Deception of Big Tobacco

    A thunderous clap assaulted us as Jack’s hand slammed into the conference table, reverberating around the room. Jack was a sight to behold at a tall 6’3, his face contorted in a frustrated scowl, his eyes darted at the six other men and women around the table.“Damnit people! We’re selling cigarettes not atomic weapons! These studies are scaring the hell out of people and I need you to deal with this now!” Jack demanded.“Betty!” he shouted as he pointed in the direction of a plump and sweating women seated on the other end of the table, “get me a new slogan! We want something snappy and new! Stay away from doctors or scientific mumbo jumbo, our customers shouldn’t be reminded of that horseshit!” Jack’s whole face tensed and veiny as he assaulted betty with instructions, saliva blasting from his mouth, his chin violently attacking the air as he shouted.

“Bill!” he shouted, changing the direction of his expletive filled rant to a middle aged grey haired man sitting directly to Jack’s left who appeared to be avoiding his gaze, “Where in the hell is our new filtered line! You told me it would be in full production in six months and its been eight!” Jack paused for his chest to rise again and fill with oxygen, his lungs heavy from chain smoking, while Bill’s eyes darted around and his mouth stuttered for a retort. Before he could respond, Jack started his tirade again, his face drawing closer to Bill’s with every word. “I don’t want any of your excuses Bill, I can get anyone off the street to do your job for pennies on the hour, get it done by the end of the week or your ass is fired!” he demanded, spittle spraying Bill’s wrinkled face. Jack straightened up again and gestured his arm around the table bluntly stating, “Now get out of my site all of you! This is the easiest sales job on the fucking planet, they start and can’t stop, just do your goddamn jobs.” The conference room emptied as if it had just been struck by gunfire, every senior employee escaping Jack’s wrath.

Jack’s hand ruffled at his neck, returning his tie to its neat original state, as he diverted his attention out the nearby window surveying the city. His eyes slowly wrapped their way along the horizon of the freeways surrounding the building. “This aint over Luther,” he murmured, “I ain’t giving up so easy, you want a war on your hands, you got one. No surgeon general and scientific research is going to ruin my company”

A loud noise coincided with a bright green flash behind Jack, forcing him to avert his eyes and clasp his ears. He whipped around as the acrid smell of burning fabric rushed to his nostrils, his eyes searching for the source of this. In front of him lay a two shimmering figures which had not been present a second ago. Both figures were grainy and almost digital in nature, not truly in the room with Jack. The one to Jack’s left a tall latino man dressed in a vest suit, looking at Jack in amazement. The figure to Jack’s right was a shorter women attired in a blouse and slacks, with a similar expression of astonishment.

“Who...What…..The hell are you!!” Jack sputtered at the ghostly figures before him. The man responded in a visceral distorted voice,

“We are from the Institute of Tobacco History.” The woman then cut in adding onto his statement,

”I can’t believe we finally get to meet the famous Jack Limbert, practical savior of humanity!” Jack’s eyebrows furrowed as he questioned,

“what in the hell are you talking about you ghastly demons!” The man snorted and retorted,

“we are no demons, simply travelers attempting to experience a bit of history!” Jack’s voice became exasperated,

“what the hell are you talking about, who are you people and what in the hell is the Institute of Tobacco this and that.” The man was taken aback but his shimmering image’s eyebrows raised as he responded,

“sorry, we were just really caught up in the moment. I am Andreas and this is Clarisse, we are from the Institute of Tobacco History in Boston. We are from the year 2055 and wanted to be in the company of the great Monbira CEO, Jack Limbert!”

Shaking his head, Jack sat back against the wall, sliding until he hit the ground, looking at the visceral figures before him. ¨Assuming you glittery ghost are giving me accurate information, why the hell am I so important?¨ Jack questioned. Clarisse cut in announcing,

¨you and you alone were able to sway the public to smoke again, saving millions of lives every year. Without you, our civilization would have died out long ago!” Jack furrowed his brows,

“so, the scientific studies were bunkus? Cigarettes don't really cause cancer?” Clarisse and Andreas both chortled simultaneously, their images distorting with the tempo of their laughter.

¨No, no, no,¨ Andreas responded,¨of course they cause cancer, emphysema, tons of other effects that can kill you.” Clarisse once again cut in to clarify, her face beaming as she stated,

¨but all of those effects can now be cured and even with the effects, smoking is far better than the alternative.¨ Jack, still confused, inquired,

¨what do you mean by that exactly?¨ Andreas walked, or more accurately glided, towards Jack, causing Jack to stiffen slightly.

¨In the last 20th century and early 21st century, an epidemic gripped larger and larger portions of the population of the world, obesity. Billions of people became fat and obese, cutting decades off their lives, costing trillions in healthcare and drastically lowered workplace productivity.¨ Clarisse continued, ¨for you see, once everyone quit smoking, they stopped getting nicotine, which is a stimulant and suppresses hunger.¨ Jack nodded his head,

¨so you’re saying that everyone got fat and started dying because they stopped smoking?¨

¨Yep!” Andreas responded,¨however, thanks to our visit right now, you are able to sway the public with this knowledge, and everyone is able to continue smoking!¨

¨Okay so let me get this straight,” Jack stated slowly as he raised from the ground wiping his dripping brow with his handkerchief. ¨You want me to spread the word so people keep smoking?¨ Jack stated.

¨Thats correct,” Clarisse responded, ¨you have a science division, get them to study up on the effects of nicotine on the body in relation to obesity, compare negative effects of smoking to obesity, and show the public and government that smoking is net positive in comparison.¨

¨OK but what about...¨ and before Jack could finish his statement, the figures dispelled into the air, a ghostly dissipating cloud of dust.

Jack once again turned and faced out the window and slowly his face formed into a smirk. ¨How about that Luther? Hope you’re still feeling smug about that cigarette cancer link. When the public learns about this, you’re history,¨ Jack uttered towards the window. Jack’s hands probed his trouser pocket, withdrawing a lighter and pack of Monbiro reds. His right hand expertly extracted a cigarette and placed it between his lips, while his left fluidly lit it. His chest raised, held, and fell, his mouth releasing a cloud of obesity curing smoke.

“All units, halt at once!” An authoritative voice commanded.

“Damn it,” Lieutenant Collier, an M4 Sherman tank commander exclaimed, “Don’t worry boys, I’m sure it’s probably just Patton inspecting the whole damn column again. Some idiot must’ve left his sand hood up.” Collier’s bravado was a bluff to cover his nervousness as he signaled his second in command to make sure that theirs was down.

Collier’s driver, McGregor shouted, “What the hell are we doing? Fredendall, didn’t have us babying the idiots while he was in command. This ‘Patton’ asshole has all of us stop for ‘em, even if we’re just fine.” As McGregor finished saying that, the tank crew could already hear laughter as another squad had their hood shut by Patton himself.

Ammo loader; Gibb’s shook his head as and pointed out to McGregor,“You complain about checking sand hoods but not about the uniform enforcement? You need to get your priorities straight, McGregor.”  

McGregor shrugged and said, “I look stylish, I ain't complainin’.”

The tank crew of Hurricane sat in silence for a few more moments before the order to move out came. As McGregor once more took the controls, an explosion of sand erupted next to the Hurricane’s right track. Before Collier could order any response, his wordless thoughts were shattered by a torrent of incoming enemy fire. Hurricane rattled and bolts shook loose as shells bounced off its hull. The tank Herald of America erupted into flames as German gunners opened fire. The Herald burst open as more German shells found their mark and hit volatile ammunition.

