45, Fall 2002
copyright 2002, Jump Cut: A Review of Contemporary Media
of The Uprising Of ’34:
A Coalition Model of Production and Distribution
On May 29, 1955, the citizens of Honea Path, South Carolina, dedicated a memorial to the seven local workers who had been killed during the general textile strike of 1934. The existence of the strike had been publicly unacknowledged for over sixty years, buried in the memories of local participants and their families. Only through the production and distribution of a documentary, The Uprising of ‘34, did the events and significance of the strike return to public awareness, affecting citizens not only in Honea Path but in towns throughout the southeastern United States.
Makers of a politically committed documentary film might like to imagine an audience responding to a film by rising up out of their seats and taking to the streets.1 However, they are probably satisfied if their film “changed the audience’s perceptions” or “increased awareness” of a problem. Given the long-standing interest of political activists in using documentaries for social change, it seems strange that most activists and media scholars still do not clearly understand what the political impact of a documentary film can or even should be. I would like to take up this question, what the “impact” of documentary film might mean, especially in terms of its production and distribution, by using as a case study a seemingly “perfect example”: George Stoney and Judith Helfand’s The Uprising of ’34.
The Uprising of ’34 is a perfect example of the politically committed documentary in three respects. First, the film represents the collaboration of two generations of activist filmmakers. George Stoney was a pioneer in community-based filmmaking. Now with Stoney’s collaborating with Judith Helfand, the two directors continue to explore new possibilities of coalition-based production and distribution. Second, as we will see below, Stoney and Helfand thought about the film’s potential use and impact throughout the entire process—through research, planning, production, and distribution. Third, The Uprising of ’34 embodies what Thomas Waugh terms the “committed documentary”—films that have a goal of “socio-political transformation,” take an “activist stance,” and are subject-centered—
not only about people engaged in … struggles, but also with and by them as well.2
Social scientists often look too narrowly at the political impact of a documentary film, assessing the impact of a finished film within the dominant public discourse and on individual citizens. Unfortunately, such a focus may look mainly at the circumstances where film would least likely have an impact; at best, such an investigation of a film’s impact provides us only with a limited understanding of the multifaceted, complex ways in which film enters the political process.
To assess impact adequately, we must evaluate the entire filmmaking process, including both production and distribution, and not simply the finished product. A film’s development, production, and distribution create extensive opportunities for interaction among producers, participants, activists, decision makers, and citizens, and thus all the stages of a film can affect its impact. By the time an individual citizen sees the work, other moments at which the work has or could have had political impact may have already passed.
Second, to assess a politically committed film’s impact, we must also consider the larger political context, including relevant social movements and the networks of activists and elites associated with the issues that the film raises. Rather than just examining a film’s impact on individual viewers, a broader analysis of context might also lead us to evaluate a film’s potential effects on its producers and other participants involved in production, on activist groups that might contribute to or use the film, and on decision makers and other elites that might hear about the film. A political documentary has a more extensive range of effects beyond changes in individual understanding or attitude. For example, in certain circumstances a film might have a concrete effect on social behavior—if not audiences’ rising up at the end of a screening and taking to the streets, then perhaps community activists’ using screenings as a tool in local communities, or elites’ introducing legislation to address an issue that a film had raised.
Third, a committed documentary’s impact is most likely to be on discourses outside the mainstream, since social movements often strive to create and sustain alternative spheres of public discourse. Many political documentaries may never achieve widespread distribution and do not enter mainstream public discourse but still have an impact in certain subcultures, educating and mobilizing activists working to create social change.Producing for change
The planning, research, and production process for The Uprising of ’34 reflects the collaboration of two filmmakers with a passionate commitment to community-based film. Stoney and Helfand developed and a “coalition model” of production for the film that involved the extensive participation of activist groups, scholars, and individual citizens.3 George Stoney, a life-long innovator in community-based film, has written, directed, and produced over fifty documentaries and television series, including All My Babies (1953), How the Myth Was Made (1978), The Weavers: Wasn't That A Time (1982), and Images of the Great Depression (1990). Stoney was Executive Producer for the National Film Board of Canada’s “Challenge for Change” program, which pioneered collaborative, community-based production, and he later co-founded the Alternate Media Center at New York University, which is credited with developing the concept of public access cable television.
