Can T Give It Away On Seventh Avenue

When the Rolling Stones first arrived at JFK Airport in June 1964, they hadn’t even had a hit record in America. By the end of the decade, they were mobbed by packed audiences at Madison Square Garden and were the toast of New York City’s media and celebrity scene. More than fifty years later, the history of New York City and the Rolling Stones have entwined and paralleled, with the group playing in nearly all of the Big Apple’s legendary venues. Along the way Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, and the rest of the Stones have left an impact on the culture of the city, from the turbulent “Fun City” of the 1960s and ’70s through the twenty-first century. The evolving career of the Stones has often reflected the cultural changes of the city, as the Stones and their music were the center of social and political controversies during the same era that New York faced similar challenges. Can’t Give It Away on Seventh Avenue: The Rolling Stones and New York City explores the history of the group through the prism of New York. It is a highly detailed document of the dynamic and reciprocal relationship between the world’s most famous band and America’s most famous city as well as an absorbing chronicle of the remarkable impact the city has had on the band’s music and career.

A complete history of The Rolling Stones in New York City. When the Rolling Stones first arrived at JFK Airport in June 1964, they hadn’t even had a hit record in America. By the end of the decade, they were mobbed by packed audiences at Madison Square Garden and were the toast of New York City’s media and celebrity scene. More than fifty years later, the history of New York City and the Rolling Stones have entwined and paralleled, with the group playing in nearly all of the Big Apple’s legendary venues. Along the way Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, and the rest of the Stones have left an impact on the culture of the city, from the turbulent “Fun City” of the 1960s and ’70s through the twenty-first century. The evolving career of the Stones has often reflected the cultural changes of the city, as the Stones and their music were the center of social and political controversies during the same era that New York faced similar challenges. Can’t Give It Away on Seventh Avenue: The Rolling Stones and New York City explores the history of the group through the prism of New York. It is a highly detailed document of the dynamic and reciprocal relationship between the world’s most famous band and America’s most famous city as well as an absorbing chronicle of the remarkable impact the city has had on the band’s music and career.

Mezz Mezzrow was a boy from Chicago who learned to play the sax in reform school and pursued a life in music and a life of crime. He moved from Chicago to New Orleans to New York, working in brothels and bars, bootlegging, dealing drugs, getting hooked, doing time, producing records, and playing with the greats, among them Louis Armstrong, Bix Beiderbecke, and Fats Waller. Really the Blues, the jive-talking memoir that Mezzrow wrote at the insistence of, and with the help of, the novelist Bernard Wolfe, is the story of an unusual and unusually American life, and a portrait of a man who moved freely across racial boundaries when few could or did, “the odyssey of an individualist . . . the saga of a guy who wanted to make friends in a jungle where everyone was too busy making money.”

Coinciding with the reopening of the glamourous and famous New York eatery, the former owner releases this revealing memoir of anecdotes about its rich history, including many of the famous people who dined there.

The truth is the shocking true story of a life that could have been better lived. Nathan Chapman killed someone. But it wasn't murder. It was an accident. No malice, no forethought, just a horrible misfortune. Why then did he plead guilty to first degree murder? He didn't. The attorney who Chapman met fifteen minutes before the trial, did. Why? Simple. No one's going to believe it was an accident, his lawyer said regarding his black client's explanation.

A black musician arrested by Nazis in 1930s Germany endures the horrors of the Dachau death camp in this harrowing novel based on historical fact A self-proclaimed “gay negro” from New Orleans, Clifford Pepperidge made his name in the smoky nightclubs of Harlem in the 1920s, playing piano alongside Bessie Smith, Duke Ellington, and other jazz greats. A decade later, he thrills crowds nightly in the cabarets of Weimar Berlin. But dark days are on the horizon as the Nazi Party rises to power. Arrested by Hitler’s Gestapo during a roundup of homosexuals, Clifford finds himself placed in “protective custody” and transported to a concentration camp. Stripped of his dignity and his identity, and plunged into a nightmare of forced labor, starvation, and abuse, he seeks escape in his music. When a camp SS officer and jazz aficionado recognizes Clifford, the gentle musician learns just how far a desperate man will go in order to survive. Shining a light on a little-known aspect of the Holocaust, Clifford’s Blues is a disturbing portrait of a dark era in world history and a poignant celebration of the resilience of the human spirit and the power of music.

This informative and provocative study focuses on the centrality of departure in the texts of five major American women novelists. An important moment in many novels and poems by American women writers occurs when a central character looks out a window or walks out the door of a house. These acts of departure serve to convey such values as the rejection of constraining social patterns, the search for individual fulfillment, and the entry into the political. Janis Stout examines such moments and related patterns of venture and travel in the fiction of five major American novelists of the 20th century: Mary Austin, Willa Cather, Anne Tyler, Toni Morrison, and Joan Didion. Stout views these five writers within a spectrum of narrative engagements with issues of home and departure—a spectrum anchored at one end by Sarah Orne Jewett and at the other by Marilynne Robinson, whose Housekeeping posits a vision of female transience. Through the Window, Out the Door ranges over an expansive territory. Moving between texts as well as between texts and contexts, Stout shows how women writers have envisioned the walls of physical and social structures (including genres) as permeable boundaries, drawing on both a rhetoric of liberation and a rhetoric of domesticity to construct narrative arguments for women's right to move freely between the two. Stout concludes with a personal essay on the dilemmas of domesticity and the ambivalence of departure.