SOURCE: “Broadside Press: A Personal Chronicle,” in The Black Seventies, edited by Floyd B. Barbour, Porter Sargent Publisher, 1970, pp. 139-48.

[In the following essay, Randall offers a history of Broadside Press, including a description of its early years, its philosophy and business structure, and its significant publications. Randall further states his concern for the need of more small black presses that specialize in the genres of the essay, drama, and reference.]

Broadside Press did not grow from a blueprint. I did not, like Joe Goncalves when he planned the Journal of Black Poetry, save money in advance to finance the press. Broadside Press began without capital, from the twelve dollars I took out of my paycheck to pay for the first Broadside, and has grown by hunches, intuitions, trial and error.

Our first publication was the Broadside “Ballad of Birmingham.” Folk singer Jerry Moore of New York had it set to music, and I wanted to protect the rights to the poem by getting it copyrighted. Learning that leaflets could be copyrighted, I published it as a Broadside in 1965. Jerry Moore also set the ballad “Dressed All in Pink” to music, and in order to copyright it I printed this poem also as a Broadside. Being a librarian, accustomed to organizing and classifying material, I grouped the two poems into a Broadside Series, and called them Broadsides number one and number two. Since Broadsides, at that time, were the company's sole product, I gave it the name Broadside Press.

In May 1966 I attended the first Writers’ Conference at Fisk University, and obtained permission from Robert Hayden, Melvin B. Tolson, and Margaret Walker, who were there, to use their poems in the Broadside Series. I wrote to Gwendolyn Brooks and obtained her permission to use “We Real Cool.” This first group of six Broadsides, called “Poems of the Negro Revolt,” is, I think, one of the most distinguished groups in the Broadside Series, containing outstanding poems by some of our finest poets.

At that time my intention was to publish famous familiar poems in an attractive format so that people could buy their favorite poems in a form worth treasuring. A reviewer in Small Press Review, however, suggested that I could serve contemporary poetry better by publishing previously unpublished poems. Beginning with Broadside twenty-five, I have attempted to do this, I try to make the format of the Broadside harmonize with the poem in paper, color, and typography, and often employ artists to design or illustrate the Broadsides. Some Broadsides outstanding for their appearance are number four (“The Sea Turtle and the Shark,” by Melvin B. Tolson), designed in blue by sculptor-painter Cledie Taylor; number six (“We Real Cool,’ by Gwendolyn Brooks), lettered white on black by Cledie Taylor to simulate scrawls on a blackboard; and number eighteen (“Black Madonna,” by Harold Lawrence), gold on white with an illustration by painter Leroy Foster.

The first book planned (but not the first published) by Broadside Press was For Malcolm: Poems on the Life and the Death of Malcolm X. This book had its genesis at the first Fisk University Writers’ Conference. As I was walking to one of the sessions, I saw Margaret Walker, the poet, and Margaret Burroughs, the painter, sitting in front of their dormitory. Mrs. Burroughs was sketching, and Miss Walker was rehearsing her reading, for she was to read her poems that afternoon. I sat down to watch and to listen, and when Miss Walker read a poem on Malcolm X, I said, “Everybody's writing about Malcolm X. I know several people who've written poems about him.”

“That's right,” Margaret Burroughs said. “Why don't you collect the poems and put out a book on Malcolm?”

I thought it over for a few seconds, snapped my fingers, and said, “I'll do it. And you can be my co-editor.”

Thus the anthology For Malcolm was born.

Most conferences have much talk, but little action. Mrs. Burroughs and I decided to inject some action into this conference by announcing our book at the final session, and offering the writers there a concrete vehicle for their poems. David Llorens promised to announce it in Negro Digest (now Black World) and in a few days I received the first poem. This anthology is notable not only for the many fine poems it includes, but also because it brings maturer poets such as Robert Hayden, Margaret Walker, and Gwendolyn Brooks together with younger poets such as LeRoi Jones, Larry Neal, Bobb Hamilton, Sonia Sanchez, Julia Fields, Etheridge Knight, David Llorens, and others. My editorship of the book acquainted me with many of the younger poets and with the periodicals Soulbook and Black Dialogue, and led to rewarding friendships with some of the poets.

Although this anthology was the first book planned by Broadside Press, it was not the first one published. Because of printer's delays, it was not published until June 1967. In the meantime, Poem Counterpoem, by Margaret Danner and myself, was published in December 1966; it is the first book published by Broadside Press. It has a unique format, as its title suggests. The poems are arranged in pairs, a poem by each author on facing pages, and each pair of poems is on the same or a similar subject. The most obvious example of this pairing is the last pair of poems, each of which bears the title “Belle Isle.”

