Thursday, July 09, 2009

My Own Personal Sally Hemmings revelation...

I am a student of history, often wiling away days and weeks researching items that are of interest to me. I have been researching my paternal history for more than a decade now. Every now and again I unearth some new jewel which more than makes up for the years of bumping into the same six foot high, concrete wall that is common place in the search for AA ancestors.

There are many variations of McFadden - MacFadyn, McFadyn, McFaddin - and so one can be a McFadden on the 1890 census and then magically transform into a McFadyn on the 1900 census - depending who is doing the recording.

Anyway, it seems that most AA McFadden's are descendants from a clan of McFadden's in the Carolina's. I have never found one piece of evidence to link my family to that clan.

My great-grandfather, Isaac McFadden was born in Texas in in 1860. His death certificate states that his mother Lizzie was also born in Texas. The birthplace of his father, Mingo, is unknown.

There is an 1870 Census with a nine year old boy named Isaac McFadden. The census is for Beaumont Texas, a town practically owned by the wealthy cattle rancher, William Perry Herring McFaddin, who had come from Louisiana to Texas with his parents in 1823. He moved to the town of Beaumont in 1833.

Isaac's parents are listed as James and Milla, both born in Kentucky. But we know the inaccuracy of historical records. Especially where AA records are concerned. So Im going to finally give myself permission to believe that the little boy on that census is indeed my g-great grand daddy.

Anyway, there is quite a bit of documented history on WPH McFaddin and his offspring. In fact, the family mansion still stands and is a museum known as the McFaddin-Ward House.

During my research I stumbled on another Beaumont, Tx census that I found very interesting. Teh year is 1880 and it lists Martha McFaddin, as a 38 year old negro woman who was born in Arkansas. She is a laundress and the head of her household. Her status is single. She has five children:

Harriet McFaddin - age 17 - negro - born in Texas - father born in Louisiana (she is also a Laundress)

Eliza McFaddin - age 12 - negro - born in Texas - father born in Louisiana

Roxey McFaddin - age 10 - mulatto - born in Texas - father born in London

Bashaba McFaddin - age 8 - mulatto - born in Texas - father born in London

Dallas McFaddin - age 4 months - mulatto - born in Texas - father born in London

There are three black male boarders who work in the saw mill.


Interesting that the last three children retain the McFaddin name and not the name of their white father. And is it just me, or do you feel like Harriet was a kept woman in a fairly nice sized house?

What does Harriet have to do with my g-grandfather? I don't know yet, but I suspect that they are kin.

Back to WPH McFaddin - I found a picture of him ( I love the Internet!) and I immediately saw my father's face in his face - do you see it?









  • Bernice L. McFadden
  • Monday, July 06, 2009

    Do you Boo..

    In 11 days I will be sitting on a panel at the Harlem Book Fair entitled: Killing Me Softly - how publishing is killing the black book market.

    It's no secret that we will be discussing the fact that publishers are blatantly ignoring AA authors whose novels do not fall under the street, urban or erotica lit umbrellas.

    (Know one ever told me life was fair.)

    *shrugging shoulders*

    I'm sure that on July 18th the discussion will be a passionate one complete with finger wagging, finger pointing, slander slinging and wailing - and that's just from the audience! LOL

    *sigh*

    Some of these urban lit authors think that we literary authors are "hating" on them. Maybe some of us are. But what I think most of us are calling for is BALANCE - an equal share of the marketing dollars and shelf space.

    *hands thrown up in the air*

    Let's keep in mind that one genre could not exist without the other. It would be like trying to grow a flower without a seed.

    There would be no R&B, Hip-Hop and Pop, if not for Gospel & Soul.

    Get it?

    Nevertheless, aspiring urban, street and erotica authors - remain encouraged, and don't take our rants personally. It's not you we're upset with, its the industry and it's practices.


    So, Do you boo and don't let anybody deter you from reaching your manifest destiny. I know I'm not going to let anybody deter me from reaching mine.


    *peace sign*







  • Bernice L. McFadden
  • Monday, June 29, 2009

    12 Hours of Murphy's Law

    For me Friday June 26th will be a day that will always live in infamy. I'm still shocked that I survived it. I'm quite sure I don't ever - ever-ever-ever - want to experience another day like it.

    Friday I was due to head out to Austin, Texas to attend the Black Book Festival. I never made it there. Here's what happened:


    2:30PM - Still bleary eyed from crying my eyes out over the sudden death of MJ, I pop two extra strength Tylenols to beat back the migraine that was pulsing on the side of my head. I waited outside for my taxi to arrive. Three cars showed up at the same time and a screaming match between the drivers ensued. All three were Haitian so there was a lot of Kolan guete maman ou and Souse' Zozo being thrown around. Finally I climbed into the car with the man that seemed the less menacing.

    4:15PM - I boarded the Northwest flight bound for Memphis where I would then connect onto Austin. My last meal was at 12:30PM. I munched on my bag of nuts and dried fruit that I bought at Hudson News for a million dollars (not a million - but you know how ridiculously high things are at the airport) I told myself that I will get a proper meal in Memphis where I was due to have a 2 hour lay over. I was seated next to a young couple who were going to Texas to make wedding arrangements. They were so young that their mothers milk was still crusted in the corners of their mouths. Take off time was scheduled for 4:30PM.