“God damn those kraut bastards,” Collier snarled like an enraged animal. “Tony, hit that fucking tank! Gibbs, get us out of here.” Collier ordered. Tank gunner Antonio “Tony” Valenti nodded as he swiftly rotated the turret to where the German tank had last been spotted. McGregor cursed as the tank stalled on him, “Shit! Sir! I can’t get the tank to move!”

Collier shouted in frustration,  “Damn it McGregor! You get this tank moving or we are going to die here! You hear me, boy?”

McGregor made a grunt of acknowledgment, too busy coaxing the Hurricane to life. With a sound of grinding gears and protesting metal, the Hurricane started once more. Before long, it rumbled across the last of the beach until it made it on to Sicily’s rough ground. The Hurricane was soon joined by other elements of the Third Army as the rest of the column sprang to life to counter the German assault. A few supply trucks were immediately destroyed in their attempts to escape the ambush but most were able to move into better positions covered by friendly armor. Hellfire let loose like its namesake would suggest with a heavy 76mm gun and left an acrid smell of gunpowder in the lingering air. Hurricane shuddered as its 75mm gun fired and dropped smoking shells within its depths. Lieutenant Collier shouted orders that were only heard by the men of Hurricane, the fighting drowning out any other noise. Despite the fierce resistance from the tanks and infantrymen, more and more of the column began to bleed from losses. Some how, over the chaos of war, Collier began to hear a commanding voice and scanned through his periscope to see an injured man providing covering fire for several prone figures. As Collier began to order their rescue, an armored jeep appeared over a desolate, crater marked hill and laid down heavy suppressive fire from a 30 cal. mounted on the back. A figure hopped off and started helping the men aboard as he quickly fired off shots from his hand gun. Collier squinted and could almost make out the figure.

“That son-of-a-bitch Patton, I can’t believe it,” Collier said with bated breath, “he’s actually here on the front.” Though Collier could not see it, he felt the puzzled looks of the men of the Hurricane as they processed what Collier just described. All the while, the Hurricane advanced closer to Patton to the point where the tank crew could hear him despite the clattering of the machine.

Patton’s voice vehemently yelled out, “Are you yellow pansies dead or are you going to get your asses in motion and send ‘em to hell!?!” The anger and power from his voice broke them from their light stupor, then, Collier opened his hatch and responded with, “Sir, we are ready to bring the storm. Patton let loose a savage grin. “Good, gather up the rest of H company and prepare for our counter attack.” Without another glance, Patton went back to his jeep and speed off to talk to other squads. Inspired by the Patton, Collier armed the 50 cal. mounted on Hurricane and unleashed a storm of bullets upon a light German vehicle. The light armor did little to stop the 50 caliber bullets from inflicting damage, ripping holes, twisting metal, and shredding through the armor.   

After the rest of the column rallied,  they seemingly drove off the Germans. In actuality, the German commander’s mission was to disrupt the column, and with their objective done, the Germans  made a withdraw, disappearing into the desert. Once dust had settled, Collier climbed down from the 50 cal. his arms numb from the recoil. A second afterwards, the rest of his crew emerged from Hurricane and surveyed the merciless sands. After taking in the measure of the area, each man felt sorrow as they looked upon the broken forms of the Huntsmen, Heroic Defiance, Headsmen, and Hawk. Yet, in turn, it was good to see the battered, yet still standing forms of Hellfire, Hitman, Haunt of the Desert, and Honor. Collier looked to the supply trucks, seeing the weary and tired forms of the infantrymen perk up when Patton approached. Instead of some harsh, foul language being thrown at them, words of encouragement and praise for courage were instilled in their place.

“Men, today you embodied true American patriots! I am proud to have seen you push back those kraut bastards. Those-sons-of-bitches thought they could get us while we were correcting some fuck ups, you proved them wrong. You obeyed my orders flawlessly.”

His gathered men began to cheer as Patton took a moment to pause. He began again, “Alright, alright, shut up and quiet down! Now, we are going to find that Nazi commander and kill those kraut bastards! It’s our turn to get catch ‘em with their pants down. Now move out!” Patton pointed and a few of the command staff began to share the orders. Lieutenant Collier looked to his men as they scrambled on board Hurricane, like ants crawling into an ant hill. Collier took his place in Hurricane and barked his orders as the tank went on the prowl once more.  

Devolution of Rap

As rap music has ventured forth as a genre, it has changed and evolved in different ways due to different reasons.Rap music is a subculture of Hip-Hop and is generally accredited to have begun in the early 1970s by Afrika Bambaataa and the Zulu Nation. Bambaataa, a DJ (Disc Jockey) in the Bronx began Hip-Hop with tagging, breakdancing and the clothing. In 1978, two deejays began scratching records and having MC’s (Masters of Ceremonies) compliment their skills as deejays. Emcees began to have showcases by rhyming at the events over the beats being scratched by the deejays. As time progressed, rap became an art form dedicated to informing people about the issues plaguing the ghettos of America. As it become commercialized, “gangsta rap” took the scene to provide more in depth commentary on drug dealing, prostitution and more. Once it became popular music, labels and companies began finding ways to exploit rap music in order to gain more profits. Rap music began in order to bring awareness to crime, prostitution, and class struggles in the ghetto. But due to commercialization it shifted away from gangsta rap and to the glamours of being rich and successful.

As with in any group, hip-hop and rap had a beginning out of necessity. Hip-Hop culture began in 1973 when Bambaataa renamed his Black Spades group the Universal Zulu Nation with the goal of the group being, ¨peace, love, unity so that people could get away from the negativity plaguing the streets¨ (Jonas). The streets that Bambaataa was referring to were the ghetto streets of the Bronx and the negativity he spoke of was the crime and struggles the poorer class had to endure. Though it was DJ Herc (also of the Bronx) who noticed the upbeat vibes in dance songs associated with the mixing and scratching of records. The scratches and breaks created a variation of dancing, referred to as breakdancing. Emcees were people who would compliment the DJ’s for their abilities to mix, break, and scratch records though as time went on, they began spoken word over the beats which eventually lead to rapping. 1979 began the mainstream push for rap music when the Sugarhill Gang released their song “Rappers Delight”, a nearly fifteen minute song, that began to start gaining radio play. A song that had no social or political commentary, but rather a song that was pure rapping was the first real rap hit.

The first socially aware rap song was “The Message” (1982) by Grandmaster Flash (Joseph Saddler) and the Furious Five which depicted the ghettos of America from his personal experiences. Flash begins rapping by stating,

“Broken glass everywhere/People pissing on the stairs, you know they just don't care/I can't take the smell, can't take the noise/Got no money to move out, I guess I got no choice/Rats in the front room, roaches in the back/Junkies in the alley with a baseball bat I tried to get away but I couldn't get far/’Cause a man with a tow truck repossessed my car” (Saddler).

With the portrayal of the ghetto Flash gave, the song became a hit (reaching 62 on the Billboard) and people were beginning to understand the message about the plights of the ghettos. The song mainly had popularity with those who were experiencing the life Flash depicted. Thus, others in different areas of the country began to take rap on as a form of music to perform themselves.

Rap music slowly left its roots and as time went on , new forms of rap music began to sprout from different areas of the country. The East Coast rap scene began to gain notoriety in 1986, a year after West Coast, and by 1987 all coasts were represented by rap artists and their own distinct styles. One of the most popular was “gangsta rap”. N.W.A’s album Straight Outta Compton which included the song “Fuck tha Police,” was an anti-police song ridiculing the LAPD. After the song, the FBI warned the N.W.A for their verbal assault of the police force. Cheryl Keyes, a UCLA professor of Ethnomusicology, quotes former FBI member Broduer when writing the quote that stated, “‘California Congressman Don Edwards, a former FBI officer himself, contacted the FBI, objecting to its letter to N.W.A calling it a form of censorship. (Broduer 1995: 55)” (Keyes 94). The FBI revoked their warning to the N.W.A and the revocation helped  rap music continue the direction it would go because the rappers continued to use their freedom of speech in their music, though it didn’t stop the ridicule by others.

