Frank Beacham's Journal

The Red Scare of the 1940s and 1950s also targeted a who's who of major musicians

The Red Scare of the 1940s and 1950s famously ended the careers of numerous film-industry professionals and forced others to avoid blacklisting by repudiating their political beliefs and "naming names" of suspected Communist sympathizers to the House Committee on Un-Activities (HUAC). 

But Hollywood actors, directors and screenwriters were not the only victims of the Cold War anti-Communist purges in the entertainment industry.

Prominent figures in the music industry were also targeted, including Leonard Bernstein, Aaron Copland, Lena Horne, Pete Seeger and Artie Shaw, all of whom were named publicly as suspected Communist sympathizers on this day in 1950 —72 years ago — in the infamous publication Red Channels: The Report of Communist Influence in Radio and Television.

Red Channels was a tract issued by the right-wing journal, Counterattack, the self-described "Newsletter of Facts to Combat Communism."

By 1950, Joseph McCarthy and the HUAC had already been at work for several years, and figures like singer Paul Robeson and the so-called Hollywood Ten had already been blacklisted. But Red Channels sought to go further, exposing what it called a widespread Communist effort to achieve "domination of American broadcasting and telecasting, preparatory to the day when…[the] Party will assume control of this nation as the result of a final upheaval and civil war."

Some even believe that the men responsible for Red Channels — including several former members of the FBI — were given illegal access to the confidential files of HUAC in preparing their report, which exposed 151 names in the entertainment industry to public scrutiny and the threat of blacklisting.

Joining famous names like Orson Welles, Lillian Hellman, Arthur Miller and Dorothy Parker on the Red Channels list were the aforementioned Bernstein, Copland, Horne, Seeger and Shaw and numerous other musical figures, including the legendary harmonica player, Larry Adler, the folksinger Burl Ives, former Library of Congress folklorist Alan Lomax and The New York Times music critic Olin Downes.

The evidence of Communist leanings offered in Red Channels included Lena Horne’s appearance on the letterhead of a South African famine relief program; Aaron Copland’s appearance on a panel at a 1949 Scientific and Cultural Conference for World Peace; and Leonard Bernstein’s affiliation with the Committee to Re-Elect Benjamin J. Davis, a black, socialist New York City councilman.

In the end, Red Channels caused some of those named to be blacklisted — Pete Seeger, most famously — to fight publicly to prove their "loyalty" to the United States and still others to repudiate their political pasts and provide the HUAC with names of other suspected prominent figures.

Thanks History.com

On this day in 1858 — 164 years ago — newly nominated senatorial candidate Abraham Lincoln addressed the Illinois Republican Convention in Springfield and warned that the nation faced a crisis that could destroy the Union

On this day in 1858 — 164 years ago — newly nominated senatorial candidate Abraham Lincoln addressed the Illinois Republican Convention in Springfield and warned that the nation faced a crisis that could destroy the Union.

Speaking to more than 1,000 delegates in an ominous tone, Lincoln paraphrased a passage from the New Testament: "a house divided against itself cannot stand." The issue dividing the nation was slavery's place in the growing western territories and the extent of federal power over individual states' rights. Lincoln declared that only the federal government had the power to end slavery.

While the southern states relied on an economy and lifestyle dependent upon the cheap labor provided by African-American slaves, the North opposed slavery on moral grounds. The northern states also considered industrialization and manufacturing the key to America's economic future — not farming, as before.

The entrance of new states into the Union, such as Missouri, Kansas and Nebraska, brought to a head unresolved conflicts over which government entity — state or federal — should make the final decision regarding slavery.

For his part, Lincoln firmly believed that slavery was immoral and was wholly incompatible with the principles of the Declaration of Independence embodied in the phrase "all men are created equal." However, Lincoln prioritized preserving the Union above all else.

