept the black vote, but trailed in the white vote to both of his main opponents, Senators Clinton and Edwards. Beyond this, AP poll results suggest that nearly twice as many white voters feel that Clinton is a more qualified leader than Obama, with African-American voters reversing those margins. Given these and other signals, I can’t help but feel like this compelling presidential campaign is inching ever closer to reopening the barely-concealed ruptures of race, sex and region that have defined American politics since the beginning. As a student of race and gender in American history, I’m all too cognizant of the pitfalls of such politics, and - as “Super Tuesday” approaches – I feel the weight of our history pressing down on all of us. Given this weighty historical presence, it might seem strange that I keep thinking about two songs off of the latest Josh Turner album.  But I have been, and I’ll tell you why.

I’ve become something of a Turner fan over the past couple years; I’ve found much to enjoy in the South Carolinian’s supple baritone and surprisingly eclectic choice of material.  While I was initially afraid that his deep-voiced rumble would prove a novelty, he seems to be building a nice, consistent career for himself in Nashville country, with memorable singles and a few excellent album tracks.  Turner’s latest, Everything Is Fine, continues in the increasingly popular model of his previous two albums, a silky-smooth blend of pop, country and gospel that – at its best – recalls Charlie Rich and Ronnie Milsap in its textured sophistication.

The best and most beautiful track on Everything Is Fine is also one of the most potentially progressive country releases of the past few years, a duet with neo-soul great Anthony Hamilton that’s as deep a blend of country and R&B as the music mainstream has heard since the era of Ray Charles. “Nowhere Fast” is striking not only for the brooding melody and velvety arrangement, but also for nearly-identical vocal textures employed by the lead vocalists. Turner and Hamilton sound, for all intents and purposes, interchangeable on the ballad, trading verses in their respective twangy baritones.  Each sounds perfectly at home with the song’s gentle melancholy, and – when the two harmonize – the desegregated tradition of Southern (and American) music is reaffirmed.  For a moment, the prospect of “black and white together” becomes more than the empty political rhetoric it so often seems these days.

Just a few songs later, though, Turner crosses the line.  On “South Carolina Low Country,” the closing track, Turner directly calls up a historical legacy of white-supremacist oppression that not only cuts the meaning of the Anthony Hamilton duet to ribbons, but also taints the entirety of his recorded work.  What Turner does can’t simply be chalked up as “country conservatism,” whatever that means: It’s one thing to assert your patriotism or “family values,” or even to use barely-coded language of “rebels” and “states’ rights” as an affirmation of one’s regional identity or political affiliation. It’s entirely another to say what Turner does in the song’s third verse:

God bless Wade Hampton and The Swamp Fox
Their strength will stand the test of time
They fought for a flag, a state, and a way of life
because of that you will always find me singing my
South Carolina low country

Who, exactly are Wade Hampton and Francis “Swamp Fox” Marion? Marion was one of the state’s earliest military heroes, defending the region against enemies both foreign (British) and domestic (Cherokee); he gained his nickname from his use of early guerrilla tactics, which helped him become a victor in even his most desperate campaigns.  Marion – like most of his contemporaries – was also an extremely rich planter and slaveowner, and he was later accused of committing several atrocities against non-combatant Cherokee peoples during the early skirmishes from which he made his name.

Wade Hampton was one of the richest plantation owners in the nineteenth-century South, owning the largest number of slaves in the entire state of South Carolina.  (His uncle, James Henry Hammond, was one of slavery’s great ideological defenders, famous for his impassioned defense of the institution, and notorious for his widespread use of his female slaves as sexual concubines, a common practice that Hammond practiced with exceptional fervor.)  When South Carolina became the first state to secede from the Union in 1860, Hampton quickly joined the Confederate effort, rising prodigiously through the ranks to eventually become a general.

After the war, Hampton became one of the most powerful political figures in the state, spearheading campaigns – which his followers, the “Red Shirts,” often made violent – to destroy the Reconstruction policies which federal, state and local coalitions of black and white citizens had enacted in the previous ten years.  These policies ranged from increased public education to the insurance of voting rights for African-American men, and – collectively – represented one of the truest moments of progressive American politics in our nation’s torrid history.  Crushed by people like Hampton, Reconstruction quickly, and unfairly became associated with failure and incompetence, and the system’s main beneficiaries – African-Americans – were blamed and targeted for a series of repressive actions that, to some, surpassed even those of the slavery age.  Lynchings, segregation, sharecropping, disfranchisement and false histories: This is Wade Hampton’s ultimate legacy.

