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The ‘incubator of Black capitalism’ in the U.S. began with a Jackson Ward cottage | Richmond Local News

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Skipwith-Roper cottage

The Skipwith-Roper Cottage as seen when it was at 400 West Duval Street.




During a time when a Black man in Richmond was more likely to be treated as property than possess it, Abraham Skipwith committed a revolutionary act: He owned a home.

Skipwith, the first known free Black person to reside in what would become Jackson Ward, built the gambrel-roofed cottage in the mid-1790s after purchasing his freedom for the price of 40 pounds.

There, at  400  W. Duval St., historians say the entrepreneurial spirit of what local architectural historian Robert P. Winthrop called “the incubator of Black capitalism in the United States” was born.

The iconic cottage was extracted from its roots during the 1950s when white politicians and business leaders conspired to run what is now Interstate 95 through the heart of Jackson Ward. Seemingly lost to history, the cottage quietly endures as a symbol of the capacity of an oppressed people to exceed the narrow limitations prescribed by white Richmond before emancipation.

As Jackson Ward turns 150, keepers of its flame challenge us to think beyond the current landscape of a neighborhood whose heyday and decline embody dreams deferred, realized and gutted.

The retelling of this neighborhood’s origin story unfolds during a moment of racial reckoning that has Richmond, Virginia and the nation searching the cracks and crevices of history for redemption and belated social justice.



Enjoli Moon Sesha Joi Moon

Enjoli Moon and Sesha Joi Pritchett-Moon, Ph.D.




Sisters Enjoli Moon and Sesha Joi Pritchett-Moon of The JXN Project are deconstructing Jackson Ward amid a revitalization whose gentrifying forces could transform it beyond recognition. As part of their goal to recontextualize the neighborhood, they are advocating for Skipwith and other neighborhood luminaries to be celebrated with honorary street signs in a space whose signposts currently hold the names of enslavers and pro-slavery sympathizers.

That Jackson Ward could become known as a “Black Wall Street” defied pernicious white stereotypes of what African Americans were capable of achieving.

Once freed, these bottled-up ambitions erupted in the form of insurance companies, newspapers and the first Black-owned banks chartered by a man, William Washington Browne, and a woman, Maggie Lena Walker.



Walker Browne

Maggie L. Walker and the Rev. William Washington Browne


The prologue to this success story took place in plain sight and outside the white gaze. Black people honed their crafts, pooled their resources and prepared to flourish when freedom came.

“In a matter of years — in some cases less than a decade — people who were once owned by someone else institute a form of Black capitalism that for all intents and purposes was the rival of any white immigrant community in the United States of America,” says University of Richmond historian Julian Maxwell Hayter.

The urban enslaved, granted more autonomy than their rural plantation counterparts, toiled in the tobacco factories, iron foundries and flour mills of a Richmond that was an industrial hub of the South, working overtime and saving money to purchase their freedom.

More than 400 secret societies formed a bustling Black underground that — interwoven with extended families and church organizations — functioned as what historian Peter Rachleff called “the circulatory system of the Black community.”

The speed of this transition from captivity to capitalism is vividly displayed in the records of the Freedman’s Bureau Bank established in Richmond after the Civil War, which list hundreds of fraternal orders with their own accounts.

“Many freedmen start putting their money away in these banks,” said Gregg Kimball, director of public services and outreach at the Library of Virginia.

Some of those orders were burial societies that would evolve into insurance companies. All-Black deacon boards gained experience running large-scale organizations and getting a taste of democracy. The urban Black church adjudicated conflicts and dealt with issues of theft, bigamy and divorce, since Black people wanted to avoid the court system, Kimball said.

“So clearly, Richmond really did have this really deep, organized community that had a sense of uplift, starting to think about themselves as a collective in terms of business,” he said. “That’s the root of what you see emerge very, very, very quickly during Reconstruction.”

Historic scenes in Jackson Ward are contrasted with what the present landscape looks like in Richmond, Va. The district was a thriving African-American community in the first half of the 20th Century. Video by Alexa Welch Edlund/Times-Dispatch


After the war, a pass system required white people to sign off on the comings and goings of African Americans, restricting the latter’s pursuit of their own trades. Those without a pass were marched to what was called “the Negro bull pen,” creating an alliance between Black freedmen and the formerly enslaved. Black Union troops who had helped liberate their brethren marched the streets in protective militias against white violence, Rachleff wrote in his 1984 book, “Black Labor in Richmond, 1865-1890.”