After Lincoln's speech, several of his friends expressed dismay at its "radical" content. Leonard Swett, a lawyer and friend of Lincoln's, later wrote that Lincoln's talk of using federal power to end slavery was "unfortunate and inappropriate," although Swett admitted that in retrospect Lincoln was ultimately correct.

At the time, the people of Illinois ultimately agreed with Swett. Lincoln lost the close Senate race of 1858 to the more moderate Stephen Douglas, who advocated states' sovereignty.

Lincoln's eloquent speech, though, earned him national attention and his strong showing in the polls encouraged the people to back his ultimately successful bid for the presidency in 1860.

Above, Lincoln pictured in 1858

Thanks History.com

On this day in 1922 — 100 years ago — President Warren G. Harding became the first president to have his voice transmitted by radio

On this day in 1922 — 100 years ago — President Warren G. Harding, while addressing a crowd at the dedication of a memorial site for the composer of the “Star Spangled Banner,” Francis Scott Key, became the first president to have his voice transmitted by radio.

The broadcast heralded a revolutionary shift in how presidents addressed the American public. It was not until three years later, however, that a president would deliver a radio-specific address. That broadcast featured President Calvin Coolidge.

In 1920, radio station KDKA in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, announced that Harding was the official winner of that year’s presidential election. It was the first time election returns were broadcast live. Harding was an advocate for advanced technology. In 1923, he recorded a speech on an early “phonograph” that recorded and played back sound on wax discs.

Harding was also the first president to own a radio and was the first to have one installed in the White House. The way presidents have communicated with the public has changed with each advance in technology over the years. In early America, presidents such as George Washington and James Monroe traveled by horseback or carriage to address crowds in person and published statements in “broadsheets” and early newspapers.

Lincoln had the relative advantage of traveling by locomotive or using the telegraph. Telephones appeared in the White House in 1877 while Rutherford B. Hayes was president. Like Harding, President William Taft used the phonograph to distribute recordings of his speeches.

However, the most rapid advancement in communication for presidents occurred in the 20th century. With the invention of radio and television and then the internet, politicians could transmit information instantaneously. Franklin Roosevelt proved a master at utilizing the radio during the 1930s and 1940s with his “Fireside Chats.”

Many credit John F. Kennedy’s “telegenic” good looks and calm demeanor in televised presidential debates for his victory in the 1960 presidential election. Bill Clinton was the first president to set up a White House website. Improvements in communication technology have also allowed presidents to reach substantially greater numbers of their constituents.

In 1829, President Andrew Jackson spoke to approximately 10,000 people at his inauguration. Harding’s Francis Scott Key memorial dedication was heard by 125,000. President Coolidge’s inaugural radio address reached 23 million via the radio.

White House historians estimate that if George Washington had addressed a crowd of 1,000 people every day during his three month pre-inaugural tour of the country in 1789, he would have been heard by only 100,000 Americans.

In the above photo, Harding is shown in that first radio address

Photo by Pacific and Atlantic Photos, New York City

Pierre Salinger was born 97 years ago today

Pierre Salinger: A Personal Remembrance

Pierre Salinger was born 97 years ago today. He was White House Press Secretary to Presidents John F. Kennedy and Lyndon B. Johnson. Also, Salinger served as a U.S. Senator in 1964 and was campaign manager for the Robert F. Kennedy presidential campaign.

He later became known for his work as an ABC News correspondent, and in particular for his coverage of the American hostage crisis in Iran and the bombing of Pan Am Flight 103 over Lockerbie, Scotland.

It was at ABC News that I got to know and work with Salinger. In 1978, he was hired by the network as its Paris bureau chief. He became the network's chief European correspondent based in London in 1983. Under Salinger, I worked in Paris for about six weeks — doing a variety of stories.

Because Salinger was as much a French cultural ambassador as newsman, he was a lot of fun to be with. He was far more casual about news stories than his choice of food and drink, which he took very seriously. We ate at some amazing restaurants, where Salinger was always treated more like an important food critic than a VIP guest.