So, when Josh Turner mentions the name Wade Hampton (or Francis Marion), and pines for the lost “way of life” that these two men fought for, he is essentially waving the flag (or perhaps the “bloody shirt,” to borrow a phrase from the Reconstruction era) for an era defined by racial and class oppression of the highest order, a moment in American history when the shining opportunity of an interracial, class-based political coalition was staunched by the crassest, crudest, and most deadly brand of race-baiting. (You could also argue, of course, that both Marion and Hampton fought for the “way of life” of slavery, but that doesn’t make it damn better, does it?) For Turner to then credit his country artistry to the legacies of Hampton and Marion is even more outrageous, and a direct, historical refutation of the promise represented in the “Nowhere Fast” duet.

It left a horrid taste in my mouth when I first heard the song, and – revisiting it now – I feel even more sickened. It’s incredibly disappointing, and saddens me immensely, as a historian, musician, writer, teacher, citizen and country music fan. With no hint of irony, one of the best modern country singers – who re-ignited the country-soul flame just a few songs earlier with one of R&B’s best contemporary artists – uses just two names, and the nostalgic longing for a previous “way of life,” to illustrate just how deep our nation’s racial nightmare goes. He shows us how far we have to travel towards a true reckoning with our history, and how large the implications of that history loom in our current lives.

The juxtaposition of “Nowhere Fast” and “South Carolina Low Country” doesn’t just reflect the strange contradictions coexisting within American culture (and American life more generally). The fact that something as potentially redemptive as the Hamilton/Turner duet exists side-by-side with the thoroughly regressive sentiments of “South Carolina Low Country” should remind all of us that the lasting imprints of white supremacy (and those who have resisted it) exist just below the surface of even the most benign elements of our popular discourse.   They can sting as easily as they can inspire, and race remains a loaded gun in our culture, our politics and our daily lives.  We stand on the cusp of a potentially revolutionary moment in American political history, where there is a damned good chance that either an African-American man or a white woman will be elected to our highest political office, and I’m hopeful.  Still, my hopefulness is tempered by the understanding that every seeming revolution – or every wonderful interracial duet – is just across the muddy river from the murkiest elements of our history, which Josh Turner chooses to celebrate without reflection.

I’m not sure that I can ever listen to Turner the same way again. In fact, I’m not sure if I can ever listen to him again, at all.  I pray I don’t end up feeling as dejected about the presidential race, but – given our history – I’m prepared to be disappointed.  Ironically, Turner (and Hamilton) might be right after all: We may really be heading nowhere fast. I hope I’m wrong.  God, I hope I’m wrong.

18 Responses to “Our Way of Life…or a Few Thoughts on Race, History and Josh Turner”

  1. David Cantwell Says:

    Charles, Thank you so much for this. I hadn’t heard Turner’s entire album, let alone the Low Country song–and, without your post, wouldn’t have known anything about Wade Hampton or the Swamp Fox. Turner needs to be asked about this song directly. Did he write the song? Not that it being someone else’s song should diminish our disgust…

  2. Spencer Says:

    WTF, Josh Turner? I agree with David that someone should ask Josh (point blank) about the song. If he didn’t write the song, maybe he’s uneducated about Hampton and Fox? But now it’s on record (literally) and he needs to come clean.
    Chas, your exemplary work is eye opening and necessary to get people to communicate through these fascinating, yet troubled times.

  3. Brad Says:

    If I remember correctly, there was a track on Turner’s last album, “White Noise”, which had a chorus of something like “let’s hear it for white noise made by white boys”, inspired by his hatred of rap music. I believe he tried to defend it by saying that Charlie Pride made “white noise” too, which is arguably even more sickening. And sadly, “Long Black Train” is a pretty great song.

  4. Charles Says:

    According to AllMusic, Josh Turner is listed as the sole writer of “South Carolina Low Country.” David’s right that it wouldn’t matter that much if he hadn’t written it, but the fact that he did makes it all the worse.

  5. Charles Says:

    Fascinating comment, Brad. I can remember that song, but I’d never heard his comments about it. That makes the larger story even more troubling.

  6. Barry M. Says:

    I wouldn’t bet the farm on what Turner knows or doesn’t know about those two guys–for whatever little that’s worth. It may easily have been nothing more than two schools were named after these figures where he grew up. Your post raises a good point though: somebody ought to ask him about that some time.

    In the fifties, Marion in particular was turned into a general national hero–a revolutionary war guerilla even–by a kids’ film version on the Walt Disney show–same period as the davy Crocket ad Zorro crazes. This mainly reconfirms that I’m old, but this is true. IA lot of kids in many regions wanted to be The Swamp Fox, in 1956 anyway.