Two months after Richmond fell, local Black men petitioned President Andrew Johnson, demanding legal title to their church property and calling for the removal of the pass system and an end to “Rebel-controlled” government, as described by Rachleff.

The petition cited “at least 2,000 men” worth from $200 to $500; 200 who had property valued at $1,000 to $5,000, “and a number who are worth $5,000 to $20,000.”

“None of our people are in the almshouse,” the men wrote. “Comparatively few of us have found it necessary to ask for government rations, which have been so bountifully bestowed upon the unrepentant Rebels of Richmond.” They boasted of thousands within their ranks who could read, write, or both, “and a large number of us are engaged in useful and profitable employment on our own account.”

Their lobbying was successful. The pass system and pro-Confederacy Mayor Joseph Mayo were removed.

Growing Black empowerment did not go unnoticed by white Richmonders unhappy with their change of fortunes — particularly when Black Richmonders paraded the streets on the April 3, 1866, anniversary of their emancipation.

By 1871, Confederate-sympathizing Democrats managed to regain power and had seen enough: They created Jackson Ward as a political district designed to dilute Black Republican political power by gerrymandering the city’s African American voters into one district.

Hayter said the rapid rise of the formerly enslaved suggests that their ranks included highly skilled, educated people “who had amassed a body of knowledge to help them meet the challenges of a system that was designed to essentially preclude upward mobility.”

None more so than Abraham Skipwith, a plasterer by trade, who did something else unheard of for a Black man of his place and time: He executed a will. His home remained in the Skipwith-Roper family until 1905.

During the late 1950s, Mary Ross Scott Reed — who was among the founders of the Historic Richmond Foundation, along with her sister, Elisabeth Scott Bocock, and her cousin, Mary Wingfield Scott — stood in front of a bulldozer to prevent the cottage’s demolition during the construction of the Richmond-Petersburg Turnpike, according to her grandson, Scott Reed.

The cottage was moved to her family farm in Goochland County.

Today, Reed owns the cottage, which has been renovated and has an addition.

Reed — whose business laser-scans such historic properties as Walker’s St. Luke Building — recently hosted visitors at the cottage, which sits on a hill about a half-mile from the James River, preserved but disconnected from its roots. The land was once the plantation of James Sedden, an enslaver and secretary of war for the Confederate States of America from 1862 to 1865.



cottage that was built by Abraham Skipwith

Sesha Joi Pritchett-Moon, co-creator of The JXN Project, photographs Abraham Skipwith’s home in Goochland County. She says the cottage today could serve as a “model in allyship.”




Reed’s  African American visitors, otherwise elated to see the historic cottage firsthand, bristled at it sitting on the former grounds of enslavement.

In an email to Reed after the visit, Pritchett-Moon wrote that The JXN Project’s mission is “historic preservation through restorative truth-telling and redemptive storytelling.” The cottage, she said, could serve as a “model in allyship.”

“We appreciate your grandmother, and her cousin, for not only documenting and saving this sacred space, but also for treating this historical landmark with such a high level of care for all these years,” she wrote.

And then, she offered to return the favor.

“We can ensure the same intentionality with its custody moving forward — as its return to its space of origin and ownership could be a powerful example of righting historic injustices through restoration, reclamation, reconciliation, redemption and reparations.”

mwilliams@timesdispatch.com

(804) 649-6815

Twitter: @RTDMPW

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Voter suppression: A short history of the long conservative assault on Black voting power

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Then Kavanagh went even further, suggesting that not all eligible voters are of the same quality.

“Not everybody wants to vote, and if somebody is uninterested in voting, that probably means that they’re totally uninformed on the issues,” he added. “Quantity is important, but we have to look at the quality of votes, as well.”

Lawmakers in 47 states have introduced 361 bills this year with provisions that restrict voting access, according to a March 24 tally from New York University Law School’s Brennan Center for Justice.
(For a rough comparison: The Brennan Center’s tally in early February 2020 identified 35 restrictive bills in 15 states.)

“To paraphrase George Orwell,” Columbia University history professor Eric Foner told CNN, “there are those who feel that some voters are more equal than others. And that’s an attitude being implemented right now in some legislatures.”