For a while in Paris, ABC booked me into the exclusive Hotel Saint Georges. After a period of working several days in a row with no time off, Salinger ordered a limo and put it at my disposal for an entire day to go anywhere I wanted. I was amazed by his generosity.

Such luxury is long gone from television news today, but in the era of Pierre Salinger it was still very much alive. He lived life to the fullest and made sure those around him enjoyed the fruits as well. Later, after leaving ABC, Salinger hosted a program in the early 1990s on the A&E cable network called Dining in France. No one was better qualified!

Salinger later made a permanent move to France, making good on his promise that, "If (George W.) Bush wins, I'm going to leave the country and spend the rest of my life in France."

Salinger died in October, 2004 of heart failure near his home, La Bastide Rose, in Le Thor, France at the age of 79.

Ernesto "Che" Guevara was born 94 years ago today

Ernesto "Che" Guevara was born 94 years ago today.

An Argentine Marxist revolutionary, physician, author, guerrilla leader, diplomat and military theorist, Guevara was a major figure of the Cuban Revolution. His stylized visage has become a ubiquitous countercultural symbol of rebellion and global insignia in popular culture.

As a young medical student, Guevara traveled throughout South America and was radicalized by the poverty, hunger and disease he witnessed. His burgeoning desire to help overturn what he saw as the capitalist exploitation of Latin America by the United States prompted his involvement in Guatemala's social reforms under President Jacobo Árbenz, whose eventual CIA-assisted overthrow at the behest of the United Fruit Company solidified Guevara's political ideology.

Later, in Mexico City, he met Raúl and Fidel Castro, joined their 26th of July Movement and sailed to Cuba aboard the yacht, Granma, with the intention of overthrowing U.S.-backed Cuban dictator, Fulgencio Batista.

Guevara soon rose to prominence among the insurgents, was promoted to second-in-command and played a pivotal role in the victorious two-year guerrilla campaign that deposed the Batista regime. He was a prolific writer and diarist, composing a seminal manual on guerrilla warfare, along with a best-selling memoir about his youthful continental motorcycle journey.

Guevara left Cuba in 1965 to foment revolution abroad, first unsuccessfully in Congo-Kinshasa and later in Bolivia, where he was captured by CIA-assisted Bolivian forces and summarily executed.

Guevara remains both a revered and reviled historical figure, polarized in the collective imagination in a multitude of biographies, memoirs, essays, documentaries, songs and films. As a result of his perceived martyrdom, poetic invocations for class struggle, and desire to create the consciousness of a "new man" driven by moral rather than material incentives, he has evolved into a quintessential icon of various leftist-inspired movements.

An Alberto Korda photograph of Guevara, titled Guerrillero Heroico (shown), was cited by the Maryland Institute College of Art as "the most famous photograph in the world." It was taken on March 5, 1960 at the La Coubre memorial service.

On this day in 1971 — 51 years ago — the New York Times began publishing what’s now called “The Pentagon Papers”

On this day in 1971 — 51 years ago — the New York Times began publishing what’s now called “The Pentagon Papers.”

The 47-volume Pentagon analysis of how the U.S. commitment in Southeast Asia grew over a period of three decades.

Daniel Ellsberg, a former Defense Department analyst who had become an antiwar activist, had stolen the documents. After unsuccessfully offering the documents to prominent opponents of the war in the U.S. Senate, Ellsberg gave them to the New York Times.

Officially called The History of the U.S. Decision Making Process on Vietnam, the "Pentagon Papers" disclosed closely guarded communiques, recommendations and decisions concerning the U.S. military role in Vietnam during the Kennedy and Johnson administrations, along with the diplomatic phase in the Eisenhower years.

The publication of the papers created a nationwide furor, with congressional and diplomatic reverberations as all branches of the government debated over what constituted "classified" material and how much should be made public.

The publication of the documents precipitated a crucial legal battle over "the people's right to know," and led to an extraordinary session of the U.S. Supreme Court to settle the issue.