  7. Jim Haygood Says:

    The points Charles raises closely parallel the debate over display of the Confederate flag in South Carolina. Some see it as representing slavery and oppression. Others feel that it stands for very different, honorable principles which featured in the War Between the States — the South’s preference for an agricultural economy, low tariffs, limited federally-funded ‘internal improvements’ … and the right to secede from a U.S. government which began implementing the opposite policies. It is possible to wave the Dixie flag for these higher principles, without wishing to glorify the dismal racial and class oppression which coexisted with them (and which was not limited to the South, by the way). But such nuances easily get lost when condensed into a song lyric.

    Ultimately, one can’t know the intentions of someone who displays the flag, or sings about it as Turner does, without asking (as several commentators sensibly suggest). However, actions tend to speak louder than words. Turner’s duet with Anthony Hamilton doesn’t prove that he’s not racist. But a hard-core white supremacist would hardly be likely to have done such a thing. How many other white country performers have reached out to a black performer? Not so many. Teenager Hank Williams made friends with black singer Rufus ‘Teetot’ Payne in Montgomery, and tried to look him up years later. And then there’s the talented Alabama singer-songwriter Dan Penn, who wrote so many hits for black soul singers in Muscle Shoals. Penn admitted that after MLK’s assassination in 1968, he sometimes got the feeling of being unwelcome because of being white. Prejudice is not necessarily unidirectional.

    I’m much more disturbed by performers who supported the war in Iraq, such as Toby Keith, than by one who takes sides in a war that ended nearly 150 years ago. And by lyrics which explicitly denigrate identifiable groups of people (plenty of those around, too). Turner’s sin, if any, seems mild in comparison. Having never heard of either Josh Turner or Anthony Hamilton before reading Charles’s essay, I’m inclined to take a listen to both of them. And thanks for the tip!

  8. Brad Says:

    Here’s the interview with the quote about “White Noise”. I hope that link works. It’s from a 2006 CMT interview. Turner says, “White noise has a technological meaning and definition, but at the same time, Ernest Tubb is white noise and George Jones is white noise and Johnny Cash and Haggard and even Charley Pride.” That in the song he refers to “hip hop jive” (according to a google lyric search) is - to me - even more offensive.

  9. Charles Says:

    In reference to Mr. Haygood’s characterization of the reasons for the Civil War, I’d advise him to look at South Carolina’s “Declaration Of Causes” for seceding from the Union: http://history.furman.edu/~benson/docs/scdebate2.htm. As you can see, the issue of slavery was the central reason behind the departure of the first slaveholding state from the Union in 1860, and to claim that it wasn’t is simply not historically accurate. In addition, the “other principles” that Mr. Haygood mentions - like tariffs and the agricultural economy - were deeply, even inherently tied to the preservation of slave states. (For example, South Carolinian John C. Calhoun based his 1848 critique of federal tariffs on the fact that any federal power which could impose tariffs on individual states could logically impose their will on the institution of slavery.)

    I’m not denying that there are multiple reasons why people (both in the South and North) fly the Confederate flag. I am, however, suggesting that a reckoning with ALL the things that the symbol means is necessary if we are to truly transcend our national legacy of white supremacy.

  10. Peter Kohan Says:

    The Marion Fox reference could be excused. I remember reading positively about him while learning about the Revolutionary War as a kid up in New York.

    But it’s obvious from some of the other references that the artist needs to be questioned about what he believes in. Because Country fans may be loyal, but they don’t like to feel like an artist is showing them one face and believing something different. As the youngest inductee to the Grand Ole Opry Josh needs to realize that, regional and personal pride aside, recording songs like this will most likely only bring him ill will… or an audience made up of Civil War re-enacters.

  11. Tater Says:

    I just don’t get it (and I’m sure you’ll agree with me). But do we know his intent? Did he make an error in judgement or is he intentionally pining to reestablish a slave state? I assume since both of these guys are considered “state” historical figures a Democrat Governor and Revolutionary War Hero (I mean both guys have a High School named after them). Could he view these guys as nothing more than historical SC leaders? If so, then I give the guy the benefit of the doubt and a break.

    It could be an honest mistake.

    If someone refrenced the good ole days in Missouri and named off Jesse James and Mark Twain should we be as offended. I wouldn’t, but I’m sure someone could be.

    I just don’t get it. It seems we are searching for ways to be offended and trying to assume peoples intent from “symbals” that represent different things to different people.

  12. Peter Kohan Says:

    Tater,

    It’s not just the name dropping. It’s the name dropping plus the line: “They fought for a flag, a state, and a way of life,”

    Did they really fight for a flag… or did they fight to deny human rights and for pure economic self-interest? And didn’t that “way of life” include owning other human beings?