To the surprise of no one, much of this maneuvering disproportionately targets voters of color — in particular Black voters, who played a critical role in helping Democrats secure both the White House and the US Senate.

Then-Georgia Democratic gubernatorial candidate Stacey Abrams and Grammy-winning artist Common lead voters during a "souls to the polls" event in downtown Atlanta on October 28, 2018.
For instance, in Georgia — a state that last year backed the Democratic presidential nominee for the first time since 1992 — the Republican-controlled legislature briefly considered, then dropped, a proposal that would’ve limited early voting on Sundays, when Black churches traditionally hold their “souls to the polls” events, which are popular get-out-the-vote initiatives.

The current assault on participatory democracy is disturbing not because it’s new — but rather because the country has been here so many times before. US history is rife with examples, many of them violent, of attempts to quash Black voting power, stretching back to at least the mid-19th century.

Southern ‘redemption’

The crowning achievement of Reconstruction — the period that by some accounts began in about 1863, toward the end of the Civil War — was the ratification of the 13th, 14th and 15th Amendments, which together ended slavery, secured all persons due process and equal protection of law, and extended the right to vote to Black men.
Even during this groundbreaking time, Black Americans’ hard-fought rights remained a point of fierce dispute.
“It must be acknowledged that in the progress of nations, Negroes have shown less capacity for government than any other race of people,” President Andrew Johnson, a Democrat, railed in an 1867 message to Congress, less than three years before the ratification of the 15th Amendment. “No independent government of any form has ever been successful in their hands. On the contrary, wherever they have been left to their own devices, they have shown a constant tendency to relapse into barbarism.”
Portrait of Johnson, the 17th president of the United States.
Many White Americans didn’t stop at racist invective. Most infamously in the South, there was also violence that challenged the newfound political strength of Black men.
One notable example occurred in 1868. In the spring of that year, Louisiana voters ratified a state constitution that enfranchised Black men. Many White people in Opelousas, a city in St. Landry Parish, didn’t like that, though. Over the course of about two weeks beginning on September 28, White men in the area killed around 250 people, mostly Black Americans.

The reason: to terrorize Black voters (and anyone who supported Reconstruction efforts) in the run-up to the November presidential contest between Ulysses S. Grant — whose incarnation of the Republican Party backed legislation supporting Black Americans — and Democrat Horatio Seymour, pitched as the “White man’s candidate.”

The brutality had its intended effect. Though Grant became the country’s 18th president, the former Union Army leader didn’t receive a single vote in St. Landry Parish.

(It’s worth remembering that today’s Republicans are the contemporary successors to the 19th-century Democrats. In fits and starts over much of the 20th century, the two parties realigned, propelled largely by the matter of civil rights reforms.)

Black Americans gather dead and wounded following the Colfax Massacre in Louisiana.
Such political violence continued with depressing regularity. Another key example came on April 13, 1873, when a mob of about 150 armed White men in Colfax, the seat of Grant Parish, Louisiana, killed between 60 and 150 Black Americans who had taken over the local courthouse and been defending it from possible Democratic seizure following the state’s controversial 1872 gubernatorial election.
“The Colfax Massacre taught many lessons, including the lengths to which some opponents of Reconstruction would go to regain their accustomed authority,” Foner documents in his 1988 book, “Reconstruction: America’s Unfinished Revolution, 1863-1877.”

As in 1868, power was at the heart of the issue. Most of the attackers were ex-Confederate soldiers, and many of them also belonged to the Ku Klux Klan. Through arson and murder, the group fought to bolster White supremacist policies and keep formerly enslaved people away from the polls — out of the polity.

Other methods

By the end of the 19th century, it was clear that there were other methods for restricting access to the ballot box.

Governments in the South, in complete violation of the 15th Amendment, began to take away Black men’s right to vote — not explicitly but obliquely, via an elaborate mix of, among other things, registration requirements, poll taxes, literacy tests and understanding clauses (where a would-be voter had to prove to a registrar that he understood the state’s constitution; amazingly, Black men never seemed to understand it).

The Reconstruction governments were gone. This was a new era of racial subjugation, captured in the term “Jim Crow.”