Although the documents were from the Kennedy and Johnson administrations, President Richard Nixon opposed their publication, both to protect the sources in highly classified appendices, and to prevent further erosion of public support for the war.

On June 30, the Supreme Court ruled that the Times had the right to publish the material. Government charges against Ellsberg were dismissed due to “improper government conduct.”

Today, Ellsberg is considered a hero and has praised Edward Snowden for his act of releasing government spying papers to the public.

The publication of the "Pentagon Papers," along with previous suspected disclosures of classified information to the press, led to the creation of a White House unit to plug information leaks to journalists. The illegal activities of the unit, known as the "Plumbers," and their subsequent cover-up, became known collectively as the "Watergate scandal," which resulted in President Nixon's resignation in August, 1974.

History has proven that people should reserve judgement on the government’s claim of national security in leaks. Often the only secret is the misconduct of the government itself.

Above, Daniel Ellsberg is shown after being freed from government charges

(Thanks to History.com for background information.)

Jacques Cousteau was born 112 years ago today

Jacques Cousteau with his dive saucer

Jacques Cousteau was born 112 years ago today.

Cousteau was a French naval officer, explorer, conservationist, filmmaker, innovator, scientist, photographer, author and researcher who studied the sea and all forms of life in water. He co-developed the Aqua-Lung, pioneered marine conservation and was a member of the Académie française.

After an automobile accident cut short his career in naval aviation, Cousteau indulged his interest in the sea. In Toulon, where he was serving on the Condorcet, Cousteau carried out his first underwater experiments, thanks to his friend Philippe Tailliez who in 1936 lent him some Fernez underwater goggles — predecessors of modern swimming goggles.

His two sons, Jean-Michel (born 1938) and Philippe (1940–1979), took part in the adventures of the Calypso. In 1975, John Denver released the tribute song, "Calypso," on his album "Windsong," and on the B-side of his hit song, "I'm Sorry."

"Calypso" became a hit on its own and was later considered the new A-side, reaching #2 on the charts. Cousteau's legacy includes more than 120 television documentaries, more than 50 books and an environmental protection foundation with 300,000 members. He liked to call himself an "oceanographic technician."

Cousteau was, in reality, a sophisticated showman, teacher and lover of nature. His work permitted many people to explore the resources of the oceans. His work also created a new kind of scientific communication, criticized at the time by some academics.

The so-called "divulgationism," a simple way of sharing scientific concepts, was soon employed in other disciplines and became one of the most important characteristics of modern television broadcasting.

Cousteau died on June 25, 1997 at age 87.

Here is a short film on Cousteau’s work

Phillipe Cousteau

Here’s a personal remembrance of shooting video for Jacque Cousteau's television show onboard the Calypso.

Cousteau had long recorded his documentaries and television programs on film, but in the mid-1970s he began using video.

While based in Miami, I formed Television Matrix, one of the first small format video production companies. I got a call to shoot video for Jacques Cousteau and his son, Philippe, on the Calypso for The Cousteau Society.

Over a few months, we shot several segments with Jacques Cousteau on the Calypso. The main producer on the shoots was Philippe, who worked closely with his father on his film and video production.

On June 28, 1979, while the Calypso was on an expedition to Portugal, Philippe — Cousteau’s preferred and designated successor and with whom he had co-produced all his films since 1969 — died in a PBY Catalina flying boat crash in the Tagus river near Lisbon.

Jacques Cousteau was deeply affected by Philippe’s death and it was the last I worked with him. He then called his eldest son, the architect Jean-Michel Cousteau, to be at his side. Their collaboration lasted 14 years.

On June 10, 1990 — 32 years ago —Luther Campbell and two other members of 2LiveCrew were arrested on charges of public obscenity in a Hollywood, Florida nightclub

Though the First Amendment to the Constitution clearly states that the U.S. Congress "shall make no law...abridging the freedom of speech," free speech is widely understood to have its limits.