Judith Helfand, a former student of Stoney’s, has continued to explore new variations on collaborative models. In her A Healthy Baby Girl (1996), an autobiographical documentary about her experience with cancer caused by DES, she recorded her meetings with focus groups “as a way of documenting the process of filmmakers collaborating with community organizers and educators to make media that is truly effective in both its production and use.” These focus groups included organizers and educators involved in a wide variety of relevant issues, including labor, the environment, and women’s health. As one part of her distribution efforts, Helfand linked her film to a national campaign by Health Care Without Harm for environmentally sensitive health care. Her work continues with Blue Vinyl: A Toxic Comedy for the Turn of the Century, about vinyl workers and communities who live in the shadows of the petrochemical industry. To develop and coordinate the public education and organizing associated with that film, Helfand has co-founded Working Films, a new non-profit organization “dedicated to strategically linking filmmaking to long-term social change.” The organization’s objective is to
use independent film and video for social justice. …Our goal is to use documentary films to make a difference on issues of social, economic and civil justice—in the classrooms, in the factories, in the courtrooms and on the streets.
The Uprising of ’34 originated from a request made to Stoney from the “Consortium on the General Textile Strike of 1934,” a loose association of scholars, organizers, and union activists who were interested in labor history and who wanted a film produced on the famous 1934 textile strike. The strike began on Labor Day, involving almost 500,000 workers in twenty-one states from Maine to Alabama, and ended in defeat three weeks later. The members of the Consortium knew the strike was important in Southern labor history but also knew that few people today had heard of it, much less of its violent suppression and continuing legacy. When Helfand joined the project in the summer of 1990, she began systematically tracking down primary source materials, particularly archival materials that could lead to the identification of the strike’s participants. Funding for the film came from a large number of organizations, including the MacArthur Foundation, the Southern Humanities Media Fund, several state humanities councils, a variety of unions, the Mary Reynolds Babcock Foundation, and the Z. Smith Reynolds Foundation, and it was ultimately presented on TV through the Independent Television Service (ITVS).
Labor history has long been suppressed in Southern U.S. culture. To counter the loss of political memory, the film explores the by-now unfamiliar events of 1934 by combining rare archival footage and dozens of contemporary interviews. The strike itself had lasted three weeks, involving hundreds of thousands of cotton mill workers, who were challenging the working conditions in the mills. The film documents the events of the strike but more importantly probes the strike’s incredible disappearance from our historical conscience, especially in the communities in which major events took place.
In the process of developing the project, the filmmakers found themselves involved in a fascinating set of interactions with Southern communities. Armed with videotape of original Fox Movietone newsreel footage, primarily unedited outtakes of the strike, Stoney and Helfand visited some of the strike’s key locations, hoping to refresh memories and generate publicity to gather interviewees for the film.
As documentary filmmakers, we found ourselves in the position of interlocutors–bringing the physical evidence of unionism into the Piedmont towns where it had been forged and then forgotten. The trunk of our rental car was weighed down with proof: cardboard file cabinets, organized by mill and by state, filled with copies of letters from mill workers to the Roosevelt administration demanding that their rights as workers and citizens be protected. We also brought a file full of the only comprehensive collection of photos of the 1934 strike, … For many strike veterans, our visit was the first time that they had seen these pictures and letters.4
The producers then publicized a toll-free number that people could call to volunteer recollections or any information relevant to the film.
Stoney and Helfand approached the project as an example of “participatory filmmaking,” in which all interested parties would take an active part in the filmmaking process. Also from the beginning the filmmakers considered the film’s potential use--this was not to be a film that would be broadcast once on public television and then relegated to the archives. Rather, it was to be useful for local community organizations, union organizers, or educators, and scholars. Stoney and Helfand sought to produce a work that would stimulate real discussions “about labor, class, race, history, power, memory, and shame” According to Stoney, “the primary purpose of [The Uprising of ’34] is to help divided communities come together and talk.”5
Throughout the production process, the filmmakers asked a wide variety of individuals and organizations to become involved. They especially encouraged the cooperation of many individual citizens, particularly former union members and their descendants from small textile communities throughout the Southeastern United States. The producers hoped that this extensive engagement of people in shaping the film’s content would not only improve the film but also give everyone involved greater incentive to use it. Even newspaper reporters were invited to cover the production process. Not only did that presumably increase reporters’ interest in covering the finished film, but newspaper stories also played a role in leading more former mill workers to come forward to speak about the events of 1934.