    I’m not as hardcore as Charles is. I’ll be able to listen to Josh Turner and still enjoy his music. Hey, Miles Davis personally beat up women, but I still find Miles sublime and can enjoy his music. And we all go to sports arenas and cheer when they play “Rock and Roll Part II” by Gary Glitter, a known child porn aficionadoand sex offender. These are far more heinous crimes than what Josh Turner is accused of here.

  13. Charles Says:

    Peter’s right. The point is not that Turner drops two names; the point is that he invokes a historical legacy, and a “way of life,” which has very negative implications.

    Moreover, both Marion and (especially) Hampton were powerful figures in directly shaping this history. Jesse James and Mark Twain, though hugely important in American culture, had no such influence. Hampton’s one of the major reasons that Reconstruction fell, and - regardless of what Turner does or does not know about that history - he deserves to be called on it.

  14. Tater Says:

    my intent isn’t to be combative or extend this thread any longer than it needs to be. i am just always amazed how some people are offended or joyous by what others consider trivial. josh turner sang a ?country? song with anthony hamilton, white guy and black guy, nothing new there and no reason to view it as anything more than a duet in my book. now if you want to talk about the rascal flats jamie foxx duet on the CMAs that was something to talk about(one of them there guys couldn’t sing a lick, i’ll let you guess who). i personally believe the tuner/hamilton duet should be judged by it’s quality not by the race of the singers.

    articles that showcase and command outrage over issues that are “trivial” in my view(josh turners intent), I believe, draw attention and energy away from the “real world” issues. here in my neck of the woods I would rather hear people be “outraged” over the fact that the KC school district is one of the worst in the civilized world and/or that over 40% of young black men in KC are unemployed. these are issues worth being outraged over in my opinion. trying to unearth josh turners intent not so much.

    but just like in the “big” media, blogs now deal in “outrage” over every new “trivial” issue because the old issues(really important issues) are to boring to grab anyones attention and we’ve read about them a million times already, “give me something NEW to be offended by”.

    so that brings us full circle to barrack and hillary, so we can talk about race and gender rather than the important stuff. how about policy, qualifications and positions, nope the mainstream media and blogs would rather make race/gender/hairstyles/makeup/orator skills and the kennedy’s the hot topics – anything to keep our short attention spans

    pardon my grammar and spelling David, but I’m in a rush today

    just my 2 cents guys, i’m not arguing or debating

  15. David Cantwell Says:

    Tater, Yes you are too arguing/debating. And that’s good, in my book. We need more of that–and not just at Living in Stereo.

    I agree, and think most folks here would too, that often trivial matters get more attention than substantive ones these days. But…I think we have to be careful what we dismiss as trivial. For one thing, part of what has led us to a place where urban school districts (not just in KC–and not just urban) are in the sorry shape they’re in, and part of the story behind high black unemployment (not just in KC, or black) is America’s founding in, and the persistance of, white supremacy.

    One of the big problems with fixing troubles like the ones you mention is that too many of us (and by us, I mostly mean white people) are so eager to believe that white supremacy is purely a problem in America’s past–and that the real obstacle to progress is all these complainers who won’t let the past drop.

    There’s a great essay in our The Reading List page here (link to the right), “Unameable Objects, Unspeakable Acts,” in which James Baldwin addresses some of the issues involved when someone like Turner sings lines like the ones Charles quoted in his post and what happens when we continue to feel pride for a past we’ve yet to confront honestly, even today. Baldwin writes:

    “[White] People who imagine that history flatters them (as it does, indeed, since they wrote it) are impaled on their history like a butterfly on a pin and become incapable of seeing or changing themselves or the world.

    “This is the place in which, it seems to me, most white Americans find themselves. They are dimly, or vividly, aware that the history they have fed themselves is mainly a lie, but they do not know how to release themselves from it, and they suffer enormously from the resulting personal incoherence. This incoherence is heard nowhere more plainly than in those stammering, terrified dialogues white Americans sometimes entertain with that black conscience, the black man in America. The nature of this stammering can be reduced to a plea: Do not blame me. I was not there. I did not do it. My history has nothing to do with Europe or the slave trade. Anyway, it was your chiefs who sold you to me. I was not present on the middle passage. I am not responsible for the textile mills of Manchester, or the cotton fields of Mississippi. Besides, consider how the English, too, suffered in those mills and in those awful cities! I, also, despise the governors of Southern states and the sheriffs of Southern counties; and I also want your child to have a decent education and rise as high as his capabilities will permit. I have nothing against you, nothing! What have you got against me? What do you want?