    5:00PM - The captain announced that we were #40 in line for take-off.

    5:15PM - The captain announced that we were #40 for in line for take-off.

    5:30 - The captain announced that we were #40 for in line for take-off

    6:00PM - The captain announced that no flights were taking off due to the bad weather. There wasn't a cloud in the sky. My stomach began to grumble.

    6:15 - The couple next to me began to play fight. I gave them the classic black mother look that says: Don't let me take off my belt. They stopped playing, took out books and began to read.

    6:30PM - Black clouds approached from the East.

    6:PM - Fork lightening sliced through the clouds. I'm so hungry that although I do not eat meat, I think that I may have a steak when I get into Memphis. This thought troubles me and I realize that I am in the midst of PMS. I begin to search the bottom of my pocketbook for stray peanuts. I find two sunflower seeds and gobble them down.

    7:00PM - The wind kicks up, thunder booms and the rain finally begins to fall. Its obvious that I will not make my connecting flight. I call my sister and ask her to check and see if there are any more connections that night. There are none. And there are none the following day that will get me into Austin before my appearance. I consign myself to the fact that I will be over-nighting in Memphis and then coming back home. I tell myself I will make the best of it and treat myself to a nice hotel and a nice meal and a nice glass of wine. I try to remember the hotel my publisher always puts me in when I'm in Memphis, but the Tylenol has worn off and I'm so hungry that I feel faint. Food is all that comes to mind.

    The rain has a certain effect on certain people. It makes me sleepy. It makes the young couple next to me frisky and I look over to see that the boy-husband-to-be has his hands down the jeans of his wife-to-be.

    This time I give them the full fledged black mother look that says: I will slap both of you into next week! He removes his hand I have to inhale the faint scent of "pussy" for the next few hours.

    The flight attendants finally offer water.

    8:00PM - The rains stop. The Captain announces that we have been cleared for take-off.

    10:30PM (NY Time) 9:30PM (Memphis time) - The flight was the bumpiest I have been on in a long time. My nerves are bad. My head hurts. I'm beyond hunger. My blood sugar is low that I;m too weak to stand in line for the packets that contain new flight info, $25 voucher, and the telephone number to call for a discount hotel. I don't want a discount hotel I want the nice one that I still can't remember. I tell NW airline representative that I feel faint. She makes a face and takes a step away from me. I get off of the line and take a seat. I call my sister and she checks for hotels that are close by. Everything is sold out. I would have to travel 25 miles for a hotel. All I want is a meal, a hot shower, a cigarette and bed.

    I pop a piece of chewing gum in my mouth - this gives me enough energy to walk over to the free standing units where you can dial an extension number and get a hotel or car rental. I call the Hilton. Yipppeee! They have rooms available - yes, smoking rooms - yes, 24 hour room service - and its just a mile away. The shuttle bus is not running - no problem - I'll take the taxi the one mile - how much could that be?

    10;30PM - The taxi man laughs at me - one mile? - more like six to eight miles and $30 Dollars At the hotel the front desk person advises that there are no more smoking rooms. But I reserved one? Nope - I don't know what that agent was looking at. We have none. Okay, but you do have 24 room service, right? No, room service is over at 10PM. You can order pizza from Domino's, Papa Johns or Pizza hut. I say, do you at least have a mini bar in the room. No.

    11:00PM - In the room I am on hold with NW airlines on my cell phone - on the hotel phone I order my pizza. They tell me about 30 minutes.

    11:15PM - Still on hold with NW.

    11:45 - Still on hold with NW.

    12:10AM - The NW agent tries to help me get back home with minimal connections - but it is not looking good. Pizza man comes - I give him the money and thank him. I sit down on the bed, rip the lid off the box and you know what's inside? BAKED CINNAMON STICKS -- I scream, rush to the door and out into the hallways hollering for the delivery man, but he's gone. Hearing the rush of cuss words that spill from my mouth - the NW agent offers some condolences and puts me back on hold.

    I call Pizza Hut and explain the problem, they assure me that they will get the right order to me in 20 minutes.

    12:45AM - NW agent is now trying to get me on a Delta flight direct into Kennedy so he places me back in hold. I call Pizza Hut and have to explain myself all over again. the woman says at this point its an hour and a half wait. I am surprised at how cool and calm I am - being hungry, tired and in full PMS mode - I don't yell, scream or cuss her - well its not her fault. I explain again - she puts me on hold. While I wait I think about what the maid will say the next morning when she walks into my room to find me dead across the bed with a cell phone in one hand and the hotel phone in the other.

    The pizza girl comes back and tells me that my pizza has left the building and should be there shortly.

    1:20AM - NW agent confirms me on the Delta flight. Wishes me good luck with my Pizza.

    1:50AM - Pizza arrives. I gobble down three slices and wash it down with a few swigs from the 2 Liter Pepsi they sent along with it. ( I don't drink soda). Afterwards I stumble into the shower and wash off the grime that comes along with traveling.