This extensive collaboration with scholars, activists, and community members continued during the editing stage. The filmmakers held preview screenings of the rough cut in many venues, from meetings of labor groups to scholarly conferences to small-town gatherings. Helfand and Stoney received feedback on the film’s style (too fast, too slow, too confusing) and content (not enough to counteract stereotypes, not enough on race) and on the needs of activists and organizers. These reactions shaped the final editing film—for example, the makers then added a new section on the role of African American service workers in the mill villages.
Producing a political documentary means intervening in an ongoing social and political process. The production process itself may act as a catalyst in different ways. In assessing the impact of this film’s production, I have sought to consider its impact on interviewees, particularly those elderly participants in or observers of strike-related events. For most of these participants, getting involved in the film’s production meant that for the first time they were encouraged to speak about long-suppressed events. As a result, speaking out sometimes had a cathartic or therapeutic effect. Most had never spoken publicly about the events of 1934, and now the film provided a new context in which to understand their experiences, a context of which most were not aware. For some the experience was too painful. As one woman says at the beginning of the film “I ain't got no more to say into it. I've been trying to forget about all of that, and this is just bringing it all back up.”Distributing for change
From the makers’ perspective, distribution started with production. Everyone involved in any way with the production process now became a contact for distribution, since distribution involved the same wide coalition of organizations and individuals. While the filmmakers sought and certainly appreciated getting a mass viewership through television, their primary distribution strategy was get the film out to groups who would most benefit from it. The producers particularly tried to “bring the film back home” to the communities in the Carolinas where the strike occurred. Far from leaving the outreach potential of their film in the hands of a distributor, Stoney and Helfand personally devoted their time to ensure that the film reached the grassroots.
To set up group screenings, local activists and educators created a variety of public spaces in which citizens could encounter the film. Most active were labor organizers, in particular from the Carolina Alliance for Fair Employment (CAFE), South Carolina United Action, Service Employees International Union (SEIU), United Needletrades, Industrial and Textile Employees (UNITE), and Grassroots Leadership. Educators at all levels were also involved, including those in high schools, technical colleges, universities, continuing education, community literacy programs, and museum programming (e.g., Kannapolis, Charlotte). Screenings took place in cultural centers such as the Peace Center in Greenville, malls, community meetings, libraries, national union meetings of both the SEIU and the Conference of National Organizers Alliance, a workshop on labor history in Charleston, religious conventions such as the Quakers Palmetto gathering, and labor meetings such as the Greenwood chapter meeting of CAFE. Groups also donated copies of the film to community and high school libraries in North and South Carolina.
To guide public presentations of the film, Stoney and Helfand promoted an innovative “coalition screening” model. They encouraged presenters to bring together disparate community organizations, including labor unions, peace and justice groups, schools, churches, and other community groups. In Orangeburg SC, for example, when the South Carolina Public Television decided not to broadcast the national P.O.V. feed, a community organizing group, South Carolina United Action, organized a screening at South Carolina State University, co-sponsored by the university History Department and local trade union chapters of the Communication Workers of America, United Auto Workers, and UNITE.
Central to the coalition screening model is the principle of establishing a context for the audience. Because they wanted the film to be a vehicle to promote community discussions about labor issues, the filmmakers specifically tried to avoid casting it simply as a pro-labor film, an “us vs. them” exercise in historical blame. Focused on an historical event, the film does not make any explicit connection to contemporary labor issues. However, the filmmakers assumed that when such a context was provided at a screening where one of the co-sponsors was a union, it would naturally lead an audience to such a discussion. In other contexts, the film could be framed in other ways: as a film on class issues, on gender issues, on issues of historical research (from what perspective is history told?) or on issues related to media literacy.
When the national PBS broadcast aired on June 27, 1995, as part of the P.O.V. series, Stoney and Helfand understood the film might be received by an audience of passive individuals: “P.O.V. is a legitimizing gesture, but it doesn’t have much effect when people see the tape alone, late at night, on television.”6 To counter passive, isolated TV viewership of their work, the filmmakers organized a “Labor to Neighbor” program to get local community groups to utilize the national television feed. In this way, union members might invite their neighbors to come over to watch the national broadcast. Supplied with a discussion guide, they could lead a discussion before and after the broadcast. And the following day, participating union locals could sponsor brown-bag discussions about the members’ experience of sharing labor history with their neighbors.