It is considered dangerous and potentially criminal, for example, to yell, "Fire!" in a crowded theater. But what about yelling "$&%#@!!" in a crowded nightclub?

Lenny Bruce and other comedians tested the limits of that practice in the 1960s, but it was not until the late 1980s that the issue of obscenity came front and center in the world of popular music. The group that brought it there was 2LiveCrew, a hip-hop group led by Luther "Luke Skyywalker" Campbell.

On June 10, 1990 — 32 years ago — just days after a controversial ruling by a Florida federal judge, Campbell and two other members of 2LiveCrew were arrested on charges of public obscenity after performing material from their album, As Nasty As They Wanna Be, in a Hollywood, Florida nightclub.

U. S. District Court Judge Jose Gonzalez had set events in motion three days earlier in a 62-page written opinion that began, "This is a case between two ancient enemies: Anything Goes and Enough Already." At issue in the case before Judge Gonzalez was whether the songs on 2LiveCrew's album, As Nasty As They Wanna Be, were obscene and therefore not protected by the First Amendment.

Applying a standard established by the Supreme Court in its landmark Miller v. State of California case, Gonzalez ruled that As Nasty As They Wanna Be violated local "community standards" of decency without possessing any mitigating artistic merit.

Two days later, a Fort Lauderdale record-store owner was arrested for selling copies of the 2LiveCrew album. The day after that, Campbell and his cohorts were arrested.

Civil libertarians and prominent academics rose immediately to the defense of Campbell et al., making legal arguments in support of their right to perform and sell songs like "Me So Horny" and "Throw The ****." Ultimately, those arguments prevailed, as the 11th Circuit Court of Appeals overturned Judge Gonzalez's order and the United States Supreme Court declined to reconsider that ruling.

Predictably, the biggest winners in the case was 2LiveCrew. The publicity surrounding their legal battle helped make a multiplatinum smash hit out of As Nasty As They Wanna Be, despite a near-total lack of radio play.

As for Luther Campbell and his bandmates, all charges against them were dropped.

Thanks History.com

Several Hollywood figures — including film stars Frederic March, John Garfield, Paul Muni and Edward G. Robinson — were named in a FBI report as Communist Party members 73 years ago today

Edward G. Robinson (r) and Frederic March (l)

Several Hollywood figures — including film stars Frederic March, John Garfield, Paul Muni and Edward G. Robinson — were named in a FBI report as Communist Party members 73 years ago today.

Such reports, such as the one in 1949, helped to fuel the anticommunist hysteria in the United States during the late-1940s and 1950s. The FBI report relied largely on accusations made by "confidential informants," supplemented with some highly dubious analysis.

It began by arguing that the Communist Party in the United States claimed to have "been successful in using well-known Hollywood personalities to further Communist Party aims." The report particularly pointed to the actions of the Academy Award-winning actor Frederic March.

Suspicions about March were raised by his activities in a group that was critical of America's growing nuclear arsenal (the group included other well-known radicals such as Helen Keller and Danny Kaye). March had also campaigned for efforts to provide relief to war-devastated Russia.

The report went on to name several others who shared March's political leanings: Edward G. Robinson, Paul Robeson, Dorothy Parker and a host of Hollywood actors, writers and directors.

The FBI report was part of a continuing campaign by the U.S. government to suggest that Hollywood was rife with communist activists who were using the medium of motion pictures to spread the Soviet party line. Congressional investigations into Hollywood began as early as 1946.

In 1947, Congress cited 10 Hollywood writers and directors for contempt because they refused to divulge their political leanings or name others who might be communists. The "Hollywood Ten," as they came to be known, were later convicted and sent to prison for varying terms.

In response to this particular round of allegations from the FBI, movie tough-guy Edward G. Robinson declared:

"These rantings, ravings, accusations, smearing and character assassinations can only emanate from sick, diseased minds of people who rush to the press with indictments of good American citizens. I have played many parts in my life, but no part have I played better or been more proud of than that of being an American citizen."