The first edition, limited to five hundred numbered, autographed copies, had a four-by-five inch format like that of the Russian poetry series “The Young Guard,” which sold for ten or twelve kopeks (eight or ten cents), and which favorably impressed me when I visited Russia in 1966. The American public, however, buys books like cabbages, by weight not by content, and it did not sell well in this format. The second printing was enlarged to the regular book size of eight by five inches, and although it contained the same poems and the same number of pages, it sold better. The book is now in its second, revised edition and its third printing. I suppose a few copies of the original printing are still available at a few bookstores.

The next book to be published by Broadside Press was one of our best selling books, Black Pride, by the popular young poet, Don I. Lee, I had met Mr. Lee when the copies of For Malcolm arrived at Mrs. Burroughs’ Museum of African American History. Don Lee, at that time an assistant at the Museum, whose quiet manner belied the fires underneath, helped us as we autographed and mailed authors’ copies. Later, he sent me some poems for comments, and then sent me a copy of his first book, Think Black, which he had had privately printed in an edition of 700, which sold out in one week. I wrote him a note thanking him for his book and commented on it.

When his second book, Black Pride, was ready, he asked that Broadside Press publish it, and that I write the introduction. We published Black Pride in 1968, and took over Think Black. In 1969, we published his Don't Cry, Scream, in both paperbound and cloth editions. The cloth edition of Don't Cry, Scream was a first with Broadside Press, but shortly afterward we put out our second hardcover book, the second edition of For Malcolm.

At this writing, Think Black has had twelve printings, and there are twenty-five thousand copies in print. Black Pride is in its seventh printing, and Don't Cry, Scream, just out in March 1969, had its third printing (5000 copies) the following September. It is only lack of money which prevents these printings from being 10,000 instead of 5000, as they sell rapidly and it is hard to keep bookstores in supply. All together, there are about 55,000 copies of Don Lee's books in print at this time. This has occurred without book reviews in the mass media. The only reviews of Lee's books have appeared in small black and underground magazines. In March 1969 there was an article on Lee by David Llorens in Ebony, a widely circulated black magazine, but the article appeared after, not before, Lee had attained his popularity.

Another poet who has been warmly praised is Etheridge Knight. He contributed three poems to For Malcolm, and I corresponded with him in Indiana State Prison. I asked him to do a book for Broadside Press, and we published his Poems from Prison in 1968, which is now in its third printing. Mr. Knight is now living in Indianapolis, and is working on his second book of poetry.

James Emanuel's first book of poetry, The Treehouse and Other Poems was also published in 1968, as was my second book of verse, Cities Burning. The same year we become distributors for Nikki Giovanni's second book, Black Judgment, and published Margaret Danner's Impressions of African Art Forms. This book, which is a facsimile of the original edition privately printed in 1960, has the distinction of being the only volume of poetry completely devoted to the vivid, varied, sophisticated arts of Black Africa. In 1969, books by Jon Eckels, Beatrice Murphy and Nancy Arnez, Sonia Sanchez, Marvin X, Keorapetse Kgositsile, and Stephany were published.

Our list has expanded considerably from the two Broadsides with which we began in 1965. Now, in 1970, we have sixteen books and thirty-two Broadsides. Scheduled to be published are books by Lance Jeffers, Doughtry Long, and John Raven. Among books promised to us are two by Pulitzer Prize-winner Gwendolyn Brooks and Margaret Walker, winner of the Yale University Younger Poets Award.

In 1969 we published our second anthology, Black Poetry: A Supplement to Anthologies Which Exclude Black Poets. Robert Hayden and I, both of whom have taught at the University of Michigan, were asked by the chairman of the Department of English to compile a small collection of black poetry, as students had pointed out that the anthologies used in the introduction-to-poetry courses contained no black poets. Because of pressures of time in moving to different teaching posts, Mr. Hayden had to withdraw from the project, but I completed it, and the new anthology can be used both by students and by the general reader. We are also distributing an anthology of poetry and prose, Black Arts: An Anthology of Black Creations, edited by Ahmed Alhamisi and Harun Kofi Wangara, and published in 1969 by Alhamisi's Black Arts Publications. In a different dimension is Broadside Voices, which is a series of poets reading their own books on tape. So far, James Emanuel, Dudley Randall, Etheridge Knight, Sonia Sanchez, Jon Eckels, Beatrice Murphy and Nancy Arnez, Marvin X, Willie Kgositsile, Don Lee, and Stephany have taped their books. James Emanuel was the first to complete a tape, and he read so well that Etheridge Knight, to whom I sent Emanuel's tape as a model, said that Emanuel gave him an inferiority complex in regard to his own reading. Knight made four tapes before he produced one which was satisfactory.