Drawing on their contacts within the National Organizers Association, Stoney and Helfand identified groups across the nation that might organize such “Labor to Neighbor” viewings. In Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania, for example, one organizer invited the community to gather in a local church after the broadcast to discuss the issues raised. Other events were held in Massachusetts, Montana, North Carolina, and Maine. In New York, Manhattan Cable sponsored a live call-in discussion for hours after the broadcast. In September 1995, Stoney and Helfand promoted a similar program, announcing a “Nation-Wide Labor Day Initiative” with the theme of “Linking the Community to the Classroom.” During that month, they hoped to bring social studies teachers, their students, and working people together to attend screenings and discuss the contemporary relevance of labor history.Assessing impact: activists and social movements
As activist organizations continually struggle to create a public space for a wider discussion of social issues, they often use documentary films to do so. Once a film is produced, organizers and other supportive groups and individuals can show it to create a social space within which citizens can encounter, discuss, and decide to act on similar issues. In his analysis of how media become a resource for social movements, Sidney Tarrow suggests two possible political uses for film—helping new movements gain initial attention or helping “established movements maintain support by bolstering the feeling of status of their members and communicating their activities to their supporters.”7 John Gaventa saw the production process itself as important for activist groups, stimulating greater communication among individuals and organizations and refining the expression of grievances.8 Finally, as the finished film reaches activist groups, it can lead to members’ education and reinvigoration.
For example, one labor activist found that The Uprising of ’34 changed the way she approached organizing. First, she began to make the film the centerpiece of her organizing efforts, which led her to understand how powerful film could be, particularly when narrated by the voices of working-class people similar the ones she was trying to reach. She now sees film as having an important role in creating public spaces for the discussion of controversial issues. Other activists have found that this film uniquely inspires them as it provides them a sense of connection with past activists engaged in the same struggles they are now.
The film also has become part of a region-wide educational process for labor activists in the Southeast. After the film’s inclusive production process allowed many activists to learn for the first time about the events of 1934, they in turn became interested in educating others in the labor movement. Union leaders, including those in SEIU and UNITE, have used the film to give their union members a better sense of the Southeast’s long history of labor activism. Unions have also attempted to use the film to change community attitudes about organized labor’s legitimacy by demonstrating the historical presence and violent suppression of unions in the region. According to Charles Taylor, South Carolina coordinator for CAFE, the film has given labor organizers
the missing piece–something that would explain why there was so much antipathy toward unions, why there were all these rumors about something that happened back in the Thirties. … It gives people a heritage they can be proud of, a heritage they can organize around today.9
As the film has provoked labor activists and historians to undertake further research into events in their own localities, this has led to greater awareness of other strikes and labor activities in the 1930s and after.
Another intriguing effect of the film’s production process and coalition screening model of distribution has been extensive networking among a wide range of activists and organizers. During production, labor historians, union activists, and community members were brought together to explore local history. Often these people had never worked together before and did not even know each other or the organizations that they represented. For the film’s distribution, representatives from activist and community groups came together to discuss the film in public settings. Later organizers and activists could share stories about using the film, and in some cases they formed linkages that carried over into other projects. In 1996, Stoney and Helfand formalized this kind of networking by arranging a conference to examine the film’s impact, bringing together a wide range of activists and educators associated with its production and distribution.Assessing impact: decision makers and elites
Assessing the film’s impact has also led me to consider the extent to which documentary film might affect decision-makers and elites. In this instance, the small town of Honea Path, South Carolina, offers a microcosm in which to examine the film’s effects. Honea Path had seen the most violent confrontation during the 1934 strike in which seven local workers were killed by townspeople deputized to guard the mill from striking protesters. There had been no public discussion of these events for sixty years, but now the film displayed the events and explained their larger context—for all to see.
The film’s production and distribution process led directly to two clear effects in Honea Path. One was a unanimous decision by the Honea Path City Council to authorize construction of a monument for the seven people killed in the strike. That effort to build a monument began with Kathy Lamb, a union worker and a delegate to an Amalgamated Clothing and Textile Workers Union convention in 1992.10 Her roommate went to a workshop called The Uprising of ’34 and brought back news that the speakers had mentioned the killing of seven workers in Honea Path, Lamb’s hometown. Lamb investigated further and found to her surprise that her father had witnessed the events and that her grandfather had testified at the coroner’s inquest. She contacted Stoney and Helfand and ultimately became an important participant in the production of the film. During the filming of one of the segments, she mentioned the idea of building a monument to the dead workers. Later with the support of CAFE and other labor supporters, she received authorization from the Honea Path City Council, located a site in a public park, raised the necessary funds, and organized the dedication of the monument on May 29, 1995.
