Denied A Stage, She Sang For A Nation

Seventy-five years ago, on April 9, 1939, as Hitler's troops advanced in Europe and the Depression took its toll in the U.S., one of the most important musical events of the 20th century took place on the National Mall in Washington. There, just two performers, a singer and a pianist, made musical — and social — history.

At 42, contralto Marian Anderson was famous in Europe and the U.S., but had never faced such an enormous crowd. There were 75,000 people in the audience that day, and she was terrified. Later, she wrote: "I could not run away from this situation. If I had anything to offer, I would have to do so now."

So, in the chilly April dusk, Anderson stepped onto a stage built over the steps of the Lincoln Memorial and began to sing "My Country, 'Tis of Thee." Her first notes show no sign of nerves. Her voice is forceful and sweet. And the choice of music — that opening song — is remarkable, given the circumstances. The NBC Blue Network announcer explained the unusual venue this way: "Marian Anderson is singing this public concert at the Lincoln Memorial because she was unable to get an auditorium to accommodate the tremendous audience that wishes to hear her."

That was hardly the story. According to Anderson biographer Allan Keiler, she was invited to sing in Washington by Howard University as part of its concert series. And because of Anderson's international reputation, the university needed to find a place large enough to accommodate the crowds. Constitution Hall was such a place, but the Daughters of the American Revolution owned the hall.

"They refused to allow her use of the hall," Keiler says, "because she was black and because there was a white artist-only clause printed in every contract issued by the DAR."

Like the nation's capital, Constitution Hall was segregated then. Black audiences could sit in a small section of the balcony, and did, when a few black performers appeared in earlier years. But after one such singer refused to perform in a segregated auditorium, the DAR ruled that only whites could appear on their stage.

One of the members of the DAR was first lady Eleanor Roosevelt. Outraged by the decision, Roosevelt sent a letter of resignation and wrote about it in her weekly column, "My Day." "They have taken an action which has been widely criticized in the press," she wrote. "To remain as a member implies approval of that action, and therefore I am resigning."

The DAR did not relent. According to Keiler, the idea to sing outdoors came from Walter White, then executive secretary of the NAACP. Since the Lincoln Memorial was a national monument, the logistics for the day fell to Secretary of the Interior Harold Ickes. It was Ickes who led Anderson onto the stage on April 9, 1939.

'Of Thee We Sing'

She began with "My Country, 'Tis of Thee" — also known as "America" — a deeply patriotic song. When she got to the third line of that well-known tune, she made a change. Instead of "of thee I sing" she sang "to thee we sing."

A quiet, humble person, Anderson often used "we" when speaking about herself. Years after the concert, she explained why: "We cannot live alone," she said. "And the thing that made this moment possible for you and for me, has been brought about by many people whom we will never know."

Source: NPR

In the Moof for Chocolate?

I eat chocolate every single day. And I regularly supply chocolate to others. So I was particularly interested when I heard about a study looking at chocolate and depression.

It turns out the more you eat, the more likely you are to have symptoms of depression. In an article in the Archives of Internal Medicine entitled "Mood Food," the researchers note that there are a lot of stories about chocolate's effect on mood. When they Googled "chocolate" and "mood" a month ago, they got about 5.7 million hits. I just did it, and got 6.4 million. But there's not all that much solid research out there, and what there is has uncertain results.

So three researchers from the University of California, San Diego asked 931 people who'd come in for an unrelated study about cholesterol how many times a week they ate chocolate. The people also filled out a depression questionnaire.

People in the group with screening scores suggesting that they might have major depression ate 12 or more servings a month. A serving, for those of you wondering, was a small bar. People in the group with "possible depression" ate eight servings a month. Those who screened negative for depression ate only five servings a month.

Now, the findings don't mean people who eat a lot of chocolate are necessarily depressed, but it does seem that people with depression are more likely to eat chocolate.

But why would there be an association at all? It could be that people are self-medicating. The researchers can't say that on the basis of this study. Other possibilities: depression may somehow initiate chocolate cravings, or chocolate may trigger depression (though they note this isn't likely). Or there could be some complicated chemical interactions going on. Figuring out the answer would require a different kind of study, they say.

I know what I think. I would be very depressed if I didn't have chocolate. I'll focus on studies showing that it lowers blood pressure and cholesterol, and I'll visit my very favorite chocolate website.

Beatrice Golomb, one of the researchers who worked on the study, admits to making a substantial contribution to the chocolate industry's profits with her own consumption, despite or maybe because of an absence of depressive symptoms. And if you're wondering who funded the chocolate-and-depression study, it was the National Institutes of Health and the UCSD, not the chocolate industry.

Credits: Joanne Silberner, NPR