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Perhaps the best insight into the
origins and message of "Serving with Gideon" comes from the writer himself,
Bill Stafford. In his autobiographical book, You Must Revise Your Life,
he writes of an experience during the late 1930's when he was a student
at the University of Kansas.
...there were customs that hurt. Some of us would go into the
cafe' at the Union and have a sit-in, to break down the policy against
serving blacks-"Negroes", in those days ...whites and blacks could not
sit together and be served. So we would sit apart, be served, then take
our food and sit down together. I didn't have to be black to be bitter
about it. (10)
The memory of this experience appears
to be the impetus behind "Serving with Gideon." As such, it gives an entirely
different slant to the poem than it first appears. This is no piece about
the reminiscences of a black man about his segregated youth. (Read in this
manner, however, Stafford's poem still has dramatic impact!) Instead, the
speaker is most likely Stafford himself, recalling early attempts at what
later came to be called "civil rights demonstrations." The title
alone begs the reader's consideration. Who, exactly, is "Gideon?" The most
universally known figure by that name would be the Biblical figure of the
Old Testament or Torah. He was the sixth Judge of Israel, after the death
of Joshua. Specifically, he lead a band of only three hundred men against
the multitudes of the Midianites, slaying them and providing Isreal's release
from bondage. It is of interest to note that the name "Gideon" literally
means "one who cuts down" (Judges 6-8).
Initially, to this reader the title
appeared to be a reference to the black elevator man of lines 3-5. The
inference, then, was that his name was "Gideon." The writer appeared to
be speaking of his memories of serving, in some capacity, with this Gideon.
This interpretation appeared, also, to more closely match this reader's
original concept of the speaker as being a black man recalling his own
youth.
However, in light of the quoted
comments in Stafford's memoirs, as well as the more widely known origins
of the name Gideon, a different picture emerges: "Serving with Gideon"
may be well read as "Serving with The Few Who Help to Cut Down Injustice."
In turn, this changes some of the meanings of the individual lines of the
poem, as well as the whole of the work.
The first stanza, lines 1-5 sets
up the poem. At first, it appears that this is a piece of simple nostalgia.
The flavor of small town life subtly appears and catches the reader's interest.
"Now I remember" (line 1): The reader is invited to remember along with
the writer. "...In our town the druggist prescribed Coca Cola mostly, in
tapered glasses to us..." (lines 1-3). This is everybody's dream town,
where more Coca Cola is dispensed than prescriptions for illnesses. Although
nothing is said about the beverage being cold or frosty, one can easily
imagine such in the case-in all likelihood by drawing upon one's own memories-from
the descriptive word "tapered." The reader is now lulled into a sense of
the safe, All-American small town.
Then a small ripple appears on
this sea of tranquility and peace. The illusion begins to take on a more
sinister form; With the thought of a frosty soft drink at a cozy soda fountain
still playing on the senses, a bitter taste thrusts itself upon the reader.
"...and to the elevator man in a paper cup, so he could drink it elsewhere..."
(lines 3-4). What is this? Why does he have to drink elsewhere? An uncertainty
begins to take over. "...because he was black" (lines 4-5). Now we have
the picture of a segregated town. The picture has suddenly become distasteful
to the reader-possibly even shocking, as Stafford probably intended it
to be.
No longer lulled, the writer has
our full attention as we read on to stanza two. "And now I remember The
Legion-gambling in the back room, and no women but girls, old boys who
ran the town" (lines 6-8). We have a picture now of those who run this
town, and therefore are largely responsible for some of its laws and customs-such
as segregation. Stafford draws an unflattering picture of them; these men
who spend their time in their own closed club. They don't admit women to
their inner sanctum (perhaps because they might introduce a voice of moderation
or even change?), but they make sure that they are surrounded by "girls"-girls
about whose moral character Stafford seems to invite us to guess.
What or who, though, is "The Legion?"
Far from being the name of a particular club or lodge, the phrase appears
to refer to multitudes, a literal legion of people in a plethora of towns
across the U.S. who allowed similar policies. It is a subtle distinction,
one that paints a picture of the broader scope of the problem than the
one small town depicted.