Gangster rap would face more ridicule as time went on, not just from police forces, but their own labels that supported them as certain lyrics would later become censored on radios. Keyes states the beginning of “gangsta rap” as such, “The lyrics West Coasters introduced conveyed the gritty and dangerous aspects of hustling (drug dealing), gangbanging and drive by shootings and police repression. For this reason, the West Coast is credited with ushering a sub genre called ‘gangsta rap’.” (Page 90). The descriptions that the songs gave were very detailed with the inner-workings of ghettos, using harder beats to invoke the idea that the listener was around the danger. Gangster rap would begin the wars of the east versus the west coast rappers and the lyrics would continue to be ridiculed, not just by radios, police or people, but the labels that were supposed to support their artists as well.

Paris and Ice-T were forced to leave the record companies they were signed to because the lyrics they portrayed in their songs were explicit along with a police protest at Ice-T’s label because of his song “Cop Killa”. More songs on the album Ice-T was going to release were very controversial as Keyes looks into it, “Ice-T and black Marxist rapper Paris were pressured to leave their record companies...because of the criticism of their explicit lyrics....Paris’s ‘Bush Killa’, from the album Sleeping with the Enemy (1992), had appeared to describe the mock assassination of President Bush, alarming U.S national security forces.” (Keyes, 105). After the issues they faced, the artists who were leaving their labels found success with their albums. The people in the ghettos wanted rap music that was political, social, and portrayed how they felt about certain issues. They wanted songs for them so their stories and struggles could be known by others so they could perhaps get help. This would lead to more consciousness of the ghettos of America and lead to films about the ghettos.

Due to the fame rappers were acquiring by rapping their life stories, typically in the ghetto, films began to portray the scenes they spoke of in songs and interviews by filming the plights of the ghettos. Called upon by the filmmakers, rappers began helping with the films as Cheryl Keyes is inclined to show by writing,

“With the fast-growing sale of rap music to a large youth constituent, the film industry cashed in on hip-hop’s expressiveness, using numerous rap artists to add realism to its narratives… New jack films expose their audiences to urban street culture and aesthetics and the perils of ghetto life from the perspective of a young black protagonist much in the same manner as gangsta rap. Rap music is central to these films’ soundtracks because it establishes a sense of time and place, reinforces the raw texture of the ‘new jack’ aesthetic, and educates viewers about the realities of street life for the contemporary youth.” (Keyes, 118).

The rappers would make money for the soundtracks they provided to the films and with their face and name being a part of the film, the films sold more due to their presence. Their fame led to the stories of the ghetto being told using realism and other elements, such as documentaries, to show the stories of people who lived in the ghettos.

As hip-hop grew its’ fanbase and became more and more popular popular rappers began to do more to make more money, such as invest in starting their own companies, guest star in shows and more. As Keyes states about rappers in the 90s, they were being invited to more roles in music, films and more, “Rap artists were in demand in the 1990s as leads in other mediums, such as sitcoms and mainstream films, where they appeared alongside well-known Hollywood actors: LL Cool J in The Hard Way (1991) with Michael J. Fox; Queen Latifah in Living Out Loud (1998) with Holly Hunter and Danny Devito; Will Smith in the long-running sitcom “The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air” and in the blockbuster flicks Men in Black (1997) with Tommy Lee Jones…” (Keyes, 118). As the artists began to join these films and shows, they gained more fame and made more money than they had been in the music industry. Most of the rappers who went off to act and found success in doing so began to rap more about what they now had, as opposed to what they grew up with. Throughout the acting generation of rappers, they began to sell-out more often in acting and their own music.

The nineties proved that rap had staying power as rap music would continue to chart, and even chart higher than a lot of the other popular non-rap artists and bands. Boehlert states about the condition of rap at the time as such,

“Rolling Stone magazine reported that ‘rap album sales shot up thirty-two percent in just twelve months, breaking the 80 million-album-a-year mark for the first time. Superstar releases by Lauryn Hill, Jay-Z, and DMX (each of which outsold records from Pearl Jam, the Smashing Pumpkins, and Dave Matthews Band) proved that rap acts can not only score big first week gains but [maintain a presence in] the Top Ten for months at a time” (Boehlert 1999:15).

Outselling the other major artists and bands was a gateway towards the artists who would later become moguls and richer than music could have made them. The staying power of rap continued on towards the new millenium, with other forms becoming introspective with their own styles and artists pursuing other endeavors away from music.

Famous rappers such as Dr. Dre and Jay-Z pursued other endeavors and became richer than they had been with money. As Alan Light states about Jay-Z,“Perhaps no one represented the cultural triumph of hip-hop better than Jay-Z. As his career progressed, he went from performing artist to label president, head of a clothing line, club owner, and market consultant—along the way breaking Elvis Presley’s Billboard magazine record for the most number one albums by a solo artist.” (Light). Jay-Z, along with Dr. Dre, have become financial moguls and inspired other rappers to realize that if they have successful careers in rap, they can also start becoming moguls like them. The rappers turned mogul had made rappers begin bragging about what they had and could become.

An example of a rapper rapping about the glamours of being rich and famous is a song known as “Get Rich” by the rapper Tyga. In his song, he raps in the hook, “Uh, getting money is a habit/ Nice cars at the crib, gotta have it/ Uh, and this your song if you a bad bitch/ One time I’ma show you how to get rich.” (Tyga). This is one example of the braggadocio style of mainstream rap that has become a mainstay as Tyga raps in generalization of money, cars and having females who adore you because you’re rich and a rapper. The rappers inspired to become rich tend to rap about the glamours of being rich, once they get rich, they tend to stop trying. In rap videos about this lifestyle, rappers usually have subtle advertising of products as a form of commercialization in order to gain more money from an outside source.

In conclusion, rap music has had its story that continues on to this day however the music that made rap popular is less known today because of the emphasis on being rich and successful. It began with the idea of telling the stories of the ghetto and to get away from the negativity of the ghettos of America, became social and political, questioning authorities and the struggles of minorities in America, to becoming rich and famous as the goal. If rap wants to go back to being known for its political and social commentary, the listeners of rap need to make the push for those rappers to become popular in the mainstream, such as Kendrick Lamar or Lupe Fiasco,  or else the current rap music will stay longer and will slowly leave its’ roots.

Underground Crooklyn

I gazed at the pots and pans hanging over the stove and shook my head. My eyes darted to the right of me and I saw our cracked mirror. I saw myself: my giant red circular glasses, neon suspenders, multi-colored polo shirt and plaid pants that rode a bit high. Everytime I saw the bars on the window, heard the floorboards creak or looked across the street to see Mr.Barnes’window still broken from the robbery last month, it hurt my soul. The clock read 12:30 am as I dressed for the club. My sisters’ door was open, so I snuck into her room to give her a kiss on the forehead, then found my way to my mother’s room and smiled as I looked at her sleeping. It was the only time of any day she looked at peace. She always looked on the bright side even though she worked two jobs to support the family and had to use coupons to get most of the food we had. I only wanted the best for my family, they meant the world to me. Then I exited my house through the rotting wood door.

