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History
photography
Unpublished Photographs of Civil-Rights Icons Highlight James Baldwin's Role as 'Spiritual Historian'
Previously Published.
James Baldwin was born in Harlem Hospital on August 2, 1924, and grew up in the urban North. After Schapiro read
his story in The New Yorker , he knew he
had to photograph the author, and convinced LIFE magazine to run a major story on him. They started in Harlem before continuing on to the South.
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Never Published.
"The first time I photographed Dr. King,"
says Steve Schapiro, "I was not aware that
he was going to be one of the most important people of our time." In fact, Schapiro barely noticed him in the
background when capturing this never-before-
published image of Reverend Ralph Abernathy, Dr. King’s best friend and advisor in Clarksdale, Mississippi,
1963.
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Next
Page from James Baldwin: The Fire Next Time with photograph by Steve Schapiro.
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Previously Published.
United States Representative John Lewis, then chairman of the Student Nonviolent
Coordinating Committee (SNCC), in Clarksdale, May 1963. Congressman
Lewis has written an original introduction
to this edition of The Fire Next Time.
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Never Published.
James Baldwin joined the fight for equality in the South. Mostly, he offered a passionate voice for justice and a plea for
a nation’s salvation. In Mississippi in 1963, he visited the NAACP’s Medgar Evers, who was slain later that June,
following President Kennedy's landmark
televised address on civil rights. This photo was recently discovered in the
photographer's contact sheets.
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Page from James Baldwin: The Fire Next Time.
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Previously Published.
Schapiro and other photographers followed the march for its five-day, fifty-four-mile route. “We walked, and sometimes we would sit in the back of a wagon,” Schapiro recalls. “At one point, it
rained, and suddenly the whole march was wrapped in white plastic.” Selma-to-Montgomery March, 1965.
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Previously Published.
Ralph Abernathy (rear) and Dr. King lead the way on the road to Montgomery. The
American flag was a natural symbol for a
movement that called on the nation to live up to its principles. 1965
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I t has been more than 50 years since the 1963 publication of James Baldwin’s The Fire Next Time , a New York er essay that in its book form turned into a career-defining assessment of American life, but the author has recently been the subject of a spate of posthumous interest. As the subject of an Oscar-nominated documentary and the thematic inspiration for Ta-Nehisi Coates’ Between the World and Me , Baldwin has again and again proved his continued relevance over the last few years.
Now, a new Taschen edition of T he Fire Next Time pairs the seminal text with photographs by Steve Schapiro, including some images that have never been published before.
Schapiro and Baldwin had a long history together. In 1963, Baldwin was the subject of a multi-page story in LIFE Magazine with photographs by Schapiro, who traveled from New York City to the American South with the author. As the resulting story, with text by Jane Howard, explained, the book’s release had changed Baldwin’s life but he was proving up to the task he then faced:
“I’ve been here 350 years but you’ve never seen me,” said the frail, gnomelike Negro of 38. James Baldwin spoke from a New Orleans church pulpit but he was talking to a lay audience, mostly white, and he was giving them hell. He spoke both as one Negro and as his race’s voice against the rigid attitudes of white men’s fears and judgments: “I represent sin, love, death, sex, hell, terror and other things too frightening for you to recognize.”
This was a new role for Baldwin, whose main occupation has been writing probing novels ( Go Tell It on the Mountain, Giovanni’s Room, Another Country ) and articulate, somewhat specialized essays on the Negro in America. For 10 years his novels sold well, his essays were accorded respectful criticism, and Baldwin swam around fairly anonymously in the intellectual fishbowls of New York and Paris.
Then early this year a searing essay he wrote for The New York er was combined with a gentle letter to one of his nephews, and became a bestselling book called The Fire Next Time . So intuitively does it dissect the nation’s explosive race problem that Baldwin found himself a celebrity overnight. He also, reluctantly but doggedly, found himself on a whistle-stop speaking tour.
That Baldwin took naturally to his role didn’t mean he was glad to take it on. His existence as a public figure got in the way of his life as a writer, and he found himself having to respond to people — well-meaning white liberals, in particular — who saw his celebrity as a reason to believe he had nothing to complain about anymore.