There are interesting sound effects in some of the tapes. An explosive sound which occurs at a dramatic moment in Emanuel's tape near the end of “A View from the White Helmet” is the sound of an automobile backfiring. The percussive sounds at the beginning of Sonia Sanchez's tape, which she recorded in my home, are the tapping of her shoes as she walked back and forth while reading. When I played back the first few poems, I detected the noise, and asked her to pull off her shoes.

In 1968 Broadside Press began United States distribution of Paul Breman's Heritage Series, imported from England, which includes Conrad Kent Rivers’ posthumous The Still Voice of Harlem and Russell Atkin's Heretofore. Eventually the series will include books by Lloyd Addison, Ray Durem, Owen Dodson, Audrey Lorde, Dudley Randall, Ishmael Reed, and other poets.

Up to now, Broadside Press has published poetry only. A new departure will be the series Broadside Critics, which will be pamphlets of criticism of black poetry by black critics. James Emanuel has consented to be editor of the series. Pamphlets for which tentative commitments have been made are: Don L. Lee on poets emerging during the 1960's, Arna Bontemps on Jean Toomer, Robert Hayden on Countee Cullen, James Emanuel on Langston Hughes, and Dudley Randall on Gwendolyn Brooks. It is hoped that these pamphlets will be enlightening and influential.

I have not locked myself in any rigid ideology in managing Broadside Press, but I suppose certain inclinations or directions appear in my actual activities. As clearly as I can see by looking at myself (which is not very clearly, because of the closeness) I restrict the publications to poetry (which I think I understand and can judge not too badly). An exception is the new Broadside Critics, which, even though prose, will be concerned with poetry. I reserve the press for black poets (except in For Malcolm), as I think the vigor and beauty of our black poets should be better known and should have an outlet. I try to publish a wide variety of poetry, including all viewpoints and styles (viewpoints as opposed as Marvin's X's and Beatrice Murphy's, styles as diverse as James Emanuel's and Don L. Lee's). I deplore incestuous little cliques where poets of a narrow school or ideology band together, cry themselves up, and deride all others. I believe that in the house of poetry there are many mansions, and that we can enjoy different poets for the variety and uniqueness of their poetry, not because they are all of a sameness.

Broadside Press has not been subsidized or funded by any individual, organization, foundation, or government agency. It is, has been, and always will be, free and independent. It is a free, black institution. Support for the Press has come from the grassroots, from poets who donated their poems to the anthology For Malcolm, in honor of Malcolm; from the poets in the first group of the Broadside Series, who steadfastly refused payment for their poems; from the many persons who subscribed in advance for the Broadside Series and the anthologies, so that they could be printed; and from others who donated sums above their subscriptions. It is the poets and the people who have supported Broadside Press.

I've declined partnerships, mergers, and incorporations, as I want freedom and flexibility of action; want to devote the press to poetry; and am afraid that stockholders in a corporation would demand profits and would lower quality or go into prose in order to obtain profits. Income from the press goes into publishing new books in an attractive and inexpensive format. I pay royalties to other poets, but royalties on my own books go back into the press. I'm not against royalties for myself, or profits for the company, if they ever come, but I'm more interested in publishing good poetry.

Once Gwendolyn Brooks asked me what title to call me by. I replied that since I, in my spare time and in my spare bedroom, do all the work, from sweeping floors, washing windows, licking stamps and envelopes, and packing books, to reading manuscripts, writing ads, and planning and designing books, that she just say that Dudley Randall equals Broadside Press.

In a broader sense, though, Broadside Press is, in embryo, one of the institutions that black people are creating by trial and error and out of necessity in our reaching for self-determination and independence. I don't think it's necessary to belabor the importance of poetry. Poetry has always been with us. It has always been a sustenance, a teacher, an inspiration, and a joy. In the present circumstances it helps in the search for black identity, reinforces black pride and black unity, and is helping to create the soul, the consciousness, and the conscience of black folk.

Instead of trying to justify poetry and the necessity of our own presses such as Broadside and the others like it—Don L. Lee's Third World Press, Tom Dent's Free Southern Theatre, Eugene Perkins’ Free Black Press, LeRoi Jones’ Jihad Productions, Ed Spriggs’ and Nikki Giovanni's Black Dialogue Press, Joe Concalves’ Journal of Black Poetry Press, Casper Jordan's and Russell Atkins’ Free Lance Press, and Norman Jordan's new Vibration Press—it would be more fruitful to look toward the future and plan how to turn these small beginnings into viable and permanent institutions. One must recognize, however, their lack of capital in a capitalistic society where a large proportion of small businesses fail every year.