    2:15AM - I fall into bed and pass out for an hour. A sharp pain in my chest drags me from my slumber. I believe I am having a heart attack in my sleep. I jump up and reach for the phone - I belch - the pain goes away. Oh, it was just gas. I finally remember the name of the hotel - The Peabody - and fall back to sleep.









  • Bernice L. McFadden
  • Thursday, June 25, 2009

    RIP MJ




    He was my first love. The first boy to make my heart go pitter-patter. When I grew up I was for sure he was going to be my husband and I his wife. I saw him perform live during the famed Victory tour. I had the best seats - from where I stood it was as if he was singing just to me. It was magic. Till this day, his song, Heartbreak Hotel still brings goosebumps.

    He was a genius and an enormous talent.

    The world will never be the same.











  • Bernice L. McFadden
  • Tuesday, June 23, 2009

    Bipolar Links

    RAGE!!!

    Reading this almost made my head explode! I feel shat upon! How much deeper will the degradation go? Nordette Adams writes about Penguins insulting misstep where AA authors are concerned.


    HAPPY:

    Happy Pub Day to Carleen Brice!


    Ecstatic:

    Opening Chapters is so needed! Thank you so much for celebrating the AA literary wordsmith!! (Fist thrust high above my head)


    Stupid:

    Yes, I am writer so why is writing a detailed outline of my work history (otherwise known as a resume) so goddamn difficult? (Not really a link...just preparing you...ok me....for the inevitaitable)


    Sappy:

    I am so touched to know that Sugar is still being discovered and read by individuals and book clubs!! Thanks to Lisa Glenn and the members of Shades of the Desert Reading Group in Arizona!




    Over-the-moon!

    I'm looking forward to speaking and signing at The African American Book Club Festival taking place this weekend in Austin Texas. I wonder if I'll run into Sandra Bullock while I'm there??


    Melancholy:

    Sorry to say I will not be attending the National Book Club Conference this year. I hope to see you all in 2010.

    Monday, June 22, 2009

    One step forward....


    Who the hell is Michael Thomas??? That's exactly what I said when I read that the debut novel Man Gone Down written by AFRICAN-AMERICAN author Michael Thomas had won the Impac Dublin Prize.

    This news of course got me to doing the happy dance, complete with flinging arms and gyrating hips - and a whole bunch of Yippeeeeeeeee's!

    Never heard of that prize? Well its the largest and most international prize of its kind. It involves libraries from all of the world and books written in any language. And guess what? Thomas' beat out Joyce Carol Oates, Philip Roth and Doris Lessing...

    After I exhausted myself I sat down and wondered how and why this author and his book had slipped under my radar? I didn't hear any talk about it -- none at all!

    I wonder, was it offered as a Black Expressions selection? Was it featured in Essence, Jet or Ebony Magazines? Was he a B&N Discover Great New Writer's nominee? Was his book placed on the "Black Table" in the bookstore?

    Exactly, how were we suppose to know about Man Gone Down if not from the usual suspects???

    Hmmmmm, do you think Thomas winning this award will make publishers stand up and pay attention to AA literary writers?

    Did you know about Thomas and his book? If you did please tell me how the author and his book came to your attention.



  • Bernice L. McFadden
  • Wednesday, June 17, 2009

    The Oprah effect or lack there of...

    I'm just wondering out loud here, but has any one checked to see if after Oprah waves her magic wand and blesses a book if publishers then scramble to acquire and publish five-hundred books that smell, read, and feel like the blessed one?

    And let me premise my next question with this -- I love Oprah, I really do - but do you think that if Oprah paid more attention to African-American authors then publishing would too?

    Do you think the publishing massa's - I mean masters are sitting around chewing on cigars, grunting, "Well if she don't give a crap about her own people, then why the hell should we?"

    And why don't WE have a major publishing house? Where is the black writer's equivalent of the black actors Tyler Perry?

    Hmmmm.. could that person be a former geeky white boy from DC who is more concerned about the beauty of the written word than how it will be marketed?

    Akashic Books seems to be picking up the balls that mainstream publishing dropped...books written by Colin Channer, Chris Abani and Elizabeth Nunez just to name a few.

    The Little Big Man as journalist Micheal Gonzalez describes publisher Johnny Temple, reminds me of David Neelman the big boys all laughed at his no frill airline and boasted that he wouldn't last a year as they continued to raise airlines prices and cut services. Don't think they didn't eat their words when Jet Blue was one of the few airlines to turn a profit after 9/11. Even American Express stood up and paid attention and finally fell into bed with -- I mean partnered with them this after Jetblue's long and tiring courtship. "You betta hitch your wagon to my star baby 'cause I'm shooting straight to the moon!"

    Now the big airline boys are scrambling to keep up with Jetblue's low prices and quick expansion. They remind me of PanAm..do you remember them? *sigh*

    Jetblue is one of the more popular airlines among black folk don't cha know!

    Because...uhm,,,,if you don't give us what we want and how we want it we will take our business elsewhere....










  • Bernice L. McFadden
  •