I swaggered down the greasy sidewalk towards a club out in the Bronx. There were two deejays at the event, Herc and Bambaataa; I hadn’t met them yet, however I’d been to a few of their showcasings back in ‘78. Both of them were cool cats from what I’d been told, Bambaataa was into the idea of forgetting negativity and enjoying yourself, while Herc was a genius on the turntables. I could see the cracks from ahead, uneven sidewalk with potholes. In front of me was the sign “The Village Underground” where the mini-venue was happening tonight.

    Ace was at the door smoking a cigarette and bobbing his head.

“Hey man, you’re here. Even though you walk like you’ve got a hanger in your shirt, glad to see you. Fresh, now uh- do me a solid and go bust some sick rhymes and show that guy Jerome what you’re made of, know what I’m saying? Also, like the bucket hat and chains.”

I replied,

“Cool beans, I’ll make sure to beat him, know what I’m saying?” The door was opened by Ace and I walked in to the sight of bright purple lights shining upon the stage, the dangling instruments by the bar and lots of people standing around, mingling about. Atop the stage was Bambaataa, the young DJ who had been dubbed the “grandfather of hip-hop”. He was a legend because he had started the Universal Zulu Nation and began the hip-hop movement. Bambaataa believed they could leave the negativity of the streets with the movement and the music associated with it. Together, he and Herc, the DJ who discovered scratching at a party, built the foundation that hip-hop stood upon. To my right was a small sign that read, “12-2 am Bambaataa, 2-4 am Herc.” Checking my watch I carry on my persons I saw the time was 1:30 am.

I looked around at the decor, the hanging lights on the ceiling, the bricks that looked like the cement was splattered onto them and the wall clock by the bar. Then the clock struck 2 am.

    “Everyone chill, this is DJ Herc here ready for some rhymes! I know it’s time for some great words by our emcees here tonight! I know we’ve got Legend, Harold, Jerome’s here and a few other rappers here! Let’s get pumped up!” Herc held the microphone out as people began to shout wanting for the rhymes to start, “right on, right on. I want to call Legend up here,” a long lanky man stepped up to the stage with a drink in his hand, “bring Harold here too,” an average young man walked up to the stage. He was wearing tons of jewelry and a few rings on his hands. “First battle: Harold v. Legend, ya’ll can start at the beginning of the scratch- Harold first.” DJ Herc scratched the disc and Harold gripped his mic tight in his left hand and began rapping. I honestly paid no attention to Legend or Harold because I was too focused on me being next; it was almost as if I could feel the chemicals flood my brain and slow time down as I stood awaiting my shot. Then, I heard the bombastic cheering from the crowd, then Herc, “Looks like you all are saying that Legend won this round. Sorry Harold. Yo, we need someone to go against my man Jerome right now! No wack rappers though, you know what I’m saying? Any takers?” I rose my hand and began to walk up the stage. “What do we call you mystery man?”

    I looked DJ Herc square in his face,

“I don’t use one.” He nodded politely then announced us both- me as a no named participant.

“Alright, Jerome, we’ll let you go first. You ready?” He nodded, then squeezed his mic, holding a firm grasp of it then waited for the beat. It dropped and Jerome began rhyming.

“I turn up the fire/ Yea, I’m up for hire/ So far out and my third eye/ Flip out; I don’t ever cry/ Can you dig it?/ You love my wit/ I don’t go get groovy/ I don’t care- yea, sue me/ Try to beat me- dream on/ Drop the mic when I’m gone.” Jerome dropped the mic after his last line, chuckling as the noise echoed throughout the club. Herc scratched the beat then everyone looked at me for my rebuttal.

“I mack on a brick house/ Nah, I don’t care for the blouse/ Maine, you just a big ‘ol chump/ These rhymes a young emcee/ Looking for a girl with Double D’s/ Looking to get out of this ghetto/ Guns blowing steam like a tea kettle/ So what you boogie/ You just a cookie/ Guess that’s why your rhymes crumble/ Eh...sorry to say I ain’t so humble.” At the moment I finished, I hear DJ Herc start announcing something but there’s a panic in the back. Five officers rushed in with a battering ram yelling aloud that they’re looking for people. I froze as I stared at the hysteria overcoming the club.

People were being yanked, pulled, dragged, stomped on and shoved as they patted down pockets looking for drugs. Terrified screams echoed, ringing through as the microphones caught the feedback. “Police, everyone remain calm! This is a raid!” Is what an officer with a megaphone kept belting out loud. “Remain calm! Brooklyn Police. We are here under the reports of suspicious and illegal activities. Remain calm!” The rest is a blur.

More officers swarmed in the club, trampling people and cuffing others as they went through, then I felt my arm get yanked back as an officer pulled me to him. “Empty your pockets!”

“What” I asked, not hearing him too well at the time. He body slammed me to the wood of the stage and began searching me. He pulled my wallet from my left pocket then looked at my I.D.

“Well, well, well, we’ve been looking for you for a long time.” The officer stated, then brought me back up, strengthening his grip on my arms as he pulled them behind my back. “You are under arrest for the possession of narcotics, rape and for the murders of the Harrison family last year, we found the bullet at the scene of the shooting and matched it to the ballistics of your gun.” I stopped listening as I was walked out of the club.

    I surveyed the shambles of the club as they escorted me. The curtains were tatters, the tables were broken or turned upside down, and people were on the ground in pain, with paramedics tending to their wounds. Walls were chipped and cracked and even the DJ equipment was battered around. DJ Herc and Bambaataa were standing up, staring at the ruins.

As they pulled me away in cuffs and through the shattered doors of the club, I asked, “Did I do that?”

"There's seating near the front, the concert begins at 5," he said. "There will be Mozart, Elvis and one of your choosing." He added, "Or just nice if Heaven exists, to know there's laughter. Just to hear God go, 'Two Jews walk into a bar..." ) -Robin Williams (ABC News)
 

“Woah. Where am I?” Robin turned to see two huge gates made of gold and brass before him. Before he had time to put it all together, a bright light suddenly blinded Williams, forcing him to turn away with closed eyes. Moments later the bright light disappeared. He turned to see a figure standing before him.

“Holy mother of- God, is that you?”

“Hello Robin, we have been expecting you.”

Robin tilted his head and raised his eyebrows.“Expecting? No, uh I’m not sure I was ready for this, God. I didn’t want to leave just yet.”

God chuckled to himself before he threw his hands up and exclaimed, “Well you know what they say”, death is nature’s way of saying, your table’s ready.”

Robin crossed his arms across his chest and yelled,“Hey! That’s my line!”

God replied with a smile and a hand gesture, announcing, “Come this way, there are some people waiting to see you.”

Robin put his hands to his hip.“What people?”

With a bit of a smirk, God exclaimed, “Well, not Mozart or Elvis... but I think you will like these people too.”

They walked together through the pearly gates. The two began to climb a small hill, with Robin taking in the surrounding view. Clouds were piled high around them, like large, soft pillows. They weren’t alone. Thousands hovered below him, faces bright and gleaming with joy. As Robin got close to the top, he began to make out a large shape that sat upon the top of the hill. He made it to the top and looked up to see the most beautifully sculpted, celestial building he had ever seen. Inside the set of double doors, the ceiling was a mass collection of a stars and a red carpet had been laid out which led to a second set of double doors. God gestured to the door and in a very soft voice told Robin, “Here we are. Good luck.” With that he turned and walked back outside. Robin’s eyes followed him out the door until there was nothing else to follow. He turned his gaze back to the double doors in front of him and took a big breath. He gripped the cold knob with a shaking hand and pushed open the door.