I admit that I am not well qualified to operate in a capitalistic society. I came of age during the Great Depression, and my attitude toward business is one of dislike and suspicion. Writers who send me manuscripts and speak of “making a buck” turn me off.

Capitalistic writers praise the profit motive as a powerful incentive. I think they're liars. I have to confess that I seldom think of profits. My strongest motivations have been to get good black poets published, to produce beautiful books, help create and define the soul of black folk, and to know the joy of discovering new poets. I guess you could call it production for use instead of for profit.

Nevertheless, I think we should remember the lesson of the Negro Renaissance, and try to stay solvent in this jungle society. Negro writers who were a fad during the twenties were dropped by white publishers and readers when the Depression came in the thirties. Black publishers should try to build a stable base in their own communities. It is the black bookstores which are most genuinely interested in their books. In my own home town, Detroit, neither of the large department stores (in a black neighborhood, incidentally) and almost none of the white book stores stock Broadside books. Vaughn's Book Store (black) alone carries all of them. There is an interdependence between black booksellers and black publishers. One Chicago bookseller, who had just opened a store, told me, “Only Broadside and Free Black Press would give me credit. The white companies wouldn't do it.”

Publishers should foster the closest and most helpful relations with these small bookstores, should visit them, furnish them with advertisement and information, and help them with ordering.

They should encourage their authors to give readings in the bookstores and to meet their readers. They should encourage sound business practices among them by such means as giving extra discounts for early payment. Black book jobbers should be developed, as the white book jobbers are singularly uninterested in the small black publisher. Baker & Taylor, Campbell and Hall, and other large white jobbers, for instance, do not stock Broadside Press books, but only order single copies when they receive an order. We need black distributors who'll buy large quantities of books from black publishers and furnish them promptly to the trade.

We need more small publishers who will specialize in other genres besides poetry. We have always had good actors, but we have not had black playwrights to furnish them material. Today, however, we have a flowering of dramatists in LeRoi Jones, James Baldwin, Ed Bullins, Douglas Turner Ward, Owen Dodson, Sonia Sanchez, Marvin X, and others. Black publishers, like the French and the Baker Companies, could publish their plays in inexpensive pamphlets like poetry, and could supply mimeographed copies of parts to the many schools, colleges, churches, and grassroots theatres springing up over the country which are clamoring for meaningful material.

We have produced many fine essayists, of eloquence and moral urgency, from Frederick Douglass through Du Bois, Wright, Ellison, Baldwin, and Jones to Addison Gayle and Larry Neal. Essays, like poetry and the drama, are another genre which could be published in inexpensive pamphlets, singly or in collections.

Reference librarians, like myself, have often been frustrated by the gaps in reference materials on the Negro. Ira Aldridge, for instance, one of the greatest Shakespearean actors, has only in the last few years been included in biographical or theatrical reference works. Teachers, librarians, professors, and scholars could compile bibliographies, handbooks, directories, indexes, and biographical works to supplement inadequate reference works like Who's Who in America, Encyclopedia Americana, Contemporary Authors, and others. These would find a ready market in libraries, schools, colleges, businesses, and homes. A forthcoming example of such a work is Charles Evans’ Index to Black Anthologies, which will index anthologies likely to be left out of Grainger's Index to Poetry. Another example, although not a reference work, is my own Black Poetry: A Supplement to Anthologies Which Exclude Black Poets, the title of which is self-explanatory.

Large works such as novels, biographies, and non-fiction books, which are more costly to produce and market, will have to be left to more affluent publishers, like the Johnson Publishing Company, which has already published several novels and non-fiction books.

There is a growing market for black books, not only among the young black high school and college students, but also among older, less educated persons. A neighbor told me that he saw a worker on the production line of an automobile factory with a copy of the anthology For Malcolm in his hip pocket. I often get orders for poetry books which are scrawled and misspelled on paper torn from notebooks, and once received an order scrawled on part of a brown paper bag. I am more pleased to receive such individual orders than to receive a large order from a bookstore or a jobber, for they show that black people are reading poetry and are finding it a meaningful, not an esoteric, art.

We are a nation of twenty-two million souls, larger than Athens in the Age of Pericles or England in the Age of Elizabeth. There is no reason why we should not create and support a literature which will be to our own nation, and to the world, what those literatures were to theirs.