The other direct effect that the film had in Honea Path was that Frank Beacham, grandson of the 1934 mill superintendent, offered a public apology for the mill’s actions during the strike. Beacham, a journalist living in New York, had not known about the events of the strike until a friend saw the film and told him. When he discovered that his grandfather was the superintendent during the strike, he researched the events and concluded,
My grandfather apparently gave the order to a handful of his favored workers to open fire on a group of their striking co-workers who wanted to organize a union at the mill.11
At the dedication of the public monument, Beacham acknowledged and offered an apology for his grandfather’s role in the events of 1934.
The film’s impact on the textile manufacturing elite is not clear, but publicity about the film’s production may have been responsible for the manufacturers association’s decision to produce a film portraying their own version of regional labor movement history. However, as Stoney suggests, the content of The Uprising of ’34 changed what all subsequent films must include about events during this time—the work “stretchouts,” strikes, and race, class, and gender relations.
Film screenings have also made linkages between established institutions and working-class citizens. The Mint Museum in Charlotte, North Carolina, for example, used the film to reach out to working-class citizens to begin an ongoing connection with a part of the community that normally does not attend museum events. The film also opened up avenues for activist groups to work with museums and other “mainstream” community cultural institutions and individuals. For example, many people in Greenville, South Carolina, were amazed to see the major cultural center in that city host a film on labor history.
Finally, we should note mainstream media’s reaction to the film. The film’s extensive involvement of people in the production process and its distribution through local screenings and television broadcasts provided a “news hook” for reporters to write about labor history. Initial coverage by some regional newspapers served to legitimate the story, so that it was picked up by other papers that have been historically more resistant to presenting labor history, such as the Greenville (NC) News. Stoney and Helfand purposely engaged reporters from the very beginning of the production process, in part because they hoped that early publicity would bring forth more interviewees for the film. They also assumed that if the press covered the process of making the film, reporters would have more of a stake in covering screenings later on.
More interesting than the press coverage of the film itself, however, is the question of whether or not the film might stimulate a more general change in press coverage of labor history. In the process of covering a story about the film, at a newspaper like the Greenville News, reporters sought out as sources individuals whom they had rarely talked to before—local labor organizers, current and retired mill workers, and labor historians. Because so many people appeared in the film, it essentially “dumped sources into laps of reporters.” The general respect accorded the film’s historical accuracy meant that these people could not be simply dismissed as vehicles for pro-union propaganda.12 Some observers have suggested (and a systematic content analysis might reveal) that these contacts with the press, once made, changed the paper’s subsequent coverage of labor unions and labor issues in which stories might more likely include the perspectives of labor organizers and workers themselves.Assessing impact: citizens
Finally, we come to what is often the only focus for sociologists when discussing a film’s social impact: the film’s effect on citizens—ordinary, mainstream, working-class or middle-class citizens. In fact, a full assessment of that kind for this film would require much more information than is available. No one has conducted surveys of audience members for The Uprising of ’34 using pre-tests and post-tests assessing their knowledge, attitudes, and behavior. So I can offer only some informed speculations.
Once again Honea Path offers a microcosm to consider. What is most striking is how the film’s production and distribution stimulated public discussion of long-suppressed historical events. When a local radio talk show program took up the topic, almost all of the callers expressed gratitude that the events surrounding the strike were finally being discussed. The same radio station broadcast the ceremony dedicating the civic memorial. What these radio programs suggest is that the film’s impact on ordinary citizens goes beyond the immediate effects of viewership to encompass people’s participating in discussions stimulated by the film, whether they had seen the film or not.
What was the impact of the film and the public discussion it elicited on the citizens of Honea Path? Did they learn more about the events of 1934? Presumably they did. Starting from little private and no public acknowledgment of the strike, the town’s citizens heard extensive discussions of the historical events. Did this initiate a “healing process” for the families of the striking workers? Certainly some of the families were pleased and relieved that these events were finally publicly explained and acknowledged. For example, the events surrounding the dedication of the monument, inscribed with the names of those killed in 1934, served to highlight in a very personal way the losses experienced by local families. Did people gain more knowledge about labor history in the Southeast? As the film put the events of Honea Path in the context of the broad labor movement in the 1930s, it provided contemporary discussions about unions with a clearer historical reference point. Did attitudes toward unions change? Perhaps some, but apparently not much. Attitudinal change happens over a longer term and does not usually come about as the product of a single dramatic intervention.