“The plan,” Emory University African American studies professor Carol Anderson writes in her 2018 book, “One Person, No Vote: How Voter Suppression Is Destroying Our Democracy,” “was to take years of state-sponsored ‘trickery and fraud’ and transform those schemes into laws that would keep Blacks away from the voting booth, disenfranchise as many as possible and, most important, ensure that no African American would ever assume real political power again.”

In other words, while the approach evolved — became just slightly less egregious — the aim never wavered.

Crucially, political violence remained rampant. It underpinned the Jim Crow racial regime.

On November 10, 1898, a White mob overthrew a legitimately elected biracial government in Wilmington, North Carolina, which had a flourishing Black community, and installed White supremacists. As many as 60 people were killed. Also lost during the massacre was the progressive Black newspaper The Daily Record; the horde set the building aflame.
White supremacists gather outside the scorched remains of Wilmington's Daily Record newspaper building following the 1898 massacre.
“The Constitution of the United States contemplated a government to be carried on by an enlightened people,” Democrat Alfred Waddell, who led the coup d’état, said the day before the assault, reading from the so-called White Declaration of Independence. “Its framers did not anticipate the enfranchisement of an ignorant population of African origin. … We will no longer be ruled, and will never again be ruled by men of African origin.”
Writing for Time magazine last year, journalist David Zucchino, author of the 2020 book, “Wilmington’s Lie: The Murderous Coup of 1898 and the Rise of White Supremacy,” fit the episode into a broader story of political turmoil.

“The 1898 coup capped a months-long White Supremacy Campaign in North Carolina designed to strip Black men of the vote and remove them from public office forever,” he explained.

It wasn’t until the mid-20th-century civil rights movement — when President Lyndon B. Johnson, a Democrat, signed into law the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the Voting Rights Act (VRA) of 1965 — that there was something of a reversal of systematically preventing Black Americans across the South from staking a claim to US democracy through the ballot box.
Notably, there was also what University of Arkansas political science professors Angie Maxwell and Todd Shields call the “Long Southern Strategy,” which was a series of decisions on religion, race and feminism that Republicans made in an effort to court White Southern voters. While the strategy began in earnest in the ’60s, political leaders reformed it over the course of several decades.

Former Republican strategist Lee Atwater summarized the racial dimension of the strategy the following way.

“You start out in 1954 by saying, ‘N****r, n****r, n****r.’ By 1968, you can’t say ‘n***r’ — that hurts you, backfires,” he said in 1981. “So you say stuff like ‘forced busing,’ ‘states’ rights’ and all that stuff. You’re getting so abstract now (that) you’re talking about cutting taxes. And all these things you’re talking about are totally economic things, and a byproduct of them is (that) Blacks get hurt worse than Whites.”

‘This is Jim Crow in new clothes’

The progress achieved during the civil rights movement, which many historians refer to as the Second Reconstruction, is in jeopardy — and has been for some time.
For instance, in 2013, the US Supreme Court’s 5-4 decision in the landmark case Shelby County v. Holder freed jurisdictions with histories of racial discrimination in voting from having to gain federal approval, called “preclearance,” before changing their election laws.
By doing away with direct federal oversight of election laws, the Court empowered wannabe John C. Calhouns and George Wallaces.
Chief Justice John Roberts, who delivered the majority opinion, backed the decision by writing that “racial disparity in (voter registration and turnout numbers in the covered jurisdictions) was compelling evidence justifying the preclearance remedy and the coverage formula. There is no longer such a disparity.”

Not everyone on the Court agreed. Underscoring the wrongheadedness of the decision, the late Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg wrote in her powerful dissent that “throwing out preclearance when it has worked and is continuing to work to stop discriminatory changes is like throwing away your umbrella in a rainstorm because you are not getting wet.”

The fallout from Shelby County ended up illustrating Ginsburg’s point, not Roberts’. The decision paved the way for more restrictive voting laws.
People stand in line outside the Court for a chance to hear oral arguments on February 27, 2013. The Court would hear oral arguments in Shelby County v. Holder.

“One of the lessons, unfortunately, was what can happen to your rights in the hands of a conservative Supreme Court,” Foner told CNN.

Of course, the battle over voting rights isn’t limited to one Court decision. Currently, Arizona’s attorney general and its Republican Party are the plaintiffs in Brnovich v. Democratic National Committee, a case that, as my CNN colleague Joan Biskupic has explained, could allow the new 6-3, conservative-liberal bench to continue chipping away at the VRA.
And across the country, Republicans are shepherding a variety of draconian bills through state legislatures, bills that would, among other things, shrink the number of early-voting days, impose stricter voter identification requirements and limit ballot drop boxes, all of which are measures that observers say would disproportionately disadvantage Black voters and contribute to the predominantly White conservative doom loop.