A booming voices called out,  “Please welcome to the Big Room making his heavenly debut, Robin Williams!” A huge ovation came over the crowd and it felt like it could go on forever. The auditorium was jam packed with past comedians, presidents, celebrities, and important figures. He shielded his eyes with his hand, as a spotlight found Robin in the back of the room. A huge smile came across his face and he forgot the fear that overwhelmed him moments ago as his stage persona took hold. He began to run towards the stage striking as many poses as he could come up with. Heart pounding and breathing heavy, he looked out at the enormous crowds before him, as he made his way up the steps of the stage.

Shouting to the crowd before him he exclaimed, “Oh my! Please, everyone, stop hovering and take your seats. Man, this is amazing! It’s like Woodstock with wings!” He turned, “Toto, I don’t think we are in Kansas anymore!” The crowd was hooked! and so was Robin. He continued, “This is crazy! All you people with your halos, and your wing thingies. Who is that sitting up in the balcony? President Abraham Lincoln? Well I’ll be.. Abe! Hey, Abe, wanna know how Our American Cousin ends?” Lincoln and everyone else in the room doubled over laughing.

Robin made his way down the stairs and through the crowd of people, smiling and shaking hands with John Belushi, Gilda Radner, and George Carlin. A hand is placed on Williams shoulder and a Maude Frickert voice exclaimed, “Guess who baby boy?” Robin’s eyes lit up as he tilted his head to the side. He questioned, “Maude?” He turned and embraced Jonathan Winters.

“Oh Jonathan, you really are the first person I wanted to see. I have missed you so much.”

“It is good to see you too Mork” They exchanged laughs. “Come! Take a seat with your old pal.” Jonathan gestured to a couple of seats in the back of the auditorium.

They sat in chairs opposite of each other. The chairs were tall and black, like directors chairs. Robin climbs up and throws his hands back, resting them behind his head. Jonathan sat down and leaned over, putting his hand on Robins knee.

“So man.. You decided to kill yourself ?”

“You were manic depressive!”

Jonathan laughed. “At least I didn’t go and kill myself over it! Besides, weren't we all?” They both had uncontrollable laughter. Jonathan continued, “Besides, as I told the reporter, I needed that pain — whatever it was — to call upon it from time to time, no matter how bad it was.”

Robin appeared shocked. “You were a wealth of creativity! You didn’t need to draw from pain. When I first saw you with Jack Paar on “The Tonight Show”, my dad and I lost it. You were amazing!”

Jonathan laughed and replied, “That was a great one. But-”

Robin cut him off and continued on in a southern accent, “Hey, Who are you?”

“Why sir, I’m a great white hunter,” Jonathan exclaimed in a drained, southern voice. “I hunt mainly squirrels.”

Robin sat up straight and inquired,“How do you do that?”

“I aim for- Robin you are missing the point of this talk. You-”

Robin cut him off once more and said,“Hey Winters, A man walks into a doctors office and tells the doctor he’s depressed. Doctor says, I know what to do. Robin Williams has got a show tonight. Go and see it. The man looks at the doctor and says, I can not! I am Ro-”

“Now where have I heard that one before? Oh wait, EVERYWHERE. Robin, Focus! We all get depressed. I didn’t go kill myself over it though, now did I?”

“Ha! True I knew you were frail Maude, but I figured you would last longer.”

“Robin...”

Robin looked down. “Alright, Alright! I’m not sure myself what went wrong. I had three beautiful children, and a wife who loved me. And I loved them... But I had just been diagnosed with early stages of Parkinson's. It felt like an added burden to my life. I was sober, so I struggled with depression, anxiety, and the newfound disease head on. I was taking a boat load of medications. I just.. I don’t know what went wrong!”

“Things just got real bad, real fast, didn’t they?”

“I just don’t know what to do...”

“Robin, you must come to terms with the idea that heaven is your new home. Look around! Everyone here would love to watch you perform!”

“Well Pops, maybe I don’t want to be here just yet!”

“You already kicked the bucket Robin! It’s too late!”

“Why I oughta-”

“Robin?” A voice is heard directly behind Robin’s chair. He turned to come face to face with the one and only, Robert Fitzgerald Williams.

“Dad?” Robin stood and wrapped his arms around his father, squeezing him tight.

“Hello, son. It is good to see you.”

“I don’t feel like I should be here. What about Zelda, Zackery, and Cody?”

“They will get through it Robin. You must come to terms with your death.”

Jonathan stood and put his hand on Robin’s shoulder and said,

“We had a good run together didn’t we friend?”

“Yeah, we definitely did.”

Robin Williams smiled. He wrapped his arms around the shoulders of Jonathan and his father and said, “Come friends, the show must go on!”

Rough Draft of Historical Fiction

Joshua Quiroz

    My name is Guillermo Francisco Hernandez, and I’m here to tell you the story of Mi General. It was an honor to fight beside Zapata, I think if it wasn’t for him our cause would never have been considered. Anyways I’ll go back to the story. It was the middle of March in 1919 and I had began to notice changes in the efforts of the men, the revolution was coming to a “close”. We have been trying to get our message through for 9 years and mi general has begun to get frustrated, and restless. I notice he is always thinking in his quarters.I would try to keep him calm and consult current situations, but instead he would become more stubborn and not listen to anyone. Sometimes it’s always better for someone to work out themselves rather than accepting help from people around.

    By the end of March we have lost many of the men, not through fighting but by resignation. They think the revolution is over, that there is no need for fighting. I think different, like Mi General I won’t stop until I see the government put our cause into a law. Zapata has made so much sacrifice into this cause and to see the people just leave because they believed the person in power right now is a sign of disrespect to me. They obviously forgot about Madero, Huerta and the other political people that said yes to reforms but never really cared for them once in power, still that’s just me I must show respect and know my rank.

    The other day our General was given a letter from one of our men, stating that it’s by Colonel Jesus Guardado. Zapata read the letter very pleased knowing that Guardado had recently changed to our cause. I can see in his eyes, he had a plan to go along with this new ally. As he announced the recent situation to the whole group out of nowhere we hear a voice of familiarity.

“After the people we helped get into the presidency, you still fall for these mere letters of alliance” Eufemio said.

“Hermano? I thought you were killed in the battle for Eastern Morelos” Zapata replied.

“I thought so too, but thankfully I was able to flee and heal myself somewhere safe, where los militares didn’t know.”

“We must discuss later, but why don’t you agree with this recent ally”

“Because he is a military personnel”

“And?”

“Every person who has been in the military that we have aided has backstabbed us, or played us out and then we end up in this situation, going from liberation army to a rebel group.”

“So what is it that you suggest Eufemio, we run low on supplies, we are losing men, we can’t keep running like this.”

“Figure out the terms with him and see if you don’t notice any trick in the whole alliance.”

“Fine I will send him a letter for the conditions of this alliance.”

    Just like that the brothers have been reunited, it gave me a sense of confidence knowing we had the best generals of the time in agreement without getting into a huge argument. The next day Zapata sent the letter to Guardado with one of his messengers. From then on we waited for the response of colonel Guardado. As much as Zapata seemed pleased with the new alliance, I noticed something is bothering my general, like if he has seen this situation before, and the outcome seems to bother him.

    On the day we waited for the arrival of the messenger we had sent out, I asked my general if we could talk in private. “ What is going on Guillermo?” he asked

“Nothing of great urgency my general, but may I ask you a question.” I replied

“Sure what is it that you need.”

“What did you write to Guardado.”

“Why do you wish to know?”

“Well sir with all do respect I notice something troubles you.”

“And?”

“Well I was wondering what is it that is bothering you.”

“My brother is right, the government has always outplayed me when I need their alliance, they sell me out, so for this new alliance I asked him to steal some weapons and ammunition from the armory and bring it to someplace where we can exchange and receive the weapons.”

“I see my general.”