    “But, on the same day, in another gathering, and in the most private chamber of his heart always, he, the white man, remains proud of that history for which he does not wish to pay, and from which, materially, he has profited so much.”

    I think this is especially eloquent and perceptive, even for Baldwin. I think too that Turner’s song wants to be proud of a history for which it doesn’t appear to want to pay and from which he and all of us have profited so much. And this is why I think the issues that Charles raises are far from trivial. Turner’s song, and on this point his intent is mostly irrelevant, is an argument (and a false one, at that) not only about the past but about the way we should live in the here and now.

    Is some song by Josh Turner more important than the state of, say, American education? Of course not. But this song is a reminder of the unpaid debts that remains a part of our sad shared story and that impale us still like a butterfly on a pin. –David

  16. Jim Haygood Says:

    Well, I listened to some cuts by both Josh Turner and Anthony Hamilton. Both are talented, but neither is really my cup of tea.

    Still, I love music that explores the intersection between country and soul, with their common roots. A good example would be Solomon Burke’s 2006 album, Nashville. The African-African minister returns to his country roots, with duets by Patty Griffin, Dolly Parton, Emmylou Harris, Gillian Welch, and Patty Loveless. Producer Buddy Miller had a lot to do with making this album happen.

    Probably the original intersection between white and black folk music traditions was personified in Elvis Presley. His lyrics weren’t political, but his crossing of formerly-enforced boundaries between [white] popular music and ‘race’ music certainly was. Elvis is one of those charismatic, enigmatic figures onto whom other musicians project their feelings, in the hundreds of songs written about him.

    One of my favorite such projections is the song ‘Elvis Presley,’ by the late singer-songwriter Dave Carter. In his dreamlike lyrics, the tragic figure of Elvis gets all confused with the Lost Cause:

    Then he took me over cracker malls and chicken shacks
    Where the lost souls prowl the lonesome oceanside
    They were waitin’ on the shadow of the Merrimack
    Floatin’ brave as Davis sabers on the tide

    But he said, Dixie slumbers in the cold cold ground
    And Lincoln molders in the clay
    And they’ve got John Wilkes Booth on the radio
    Singin’ “Throw out the lifeline, throw out the lifeline
    ‘Cause somebody’s driftin’ away.’

    http://www.tracygrammer.com/php/lyrics.php?uid=123

    We all have our own memories and cultural traditions. And they don’t necessarily have to conflict. Long live James Baldwin! Long live Dixie!

  17. Barry M. Says:

    Well, black-white interchange in American music goes back more than a little back before Elvis!

    And as any observer of the recent South Carolina primary may have noticed, some of the worst conceivable public schools in e country are in that state, especially (and boy, this will shock everybody) rural black community schools, which are hovels.

    But i do think it’s wise to learn more about the specific context of Bad Stuff like Charles raises here as well as the general context. I don’ say this because ignorance is an excuse for a record spreading ill myths and destructive suggestions, but because there are many asses to be busted, all around, and we also get to choose which ones to whack. It may be wise to err on the side f benefit of the doubt.

    What I know of Josh is that he’s a tea-totaling church boy, in many ways mild but with enough required ego to be the star he’s become, and that, in the blatantly suburban context in which he was raised (recently visited on his post-Opry induction CMT special).. you get the picture of a guy who’s actual stay-at-home lifestyle leaves limited room for signifying he’s just “one of the boys”–which, we all have probably noticed, is a sort of base line requirement in country music. Sometimes even for women. So he gets into– a little,– the “a white Southern boy can have some sort of positive identity too, can’t he” ting, and maybe he’s a little uncertain about where to get on and off with that–which a lot of people who feel like to have to prove something do.
    I would advise strongly watching out for mild boys trying to prove that they’re tough in selections of President of the United States, in the choice of singers to pay attention to–well maybe somebody should just ask Josh about this some time, and point out the issue with ay leatst one name he dropped. My guess is that e will go and sin no more

    Barry

  18. Charles Says:

    I also want to point out that, as much as I’m concerned with the specific sentiments expressed in Turner’s song, I don’t think that the real issue here is whether or not Josh Turner is a white supremacist, or whether “South Carolina Low Country” is a condemnable piece of music, etc. I spotlighted the song, and the artist, because it seems representative to me of how far we ALL have to go, and how careful we ALL have to be in remembering the painful, complicated legacies that exist just below the surface of American life. Turner’s personal role in this is important, and he should be called on it, but it would be a mistake to turn the issue into one about Turner, and *just* Turner.

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