The avowed reason for proposing such legislation is election security. But that explanation is little more than a canard, in light of the fact that Americans weren’t really worried about election security until Republicans started talking about it, and Republicans didn’t start talking about it until they started losing recent elections.

“There’s a growing trend on the right in which any election they lose is dismissed as illegitimate,” Princeton University history professor Kevin M. Kruse said. “The proponents of voter suppression have created a fiction in which they are the victims of mass voter fraud. They are never able to provide any proof of that, but they believe it all the same.”

But voting rights advocates aren’t taking all of this lying down. HR 1 (the For the People Act) and HR 4 (the Voting Rights Advancement Act) are two bills working their way through the US Congress that could help check Republicans’ voter suppression efforts.
The former, which the Democratic-led House passed in March, would expand voting via policies such as automatic and same-day voter registration. The latter would revise parts of the VRA that were gutted as a result of the 2013 Shelby County decision. Both bills, however, face long odds in the 50-50 Senate at least in part because of the filibuster, a tactic that’s long been used to thwart civil rights progress and bolster White supremacy.
In his maiden floor speech, newly elected Democratic Sen. Raphael Warnock — who, along with Sen. Jon Ossoff, also a Democrat, was declared a winner in Georgia’s January 5 runoff elections on the same day that a Confederate flag-waving mob laid siege to the US Capitol — placed the contemporary battle over voting rights, and over Black political power, into a wider historical context.
Sens. Raphael Warnock and Jon Ossoff of Georgia walk toward the House Chamber in National Statuary Hall of the US Capitol on April 28, 2021.
“We are witnessing right now a massive and unabashed assault on voting rights unlike anything we’ve ever seen since the Jim Crow era,” Warnock said in March. “This is Jim Crow in new clothes.”

Warnock’s focus on the past makes good sense.

After all, “if one cannot use the past, one cannot function in the present,” James Baldwin argues in “Nothing Personal,” his 1964 book with Richard Avedon. “And so one can never be free.”

The task today is to use the past — to understand its racial hierarchies and how they persist — in order to create a tomorrow in which everyone is equal.

CNN’s Nicquel Terry Ellis contributed to this report.

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‘Street Gang’ Pulls The Curtain Back On 50 Years Of ‘Sesame Street’ : NPR

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Cast members of the television show, Sesame Street on the set in 1969, the year the show debuted.

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Cast members of the television show, Sesame Street on the set in 1969, the year the show debuted.

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For generations, Sesame Street has been a mainstay of American children’s television. But when the show premiered more than 50 years ago on Nov. 10, 1969, it was considered controversial, even radical.

“In 1969, what was on TV for kids was a very dire landscape,” says Marilyn Agrelo, the director of a new documentary called Street Gang: How We Got to Sesame Street.

Street Gang: How We Got To Sesame Street is in theaters and on demand now.

Courtesy of Street Gang: How We Got To Sesame Street


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Street Gang: How We Got To Sesame Street is in theaters and on demand now.

Courtesy of Street Gang: How We Got To Sesame Street

“Basically, the programming was geared to sell children toys, Tootsie Rolls and breakfast cereals, and there was no thought of educating them in any way,” she says.

Sesame Street debuted on the airwaves in a tumultuous moment in U.S. history, and the bigger forces upending American life played a big part in shaping how and what the show came to be.

“The people that started the show were intent on harnessing all of the energy that was around the protests of the Vietnam War, the civil rights movement,” Agrelo says. “They wanted to explain the world to children, but their bigger goal was to reach inner city children of color who were not getting the same educational opportunities as white children in the suburbs were getting.”

Based on the book Street Gang: The Complete History of Sesame Street by Michael Davis, the film weaves archival footage and interviews with the show’s longtime cast and crew. Street Gang follows the show’s creators — Joan Ganz Cooney, Jon Stone and Jim Henson — as they craft a new way to bring educational programming into the homes of kids in all parts of the country.