    As we finished our talk the messenger came back with the letter. Zapata read it and looked even more worried. He explains to us all that Guardado has weapons and wants to meet our general alone in Chinameca on April 9th. We all began to wonder what would the General do. “Sir this sounds like a trap, he wants you and you only” I said.

“I know, what shall I do” he replied.

“Send someone else in your place” His brother replied

“I’m not a coward Eufemio, surely you must know this” Emiliano replied.

“Listen to me, now’s not the time to be cocky they want you alone, that’s the sign for death assured, just send someone who looks like you and if he dies they will come to Cuatla to collect your bounty”

“I’ll think about it”

    I can tell that my General felt like his pride was insulted by his own brother, in my opinion that’s actually effective, we could wait for them in Cuautla and kill them off, showing a lesson to the government that we shouldn’t be taken lightly. Unfortunately Eufemio looked like his brother wasn’t going to move from his standpoint.

    The day of the meeting had come, he was getting ready to go. It wasn’t until one of the men came running to Zapata panting and yelling, “Mi General your brother he is gone, he left you this sir” and he handed him a letter. The letter said, “I know you weren’t going to move from your view, so I will save your life, take care remember how this ends, sincerely Eufemio”

    Reading the letter you can see our general was full of emotions from his face, mainly anger and sadness. He eventually composed himself and called every man to arms, for we were heading to Cuautla to wait for the government. Surely enough while we waited for an hour there a small group of military soldiers come through Cuautla with a dead body on horse, one of them yelling, “We have killed Emiliano Zapata, and we are here to collect the bounty for his head.”

    Right after Emiliano heard those words he told all of us who were hiding around the entrance of the town to open fire on these traitors and soon after all you heard was gunshots, grunting, and bodies falling. We had killed the whole group, as men collected their weapons and ammunition Emiliano was with his brother crying and breaking down, knowing his brother committed the ultimate sacrifice for his life. He went to the top of the hill in the town and buried his brother there. From there on out Zapata let us all know that we can go home, for he would no longer fight a force that will never be on his side, and with that he parted his own way. We never knew what became of our beloved General.  

Delilah Nichols

The Diary of Lee Krasner

Spring 1942

I couldn’t stand the fact that I didn’t know the name Jackson Pollock. Simply could not stand it. I knew all the artists in New York, and here was one just two blocks down of me and I didn’t know a thing. I rushed to his studio just as soon as I found out he was also invited to exhibit in the McMillen Gallery, in January.

Sandy opened the door. He was white and bald, wearing only a green collared shirt and slightly painted jeans. A total artist. The apartment was small with the front door opening directly into the kitchen table. The place what built up of two hallways branching out on either side and a kitchen and living space in the middle. I decided to let myself onto the linoleum and past Sandy through the canvas covered walls. I followed the smell of acrylic to a shut door on the side of the hallway. Sandy shouted something like, “Good luck getting in there,” as if it wasn’t a place most people were allowed to go.

I’ve never been one to follow rules of anything, so I knocked. I just kept knocking until the door was opened. He wasn’t a large man, I figure less than 6’ but he didn’t act small. He carried himself like a man. A strong man with strong hands. I love his hands. I don’t think I ever saw more powerful hands. He looked upset, so before he could say anything I opened the door wider and started talking. I told who I was and made jokes about how we’re competition. He seemed to like my sense of humor. His careful smile told me he didn’t smile often. I took the opportunity to make my way around his studio.

The room was entirely constructed of wood. Dusty, dark, distraught floorboards and the wooden walls barely peeking through the piled paintings. His work was abstract and colorful, almost the same style of mine. But don’t let the world colorful fool you. Some were bold blues and blacks that made you feel his sorrow and anger. I loved a painter who used emotion. I could tell he painted from within. I asked him about it and he denied every piece of what I was inquiring. He kept quiet while I expressed my appreciation for painting after painting. I thought it was odd.

I came face to face with one canvas. He told me that it was the one he was thinking of putting in the gallery. Jackson almost complimented himself before vanishing back into wherever it is he goes. You can learn so much about someone when you’re in their space. He told me it wasn’t done. I wouldn’t hear it. I loved this painting. I told him not to ever touch a piece on it. But who knows if he’s going to listen to me or not. I really hope he does though.

He called this masterpiece, “Birth” and for some reason I already felt that’s what it was. I understood his art. It’s important that when someone makes sense to you that you keep them in your life. Everyone needs some clarity now and again.

The more I spent in this brilliant room the more passionate I became. I was furious at myself for never taking the time to seek out such a brilliant name as Jackson Pollock. I was lusting over this once stranger’s talent and passion.

I needed him to see my work. When I asked him to visit my studio, however, he didn’t seem excited. I know he has passion though. I see it in his work. I’m not sure he likes discussing his art though. Or maybe it’s art in general. Which I don’t understand because when someone is that great at something, his work deserves to be known. I will make his work known.

He kept refusing on seeing my studio. I kept thinking to myself, ‘how difficult is this guy going to be?’ I mean really. All I want him to do is take a stroll a couple blocks down and see a fellow abstract admirer’s work. I know what I do is good. Or else I wouldn’t be doing it. It’s as simple as that.

Winter 1942

    When I imagined moving in together, I pictured us working in our studios shouting down the hall to each other about our pictures or how we’re feeling. As romantic as I pictured it, it sure as hell isn’t starting off that way. Jackson never wakes before noon. I, a lover of mornings, wake before daybreak.

It’s really not as bad as I’m making it sound. I take this opportunity to work in my studio. The sun is just starting to rise over the buildings next to me. It doesn’t take me long at all to sketch my basic ideas on the canvas. If I can get enough paint on the canvas before Jackson wakes up I might let him in to see it. Me and Jackson had to come up with this schedule, for his sake. We only let each other in our studios maybe once a week in order to show what we are working on. I don’t feel like I give Jackson good enough critic. I don’t think anyone could. As he repeatedly tells me, he knows exactly who is when he is painting. So, how can I tell him what to paint when his response is he’s painting himself? He’s smart that way. Always knowing what to say in order to win the battle.

    He woke today around 12:30 in the afternoon. Coffee, eggs, and toast for him. Turkey sandwich and soda for me. He is so sluggish in  his “mornings.” I swear he’s in front of that damn cup of coffee for two hours. It infuriates me to see him sitting at the wobbling table, wasting his day.

    Everyday he surprises me. His studio doesn’t have electric lights, so he is only able to paint for a few hours. But what he paints in that time is nothing short of extraordinary. It seems like everyday he is painting a new piece, but he never seems to be done with the old one. Me, on the other hand, I cannot move on until I can admire my work as opposed to just look at it.

November 1945

    Has this year been a goddamn whirlwind or what. Our lives are better than ever before. We’re married and moved to the Hamptons and all! I knew from the moment I saw Jackson stripped down for who he was, a man so emotionally aware and excitable but without a devoted supporter or woman. I needed to be that for him. Because I wanted to be.

    We’re getting married at Marble Collegiate Church on 5th Avenue... Jackson’s idea. When he first proposed the idea, I wouldn’t have it. We are not religious, never been to church, I don’t even wear the color white. We’re was this crazy man getting all of his outrageous ideas. I swear some of the stuff that comes out of his mouth is just to mess with me. But, he wouldn’t shake the idea. He seemed to genuinely want this for us. I know that when something is genuine, it’s important to follow it. Plus, it made him so happy. And he did just move out to the Hamptons for me. So I did it.

    Our first house was terrible. I wasn’t happy and felt I single handedly made the worst decision of our lives. Jackson is best under this type of pressure. He is a problem solver, mostly because it’s hard for him to ever see anything as a problem. He found us another house and holy, is this house perfect.