The Tragic Story of Iona Cannon

The Tragic Story of Iona Cannon

I saw Sue Cannon Hill for the first time on television. Her grief-stricken words in the documentary, The Uprising of ’34, upset me.

Teary and emotionally fragile, she told in a gripping interview how the management at the local textile mill — led by my grandfather — had nearly destroyed her family.

But when she spoke his name, she put a knife through me. I’d never heard my family name spoken that way. “Beacham,” she said, dripping with disdain.

To her, it was the name of a mass murderer, the man who killed her father, Claude Cannon, and destroyed her mother. It was a name she’d never forget...or forgive.

In late 1994, I was planning to return to South Carolina for the Christmas holidays. I wrote a letter to Sue Hill, telling her who I was. I apologized for what my grandfather had done.

I told her I had been surprised to learn what happened to her father and mother, and wanted to know more. I asked what I could do to make things right. Would she allow me to visit? Could we talk about it?

A couple of weeks went by before I heard back from her. I later learned that she, like others I had written at the time, saw the name “Beacham” in the return address of my envelope and had been unable to open the letter.

Finally, after a few days, their curiosity won out. One of her friends told Sue that my letter to her had been harmless, and it might be okay after all to read what I had sent.

A relieved, but hesitant, Sue Hill called and invited me to her home during the Christmas holiday.

As I approached the sprawling modern ranch house where Sue now lived with her husband, I couldn’t help but be surprised at how far she had come from the days of living in poverty with her mother on Chiquola’s mill hill.

Sue had married a prosperous businessman, I was told, and this home — one of the nicest in town — fronted fifty acres of land with two private ponds.

I was ushered into a huge, rectangular living room with a panoramic rear view of the extended rural landscape. Sue’s greeting was gracious, but I sensed that she was not comfortable. Neither was I. We were both walking on egg shells.

As we seated ourselves across from each other on comfortable sofas at one end of the room, the Southern tradition of beginning a visit with small talk seemed terribly inappropriate.

I knew Sue wanted to know why I was there, and decided it was best to get to the point right away.

I never knew Dan Beacham and was not there to defend him. He was a mystery to me, I told her, and she probably knew more about him than I did. I was horrified by what he had apparently done, and wanted to learn the truth about him.

I wanted her to tell me what she knew — warts and all. I wanted to record it on a tape recorder, I told her, so that I didn’t miss a word of her story.

She agreed, I clumsily set up the recorder, and we began what was to be a wrenching afternoon.

After Claude Cannon’s death at the mill, Sue’s mother, Iona Cannon, found herself with no job, six young children to raise and an eviction notice ordering her to vacate her mill-owned home. Because Honea Path was a one employer town, there was no option of finding alternative work there.

Mrs. Cannon, who had no money to relocate, had a simple choice: either lose her home, or go back to work for the very men responsible for killing her husband.

Even more humiliating, she would be allowed to resume her job at the Chiquola Mill only after she pledged to never again utter the word “union.”

The pain in Sue's face was vivid as she recalled the extraordinary grief her mother had endured and was forced to conceal throughout most of her life.

“Can you imagine waking up one day with no husband, no job and six children staring you in the face? Not knowing where your next meal is coming from. That’s what my mom faced.”

While at least one of the Chiquola widows placed her children in an orphanage, Sue said her mother chose to keep her family together.

First, that meant taking a job at the mill — and the oath of silence that came with it. “They talked to her like they wanted to. They told her to either take the job on their terms or leave.”

I asked Sue what it was like at home in those days. Did her mother ever talk about what happened to their father at the mill? No, she responded, Iona Cannon’s grief played out not in words, but in actions — sometimes bizarre actions.

One was a morbid habit. At night, Mrs. Cannon often sat quietly for hours at home clenching the blood-soaked clothes her husband wore at the time of his death. She stopped only after Sue’s brother, Marvin — who could no longer endure the routine — took his father’s tattered garments and buried them in a nearby field.