These same questions, of course, might be asked of other citizens. What about citizens in Idaho, who watched Southern labor history on PBS while sitting alone in their living rooms? What about high school students who saw this film at 8:30 a.m. in their tenth grade social studies class? Do they gain greater awareness? Are they mobilized? In a few cases, exposure to the film stimulated individual citizens to research how their own community was affected by the 1934 strike, which in turn led to awareness of other strikes and labor union activity in the 1930s and later.
There may be more generalized effects. Films may facilitate a process of transformation. A film is an intervention, and changes in understanding are produced that may have continuing effects. For example, the public screening of the film in Orangeburg, South Carolina, organized by a coalition of community organizations had the immediate effect of creating a public forum in which white and African-American citizens discussed racial issues--a notable event in a community that seldom has such discussions. Significantly organizers also credited this event, both the discussion itself and the networking among organizations that produced it, with an increase in community interest in civil rights discussions.Conclusion
I have suggested that the wide-ranging effects of the production and distribution of The Uprising of ’34 make it the “perfect” example to use as a basis for analyzing the impact of documentary film. And what can be concluded? At one extreme, I have found no examples at all of audience members “taking to the streets” after watching the film. At the other extreme, I have encountered numerous assertions about how the film “changed people’s perceptions” and “increased awareness” of Southeast labor history. Most important, however, I have found that to explore a film’s full range of impact requires analyzing the entire filmmaking process, its larger political context, and discourse communities outside the mainstream. In large part because of the coalition model of filmmaking advocated by its producers, The Uprising of ’34 has had substantial impact on participants, activist groups, decision makers, and citizens.
Most documentary filmmakers are concerned about the impact of their work; activists and educators seem increasingly aware of the potential impact of documentary film; and resources for media outreach have expanded considerably. What is missing is an understanding of how to create the most effective models for coalition-based media production and distribution. Filmmakers need to know more about how to engage with activist groups interested in the topics of their films and how to use community educators and organizers as resources. Community educators and organizers need to know more about how to create a context for screenings that will most effectively raise political issues. This analysis of The Uprising of ‘34 represents an initial attempt to summarize the range of impact set in motion by one model of coalition filmmaking. Additional research, examining other coalition models and employing the broadest possible framework to analyze impact, will continue to enhance our understanding of the most effective avenues for using documentary film to produce social change.13Notes
1. See Jane Gaines (1999). “Political Mimesis.” In Jane Gaines and Michael Renov (eds.). Collecting Visible Evidence (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press) 89-90.
2. Waugh, Thomas, editor. “Show Us Life:” Toward a History and Aesthetics of the Committed Documentary (Metuchen, NJ: Scarecrow Press, 1984) xiv.
3. See Barbara Abrash and David Whiteman (1999). “The Uprising of ‘34: Filmmaking as Community Engagement.” Wide Angle 21(2):87-99.
4. Helfand, Judith. “The Uprising of ‘34,” Point, September 1994, 12 & 18.
5. Leggat, Graham. “George Stoney and Judith Helfand, Documentary Activists,” The Independent, October 1995, 16-17.
6. George Stoney, quoted in Leggat.
7. Tarrow, Sidney. Power in Movement: Social Movements, Collective Action and Politics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994) 127.
8. Gaventa, John. Power and Powerlessness: Quiescence and Rebellion in an Appalachian Valley (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1980) 223.
9. Helfand, Judith. “At the Grassroots: An Interview with Charles Taylor.” Three Years Later: The Uprising of ’34 to Air on South Carolina Public Television (New York: Hard Times Productions, 1998) 17-20.
10. Lamb, Kathy. “The Uprising of ’34 and the Impact on a Southern Town.” Three Years Later: The Uprising of ’34 to Air on South Carolina Public Television (New York: Hard Times Productions, 1998) 9-14.
11. Beacham, Frank. “The History Lesson of a Lifetime.” Three Years Later: The Uprising of ’34 to Air on South Carolina Public Television (New York: Hard Times Productions, 1998) 15-16.
12. Bates, Eric. “Making the News.” Three Years Later: The Uprising of ’34 to Air on South Carolina Public Television (New York: Hard Times Productions, 1998) 5-8.
13. Whiteman, David. “Reassessing the Impact of Documentary Film: Filmmakers, Activist Community Organizations, and Public Policy.” Paper presented at annual meeting of Visible Evidence, Los Angeles, California, August 19-22, 1999.