    We have an attic and gigantic kitchen and from our backyard you can almost see Accabonac Creek. There is a rotting barn blocking the view though. Jackson promised me to move the barn, which he has and he made it his studio which means I have the attic to myself. We have replaced the dirt under where the barn used to be with a garden. He planted everything and I tend to it.

    I love the inspiration this home gives us. He has come up with a new style of painting that his admirers love. They’re calling it action painting. Jackson Pollock has graduated from painting from a tube. Now he uses liquid paints and splatters them amongst the canvas, creating not a picture at all. He is a genius. A Goddamn genius.

November 1950

    For the past two years Jackson has quit drinking. They have been lovely. We were forced to face our issues and get over them instead of running away. Usually he would leave and get himself drunk and I would lock myself in my mind only letting positive lies escape my mouth. Tonight was one of those nights.

    We had ten friends over for a late Thanksgiving get together. I was in the kitchen putting the roast beef on each plate, while Alice and Margaret were running back in forth, trying to set the table. Such good women.

    Jackson was outside freezing his poor ass off with Hans, filming his rise to stardom. I could understand why Jackson didn’t want to make the movie. He wasn’t one to speak highly of his own work in public or speak of the linguistics of art in general. But, he would do anything for a friend. His loyalty is one of the many things I love about him. He sure as hell is a devoted individual, something we have in common.
    Anyways, when they came inside, they were arguing over something. Maybe the weather. Maybe Jackson finally expressed his feelings on the movie. Or maybe Hans was being his normal controlling self, artists can be that way. I know. At first, you couldn’t tell who was mad at who. But then Jackson poured himself a drink.

    He brought it to the table and I would not have it. I shook my head at him. Whilst still managing to keep full eye contact, Jackson lifted his drink and took it to his mouth. I would not have it. I shouted across the table at him. I was a mess. I couldn’t understand what was so goddamn terrible that Jackson had to throw away the best two years of our lives for it.

    It was hard for me not to internally make it about myself. His drinking affected our marriage and we both knew it. When he made eye contact during that first sip, something inside of me just broke. I wouldn’t stay composed on the outside. I was shouting across the table. Airing all of the dirty laundry, that no one knew we had. I’m embarrassed of publicly shaming him like that. What man can feel like a man, when his own wife is trying to tear him down.

    He stood up just as quickly as he sat down. And he brought up with him his end of the table. I wasn’t even aware when Jackson threw the table until I already had a bowl full of potatoes on my lap and eleven plates of roast beef on my floor.

Summer 1965

    I look back on my relationship with Jackson fondly. Before me no one really knew the name Jackson Pollock. I gave him the support that allowed him to have confidence and willingness to explore. Action painting was Jackson and he was truly his art. He was eccentric and lively and so quick to jump to a conclusion or fight or solution for anything.

    The world knows how passionate he was about his art, but that’s all they really saw of Jackson. At home, I would see a man with so much passion even art was not a big enough outlet. He was always baking something sweet. Or out in the garden tending to our marigolds or morning glory’s. Or in the house telling me about his next great plan for himself. And I would be there right by his side to help him do it.

    I’ve grown past dwelling on his temper. But I want to touch on it so people know. Jackson wasn’t a violent man. Yes he wasn’t too careful with a wooden table or chair, but he never laid a finger on another human being. Even in his drunkest stupor he would always be first to back out of the bar fight, no matter who was egging him on.

For all of those pathetic people trying to make a profit off of calling his death a suicide, you can just shove that sorry story up where the sun don’t shine. I know my husband better than anyone else in this world and I know he could never do that to the girls in his car with him that night. It was a goddamn drunk driving accident. Ever heard of one before?

It was the hardest thing I ever had to go through and I have people going around my back saying I made him so unhappy, he had to kill himself? What is wrong with this world. It appalls me. Simply appalls me.

We were madly in love for the majority of our lives together and I believe we were still in love until the day he died. I know he loved me because he never left me. I wasn’t supporting him financially, but he knew I wasn’t a burden. He needed my love and support. With out me he was a sad lonely man, no matter who he surrounded himself with.

 Emiliano Zapata

Joshua Quiroz

     In 1910, Mexico began its revolution to overthrow the President/Dictator Porfirio Diaz who had been president for seven consecutive terms. The people of Mexico were lead by Francisco Ignacio Madero along with military generals Francisco (Pancho) Villa, and Emiliano Zapata. This civil war would last a decade due to constant power shifts even after Diaz was overthrown. This civil war would cause up to 2 million deaths both civilian and military. Although it was a tough campaign, Mexico would adopt the Mexican constitution in 1917 and a new era would begin for Mexico and its people. This revolution would probably never happen if it weren’t for the individuals who lead the people to overthrow their absolutism President Porfirio Diaz. One of the main leaders of the revolution was Emiliano Zapata. Known for being the leader of the southern liberation army, he helped his allies to overthrow and gain power of the nation throughout the revolution, all under one condition. The condition being that lands they conquered were given to the people who worked them for years. This condition would haunt Zapata as successive leaders turned their backs on him rather than respect his demands and agreements to which he had given his support in exchange for. This makes it hard to notice if Zapata actually achieved anything if the political injustice and powershifts never looked at reforms.

    Zapata joined the revolution siding with Francisco I. Madero seeing as how Madero was a way to promote reforms in the country. Although Zapata was cautious and still in doubt of Madero, he would no longer worry when Madero promised him to make reforms when he got into power. What got Zapata interested in siding with Madero was the 3rd point in Madero’s Plan de San Luis (Plan of San Luis) which stated, “The Constitution be respected, enclosing the principle of no re-election, which becomes the supreme law, valid for the election of president, vice presidents and governors until constitutional reforms are analyzed” (“se respetará la Constitución, adjuntando el principio de No Reelección, que se convierte en la ley suprema, valedera para las elecciones de presidente, vicepresidentes y gobernadores, hasta que se analicen las reformas constitucionales”) (Francisco Ignacio Madero). The point gave Zapata the idea of promoting reforms in the country, therefore agreeing to unite with Madero to overthrow military dictator Porfirio Diaz. On May 21st, 1911 Diaz signed the Treaty of Ciudad Juarez, stating that Diaz would step down and giving the power to Madero, and on May 31st, 1911 he was forced into exile and left for Spain where four years later would die in France. With Diaz overthrown Madero, leader of the people of Mexico was put into power as the intern president of the nation. As much as he promised for reforms, it was soon realized that he was very inexperienced and cunning, which lead to lose support. What the tip of the iceberg was when he promised to put social reforms in the nation and instead focused more on his personal agenda and appointed people of his interest for vice president, and governors. This caused Zapata to break ties with his alliance and in November 11th, 1911 Zapata gave his Plan de Ayala (Plan of Ayala) which stated, “Signed on November 11, 1911, the plan was justified on violations made by Francisco I. Madero's motto Effective Suffrage and No Re-election as imposed against the people's will to Mr. José María Pino Suárez as vice president and in the states, governors thereof, not withstanding the right of each jurisdiction to choose rulers” (“Firmado el 11 de noviembre de 1911, el plan se justificó en las violaciones hechas por Francisco I. Madero al lema Sufragio Efectivo y No Reelección, ya que puso en contra la voluntad del pueblo al señor José María Pino Suárez como vicepresidente y, en los estados, a los gobernadores de los mismos, no obstante la facultad de cada jurisdicción para elegir gobernantes”)(Emiliano Zapata). This plan was meant to show the disagreement the people had of Madero’s decisions when he was in power, and was an official declaration of war against Madero. It would also lead to a coup attempt to overthrow Madero from power with Pascual Orozco leading the coup and Zapata supporting his decision.