Schapiro’s photographs of the civil-rights movement are a reminder of just how much that perspective missed the point. Baldwin may have been personally insulated by wealth and fame and talent, but his people were still oppressed and his responsibility to express that oppression only grew as he moved toward his goal of being a great artist — not just, he reminded the magazine, a good one.
“An artist is a sort of emotional or spiritual historian,” Baldwin told LIFE. “His role is to make you realize the doom and glory of knowing who you are and what you are.”
Write to Lily Rothman at lily.rothman@time.com .
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STROLLING down a quiet street in a small town, James Baldwin came upon a
scene that has since haunted his dreams.
From a sunlit patch of grass came the singing laughter of a child.
Baldwin looked —and saw a white man swinging his little daughter in
the air. "It didn't last for more than a second," recalls Baldwin, "but
it was an unforgettable touch of beauty, a glimpse of another world.
Then I looked down and saw a shadow. The shadow was a nigger—me."
To Author James Baldwin, 38, this parable reveals everything worth
knowing about the black man's view of himself in 20th century white
America. It also reveals much about James Baldwin himself. He is not,
by any stretch of the imagination, a Negro leader. He tries no civil
rights cases in the courts, preaches from no pulpit, devises no
stratagems for sit-ins, Freedom Riders or street marchers. He published
an essay in 1959 called Nobody Knows My Name, and four years later, in
Birmingham and Harlem, and in all the Birminghams and Harlems in the
nation and the world, most Negroes still do not know his name. He is a
nervous, slight, almost fragile figure, filled with frets and fears. He
is effeminate in manner, drinks considerably, smokes cigarettes in
chains, and he often loses his audience with overblown arguments.
Nevertheless, in the U.S. today there is not another writer—white or
black—who expresses with such poignancy and abrasiveness the dark
realities of the racial ferment in North and South.
Last week Baldwin was in California, hopping from city to city to talk
to college and high school students. Thrust from typewriter to rostrum
by virtue of a widely acclaimed, blistering essay in The New Yorker
(TIME, Jan. 4), now in book form under the title The Fire Next Time,
Baldwin spared his audiences nothing. He spoke not for himself but
for all Negroes to all whites. "I hoed a lot of cotton," he said. "I
laid a lot of track. I dammed a lot of rivers. You wouldn't have had
this country if it hadn't been for me ... When I was going to school. I
began to be bugged by the teaching of American history, because it
seemed that history had been taught without cognizance of my presence.
It is my responsibility now to give you as true a version of your
history as I can."
Identity & Myths. The history, as Baldwin sees it, is an unending story
of man's inhumanity to man, of the white's refusal to see the black
simply as another human being, of the white man's delusions and the
Negro's demoralization. The theme floods his novels and essays. The
white man, he writes, is guilt-ridden and sex-ridden, and he has
managed over the years to delude himself by transferring his own
failures onto the Negro. "At the root of the American Negro problem is
the necessity of the American white man to find a way of living with
the Negro in order to be able to live with himself. And the history of
this problem can be reduced to the means used by Americans—lynch law
and law, segregation and legal acceptance, terrorization and
concession—either to come to terms with this necessity, or to find a
way around it, or (most usually) to find a way of doing both these
things at once ... In this long battle, the white man's motive was the
protection of his identity; the black man was motivated by the need to
establish an identity." And this has led
David Baldwin was many years Emma's senior; he may have been born before Emancipation in 1863, although James did not know exactly how old his stepfather was. David's mother, Barbara, was born enslaved and lived with the Baldwins in New York before her death when James was seven. David also had a light-skinned half-brother that his mother's erstwhile slavemaster had fathered on her, and a sister named Barbara, whom James and others in the family called "Taunty". David's father and James's paternal grandfather had also been born enslaved. David had been married earlier, begetting a daughter, who was as old as Emma when the two were wed, and at least two sons―David, who would die in jail, and Sam, who was eight years James's senior, lived with the Baldwins in New Y
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