Agrelo and actor Sonia Manzano, who played Sesame Street resident Maria for 44 years, spoke with NPR’s All Things Considered about why the show was so groundbreaking, why audiences connected with Muppets like Big Bird and Oscar the Grouch and its staying power, five decades on. Listen in the audio player above, and read on for a transcript of the interview.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

Mary Louise Kelly: Going back and watching the early episodes of the show, it is so striking. The whole idea was: This is going to look like a realistic city street. Oscar the Grouch is going to totally, plausibly live in a trash can because there’s like trash blowing down the street.

Sonia Manzano: I remember being stunned when I saw the show for the first time. I was a college student at Carnegie Mellon University and there was James Earl Jones reciting the alphabet. And then they cut to Susan, the African American actress Loretta Long, on this urban street. And I was stunned because I am a Puerto Rican, from the Bronx, and I was raised in the ’50s, loved television, [but] never saw anybody who looked like me. And I began to feel on some level that I was invisible. I didn’t know what I would contribute to a society that was determined not to see me. So when I saw that show, I was absolutely thrilled.

James Earl Jones guest stars on Sesame Street with regular cast members Big Bird, Mr. Hooper (played by actor Will Lee) and Maria (actor Sonia Manzano).

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James Earl Jones guest stars on Sesame Street with regular cast members Big Bird, Mr. Hooper (played by actor Will Lee) and Maria (actor Sonia Manzano).

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And how did that inform how you played Maria?

Manzano: I became Maria and never lost sight of myself as a little kid watching television. I watched television to find comfort and order in, what seemed to me, a tumultuous world. So when I became Maria, I never forgot that. And I always assumed that some kid was out there watching me, looking for the same comfort that I looked to find on Leave It to Beaver. Except this is going to be better because I was one of them.

You have this show that set out to intentionally feature a diverse cast of kids and adults. Marilyn, talk about how that went down. There was some pushback.

Marilyn Agrelo: So in 1969, Sesame Street unveils and there is a African American couple who live in the same neighborhood with their white neighbors — yes, with Big Bird and several other Muppets — but it’s a very integrated cast. The first time this [was] ever seen on television in Jackson, Miss., the public television station received a lot of complaints and they stopped airing the show. Miraculously, a commercial station in Jackson said “if the public station won’t air it, then we will.” This is just an example of how groundbreaking this was.

Muppets, the the nonhuman characters on the show, connected so much with people. I know as a kid, I was not remotely aware of a lot of the nobler advancement of social justice and racial equity that you all were grappling with, I just thought, “This is really funny.” The Count and Oscar the Grouch had me rolling on the floor.

Agrelo: There were other shows with puppets on television, but there was something about the writing on Sesame Street. You know, some of those Muppet skits had really sophisticated social satire, and this was all geared to bring the adults in. A perfect example of that is Alistair Cookie, the host of “Monsterpiece Theater.”

Manzano: Certainly another example of how the show worked on two levels was “It’s Not Easy Being Green,” Kermit the Frog singing that wonderful song with Lena Horne, the great jazz singer-activist. And I walked into the studio that day and I said, “Gee, are they singing about what I think they’re singing about? Are they singing about race?”

Jim Henson, the puppeteer behind Ernie, and Frank Oz, the longtime voice of Bert, on the set of Sesame Street.

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Jim Henson, the puppeteer behind Ernie, and Frank Oz, the longtime voice of Bert, on the set of Sesame Street.

Robert Fuhring/Courtesy Sesame Workshop

Well, to me, they were. And that’s an example where it works on so many levels. If that’s what’s in your head, in your mind, in your experience, you would imbue that piece with that sensibility. And certainly kids did, or they just thought it was about what a drag it was to be a green Muppet. It worked on that level as well.

So a show that started out radical, political: Is it still, do you think? Where have we landed five decades later?

Agrelo: I think Sesame Street is addressing the world as it is in the same way that they did then. I know that they have started writing moments where they’re explaining what a protest is. Certainly every child in America has seen the Black Lives Matter protests in the streets and sort of the upheaval that’s happening in our society again, like it did in 1969. So Sesame Street continues to try to interpret the world with authenticity to really help explain to them what is happening around them.

Street Gang: How We Got To Sesame Street is in theaters and streaming now.

Sam Gringlas produced and Sarah Handel edited this story for broadcast.

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‘It’s a people problem:’ Arkansas Baptist College hopes research institute reduces crime – KATV

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