    Madero’s place in power was short lived when in February of 1913 General Victoriano Huerta ordered from Orozco, staged a coup d'etat which overthrew Madero and his politicians, eventually executing both Madero and Suarez while they tried to leave town. Speculation shows the soldier that killed both acted on Huerta’s own orders which lead the people to refer Madero as a revolutionary martyr instead of the president that didn’t listen to the people. Zapata noticed that Gen. Huerta was seeing no interest in reforms that Zapata was promoting. He sent a letter to Colonel Facundo Torres of the situation saying, “The government of Francisco I. Madero and José María Pino Suárez had been terminated, and Victoriano Huerta became interim president with a cabinet that was not conducive to the revolution in the South. You are recommended to refrain from receiving instructions from other foreign armies to the Revolution and comply with the provisions for its headquarters” (“el gobierno de Francisco I. Madero y José María Pino Suárez había terminado, y Victoriano Huerta quedó como presidente interino con un gabinete que no favorecía al la revolución del Sur. Te recomendó abstenerse de recibir instrucciones de otro ejércitos extraños a la Revolución y atenerse a lo dispuesto por su cuartel general”) (Emiliano Zapata). Zapata was already on the lookout of the new interim president seeing as how the newly appointed president didn't see any interest in changing or adding reforms in which Zapata agreed to join the revolution in the first place, it was only a matter of time until another power shift would emerge taking out General Victoriano Huerta and his group of politicians.

    Victoriano also shared a short lived spot in the “king’s chair” when a man by the name of Venustiano Carranza declared his Plan de Guadalupe (Plan of Guadalupe) on March 26th, 1913. The plan shows Carranza’s thoughts on the situation of Huerta being in power. The plan states, “In consideration that General Victoriano Huerta committed the crime of Treason to apprehend the President Madero and Vice President Pino Suarez, and his ministers, plus it came to the executive branch with the complacency of the legislative and judicial powers, a large group of chiefs and officers led by Jacinto B. Trevino and Lucio Blanco, issued a manifesto to the nation based on the following points …” (“Trás considerar que el general Victoriano Huerta cometió el delito de traición al aprehender al presidente Madero, y el vicepresidente Pino Suárez, así como sus ministros, además de que llegó al poder Ejecutivo con la complacencia de los poderes Legislativo y Judicial, un grupo numeroso de jefes y oficiales encabezado por Jacinto B. Treviño y Lucio Blanco, emitió un manifiesto a la nación basados a los siguientes puntos…”) (Venustiano Carranza). This declaration was a manifesto saying that Victoriano Huerta should have been removed from power for not answering to the people and instead doing things to his own accord, With it Carranza called everyone to bear arms and fight Huerta for what he had done. The supporters responded,  Zapata and other revolutionary leaders were among the supporters of Carranza. Huerta eventually stepped down and fled to Spain. Carranza would become the interim president of the nation forming a new power in place and by 1917 Mexico would adopt a Congressionally approved constitution for the nation and it all seemed that the revolution was coming to a close. Unfortunately it was time to close loose ends.

    In 1914 Zapata broke alliance with Carranza for not pushing reforms in his Plan de Guadalupe, but by 1916 Carranza was already in power and was gaining support from the peasants from promising the people a new constitution making Zapata lose support pushing his forces down south. Zapata began to be low on supplies and later that year Carranza sent out military personnel to kill Zapata. Zapata would eventually be killed in 1919 in Chinameca where he was supposed to receive supplies never seeing reforms being passed on his country and land that he fought and stood for. That same year a revolution would come into place against Carranza. For not respecting the people’s voice he too had become like many others before him, promising the people and never holding their word. Alvaro Obregon would issue a manifesto called the Plan de Agua Prieta a military leader would join after reading the manifesto stating, “This plan was written by General Álvaro Obregón , who spoke out against the president Venustiano Carranza and all authorities sympathetic to the president. The plan says it will not affect the Constitution of 1917 , before good , would respect the supreme law” (“este plan fue escrito por el general Álvaro Obregón, quien se manifestó en contra del preisdente Venustiano Carranza y de todas las autoridades que simpatizaran con el mandatario. El plan anuncía que no afectaría a la constitucíon politíca de 1917, antes buen, le respetaría como ley suprema”) (Alvaro Obregon). It meant that Carranza should step down along with his officials for not listening to the people. This would later lead to more fighting and on May 21st, 1920 Carranza was killed by Obregon’s agents and a new era would come into place.

    In 1917 Mexico adopted a constitution, it was the official end of the revolution, but with constant fighting peace didn’t come until 1920. Taking a decade to finish, Obregon would bring new reforms and the nation would show it’s new face to the world. Despite the realization of reforms that were brought by Obregon, Zapata wouldn’t live to see the reforms he pushed come to life after the many power shifts of Revolution. Instead of seeing reforms and change in the nation, Zapata saw broken promises, and cunning politicians backstabbing one another to gain power. He was assassinated by the same politician he helped gain power in 1919. The debate over whether Zapata really liberated the people of Mexico from injustice continues today, but  the reforms he wanted were eventually passed and put in effect.

Bibliography:

Madero, Ignacio Francisco. “Plan de San Luis”. Version 1. General Archive of the Nation:

Mexico, October 5, 1910. web. February 11, 2015. Francisco Ignacio Madero was a politician who ran against Porfirio Diaz for the presidency and was robbed from his win when Diaz had him jailed. Madero was liberated by peasants later on, but by then Diaz was already re-elected. So Madero created a manifesto to the nation to come to arms and unite to overthrow the dictator they had as president, he called this the Plan de San Luis.

Zapata, Emiliano. “Plan de Ayala”. Version 1. General Archive of the Nation: Mexico,

November 11, 1911. web. February 11, 2015. Emiliano Zapata was a campesino who

joined the revolution in an effort to promote reforms throughout the nation and country, but specifically for the state of Morelos. After joining Francisco Madero to overthrow the dictator during the time, he hoped that Madero would do changes in reforms like he promised, instead he turned his back on Zapata. This lead Zapata to make his Plan de Ayala which states that Madero had violated his promises in his manifesto and should be held responsible.

Zapata, Emiliano. “Letter to Colonel Facundo Torres”. Version 1. General Archive of the Nation:

Mexico, February 23, 1913. web. February 11, 2015. Zapata sent this letter to a colonel

during the revolution to notify him about the power change that occurred in that time

frame, It mainly notified him that the new president that took power wasn’t in the best

interest for the revolution cause down in the south and recommended the colonel to take

no orders from foreign armies, only from headquarters.

Carranza, Venustiano. “Plan de Guadalupe”. Version1. General Archive of the Nation: Mexico,

March 26, 1913. web. February 12, 2015. Venustiano Carranza was a military general

during the revolution who would become the president of Mexico for a couple months.

He issued this plan or manifesto, to denounce Victoriano Huerta who was president

during the time for failing to apprehend Madero and other politicians, and instead took

power for himself. This manifesto was a calling for everyone to unite and fight against

Huerta for he violated orders to apprehend the president before and instead he killed

them.

Obregon, Alvaro. “Plan de Agua Prieta”. Version 1. General Archive of the Nation: Mexico,

April 23, 1920. web. February 12, 2015. Alvaro Obregon was a military leader during the

revolution who would later became the first president to actually bring change to the

nation. Although the revolution ended in 1917 with a new constitution, fighting didn’t

stop until 1920, where this manifesto was issued to declare that whatever Carranza was

doing with the nation was wrong and that he should be removed from power, with the

benefit that the constitution wouldn’t be changed, rather respected in all supreme law.

With this document Alvaro would become president and begin to make changes.