"They were generous, to their sons
or the sons of friends" (lines 8-9). Even as this "Legion is a closed fraternity,
their generosity is closed to all but the chosen few. The picture of the
stereotypical, good-old-boys'-network emerges as the downside of this small
town picture. "And of course I was almost one" (line 10). The writer was
almost one of which-the good old boys or one of the sons? At first glance,
the writer seems to be saying that he was almost one of the sons. This
begs the question, why was he only "almost?" The implication is that he
was somehow apart from the other sons, somehow different. Could it be because
he was a black youth? Or was it because the speaker was Stafford himself,
speaking of his college experiences at sit-ins?
As the latter, this line opens
up a greater depth of meaning. Stafford is saying that he could
have sat back and been one of them, too. Because he didn't, he never became
totally accepted within the town. Although he was white, he would always
be on the outside because of his actions. It is also possible to see this
line as referring back to "The Legion" itself: The speaker is then saying
that he was "almost one" of the "old boys." This could be part of the larger
picture that Stafford was attempting to portray-if he hadn't chosen to
fight against the injustice he saw, he would have ended as nothing
better than one of the "old boys."
The third stanza also gives substance
to Stafford's memoirs. "I remember winter light closing its great blue
fist slowly eastward along the street, and the dark then, deep as war
..." (lines 11-13). Here is a reference not only to a literal evening,
but an evening of the spirit. In his memoirs, Stafford spoke of the "...strain...(of)
the emerging certainty of World War II" (10). The picture of the oncoming
darkness, with "its great blue fist," can be seen as his growing unease
with the darkness the nation appeared to be headed into, not only in a
World War, but a figurative "war" at home in regards to the rectifying
of racial injustice.
"...Arced over a radio show call
the thirties in the great old U.S.A" (14-15). Stafford uses a metaphorical
analogy of a radio show, as he sets the time period in the thirties. Why
a radio show? With radio, one could hear but not see. The picture is of
a people who may hear what is being said around them, but they fail
to really see with any understanding. As their vision grows dimmer,
the darkness does, indeed, advance like a great blue fist to envelop them.
Stanza four repeats the phrase
of line 10. "Look down, stars-I was almost one of the boys" (lines 16-17).
The tone is almost one of relief, compared to line 10's hint of wistfulness.
Here is a sound of triumph, of victory, even defiance. The very heavens
are urged to look upon the speaker and his beliefs. "My mother was folding
her handkerchief..." (lines 17-18). Perhaps this gesture speaks to anxiety
on the part of the writer's mother for what she sees about to happen, something
akin to the nervous habit of folding and unfolding a piece of cloth. "...The
library seethed and sparked; right and wrong acred..." (line 18). Possibly
another metaphor, the library represents knowledge-where old and new ideas,
and "right and wrong," meet. The resulting conflict of ideas and beliefs
leads to the arcing-defined by Webster's Dictionary as
"...when a current leaps the gap from one to the other."
The speaker makes that leap from
one gap (his beliefs) to the other (set of actions) in the final line:
"...and carefully I walked with my cup toward the elevator man" (lines
19-20). We see Stafford performing his act of protest, even as he recounted
in his memoirs: "So we would sit apart, be served, then take our food
and sit down together" (10). Stafford as the speaker paints a clear
picture here of taking his drink and going to join the elevator man.
This poem is at once poignant and
pungent. It begins as a look back at small town life in the thirties, evoking
warm-and-fuzzy memories of an old soda fountain and a cold Coke. It suddenly
shifts to become a call to conscience, carrying the reader with it, as
Stafford shows what was wrong as well with those times in "the great old
U.S.A." Quietly and without fanfare, Stafford lays down the challenge:
Is everything right today in "the great old U.S.A?"
Works Cited
King James Bible: Schofield Reference. New York: Oxford University
Press, 1909.
Magill, Frank N., Ed. Critical Survey of Poetry: English Language
Series. Englewood Cliffs: Salem Press, 1982.
Stafford, William. You Must Revise Your Life. Ann Arbor: University
of Michigan, 1986.
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