Even then, Mrs. Cannon refused to let go. She searched the ground near her home, digging in various spots in a fruitless effort to recover the clothes.

Then Sue told me about the infamous “bleeding sidewalk.”

Sue Hill’s father, Claude Canon, was killed on a Honea Path sidewalk across the street from the Chiquola Mill’s main entrance on Sept. 6, 1934.

After being shot three times in the back and twice in the hand, he bled profusely, leaving an immense blood stain in the concrete.

Over time, Sue told me, the stain faded and was barely visible — except when the sidewalk was wet. “When it rained the blood stain would come back a dark, copper-looking color. A lot of people came to look at the ‘bleeding sidewalk’ when it rained. The neighbors complained, but the mill wouldn’t do anything.”

Then, about eight years after the shooting, the two sections of stained concrete were quietly removed. Honea Path’s legendary “bleeding sidewalk” was suddenly no more.

It didn’t matter to Iona Cannon, who, after her husband’s killing, never set foot on that sidewalk again. “We had no car and walked everywhere. Whenever we went into town, mom refused to use that sidewalk,” Sue said.

“She would take us a back way behind the mill through the weeds and we’d cross the railroad tracks to get into town. Only when I was grown did I understand that she didn’t want to walk where daddy was killed.”

Even with Iona’s mill job, the family faced years of poverty and near starvation. “I saw mom diluting a can of Carnation milk with water to make cornbread to feed six children,” Sue said, unable to hold back the tears. “It must have been hard for her knowing we were going hungry.”

At this point, Sue began to sob. Crying has always unnerved me. I felt guilt for making her tell this story. Should I leave? No, I thought, I’ll just wait.

We sat quietly. Time froze. It seemed like hours went by. When Sue recovered, I asked if she felt like going on. Yes, she said. Her mother would want this story told.

And it was only because I had apologized for the actions of my grandfather, she said, that she decided to see me at all. No one else from the side of the mill’s management had ever expressed remorse. Not in more than 60 years. She was determined to go on.

Composed for the moment, the story continued.

On rare occasions, there was unexpected help. Iona would hear a knock on the front door. When she answered, no one would be there. On the porch, however, she’d find several bags of groceries. Though the family never found out who left the food, Iona suspected it was the man witnesses said shot her husband.

“There had to be some sleepless nights for these people,” Sue said. “If there weren’t, then they didn’t have a conscience. I don’t know how these people that did the shooting — for jobs or money or whatever — lived with themselves.

“They shot people whose kids went to the same school with their kids. They shared the same benches in church with the family members of the ones they killed. They watched as the families of these workers nearly starved, living on beans and fat meat or whatever they could find. I think many of them suffered for it the rest of their lives.”

About four years after the Chiquola violence, Tom Stallcup, one of the deputized workers who shot at strikers from a mill window, visited Mrs. Cannon.

Stallcup told the widow he was ashamed of his role in the shooting and asked her for forgiveness. “He told her he couldn’t live right until he made it right with her,” Sue said.

Did Stallcup, I asked, tell Mrs. Cannon who gave the order to fire at the workers? Yes, Sue said, her mother had asked that very question.

“Dan Beacham,” Stallcup had answered. Not only did Dan Beacham give the order for the men to shoot, Stallcup said, but the mill superintendent told the deputized gunmen to kill every striker they could, no matter who it might be.

“Mr. Stallcup seemed to have a lot of trouble with this through the years,” Sue said.

Iona Cannon died at age sixty-four, never discussing the events at the mill outside of her own home.

“Some days she’d talk about it. Other days she wouldn’t. She never got over my father. Never,” Sue said. “But I never saw her show any hate…not one word against them.”

Sue Hill’s compelling story is part of my book, Whitewash: A Southern Journey through Music, Mayhem and Murder.

Sue Hill

Claude Cannon

Bleeding Sidewalk today