Steel-Sax Music Pub ASCAP

Steel-Sax Music Pub ASCAP Ascap music publishing company run and owned by John Heinrich. Music publishing company run through ASCAP....based out of Nashville, Tennessee USA.

There should never be a charge to publish a song.

With Maurice Gilliard – I just got recognized as one of their top fans! 🎉
01/30/2026

With Maurice Gilliard – I just got recognized as one of their top fans! 🎉

01/19/2026

Enjoy the videos and music you love, upload original content, and share it all with friends, family, and the world on YouTube.

They Locked the Doors. The Fire Did the Rest.Before dawn on March 5, 1959, seventy Black boys went to sleep believing th...
01/15/2026

They Locked the Doors. The Fire Did the Rest.

Before dawn on March 5, 1959, seventy Black boys went to sleep believing they would wake up to another day of punishment disguised as “rehabilitation.” By sunrise, twenty-one of them were dead.

This did not happen in a war zone.
It did not happen in secret.
It happened at the Negro Boys Industrial School in Wrightsville, Arkansas, just fifteen minutes south of Little Rock.

Sixty-nine African American boys, ages 13 to 17, were padlocked inside their dormitory for the night. The doors were locked from the outside. The windows were barred. Around 4:00 a.m., a fire broke out in the wooden structure. What followed was panic, smoke, and the sound of boys clawing for air in a place designed to keep them contained.

Forty-eight escaped. Twenty-one did not.

Most of the boys held there were not violent offenders. Many were homeless. Some were locked up for pranks, truancy, or simply being poor and Black in the Jim Crow South. This was a “school” in name only. In reality, it was a warehouse for children society did not want to see.

The conditions were brutal. The dormitory was overcrowded, with boys sleeping barely a foot apart. There were no proper bathrooms, only a bucket in the corner. The building was old, underfunded, and neglected. Safety was not a concern because their lives were not a concern.

That morning, rain from earlier thunderstorms still soaked the ground. The fire’s origin was never conclusively explained. What was clear is that when it started, the boys had no way out. The locks meant to control them became death sentences. The nation briefly paid attention.

Newspapers described the tragedy. Officials expressed regret. Investigations were promised. But no one was held criminally responsible for locking children inside a flammable building overnight. No system was dismantled. No justice was delivered.

What the fire did expose was a truth Black families had always known: institutions built for Black children under segregation were designed to contain, not protect. Discipline mattered more than life. Order mattered more than safety.
The irony is almost unbearable.

Today, the land where the school once stood is home to the Arkansas Department of Correction Wrightsville Unit. A site that once caged Black boys now cages Black men. The pipeline did not disappear. It simply aged.

For sixty years, there was no marker. No public acknowledgment. No names etched in stone. In 2019, a plaque was finally placed to commemorate the boys who died that night. Six decades of silence for children who never made it home.

Because this was not an accident in isolation. It was the predictable outcome of a system that treated Black childhood as disposable. A system that confused punishment with care. A system that believed locks were more important than exits.

Those boys had names.
They had families.
They had futures stolen before they were old enough to vote, drive, or be heard.

12/31/2025

Why Patton Wanted to Attack the Soviets in 1945 - The Warning Eisenhower Refused to Hear
On May 7th, 1945, while church bells rang across Europe and American soldiers poured into the streets to celebrate the end of the most devastating war in human history, one man sat in silence, his mind already fixed on the next catastrophe he believed was coming. General George S. Patton was not celebrating Germany’s surrender. He was preparing to issue a warning that would cost him his command, his reputation, and perhaps even his life.

Across from him sat Supreme Allied Commander Dwight D. Eisenhower, calm, composed, already thinking about peace, demobilization, and a grateful nation ready to move on. The two men were in a commandeered German mansion outside Frankfurt, surrounded by the ruins of the Third Reich. The war in Europe had officially ended only hours earlier. For Eisenhower, it was the culmination of years of coalition-building and careful diplomacy. For Patton, it was merely the end of the opening act.

Patton broke the silence first.

“We’re going to have to fight them eventually,” he said. “Let’s do it now—while our army is intact and we can win.”

He wasn’t talking about the Germans.

He was talking about the Soviet Union.

Eisenhower stared at him in disbelief. For three years, he had worked tirelessly to hold together an uneasy alliance with the Soviets, an alliance that had been absolutely essential to defeating Hi**er. The American public adored “Uncle Joe” Stalin. Newspapers praised the Red Army as heroic liberators who had borne the heaviest cost of the war. And now Patton was proposing that the United States turn its guns on its ally—immediately.

“George,” Eisenhower replied carefully, “you don’t understand politics. The war is over. We’re going home.”

In that moment, Patton realized something chilling. Eisenhower understood exactly what he was saying. Eisenhower knew there was truth in it. But Eisenhower also knew that nothing would be done.

That silence—measured, calculated, and final—would echo for decades.

Patton had identified the Soviet threat before Washington would admit it existed. He had proposed a military solution at the one moment when it might have been feasible. And he was ignored by leaders who valued public opinion, political survival, and diplomatic optimism over brutal strategic reality.

Patton’s Third Army had driven deeper into Germany than any other Allied force. His tanks had crossed into Czechoslovakia. His forward units were within striking distance of Berlin. And everywhere his army went, Patton saw something that filled him with dread: the Red Army.

American officers who encountered Soviet forces in Eastern Europe were shocked by what they witnessed. Patton’s intelligence briefings described mass rapes, systematic looting, and summary executions of civilians suspected of anti-communist sympathies. Entire communities vanished overnight, loaded onto trains bound for Soviet labor camps. Resistance fighters who had battled the N***s for years were arrested and shot once the Soviets arrived.

In April 1945, Patton wrote to his wife Beatrice with a frankness that stunned even those who knew his temperament. He admitted he had no desire to understand the Russians except to determine “how much lead or iron it takes to kill them.” They gave him, he said, “the impression of something that is to be feared in future world political reorganization.”

What Patton was seeing on the ground contradicted everything American diplomats wanted to believe. The Soviet Union was not a temporary ally fighting for shared ideals. It was a totalitarian empire expanding westward under the cover of victory.

Patton met American prisoners of war liberated from Soviet custody, men who said they had been treated worse than they were under the Germans. Soviet soldiers stripped them of watches, boots, and food. Officers who protested were beaten. Some were shot. Reports piled up: factories dismantled and shipped to Russia, communist puppet governments installed in Poland, Romania, Hungary, and Bulgaria, anti-communist leaders arrested and executed.

By May 1945, Patton was no longer venting frustration. He had developed a coherent military plan.

His assessment was cold and analytical. The Red Army had lost an estimated 27 million people defeating Germany. Its forces in Eastern Europe were exhausted, spread thin, and dependent on captured supplies. Their supply lines stretched thousands of miles back into the Soviet Union. American forces, by contrast, were at peak strength, fully supplied, and enjoyed overwhelming air superiority.

“We could beat the Russians in six weeks,” Patton told Under Secretary of War Robert Patterson.

The Soviet Union had no strategic bombing capability. Its anti-aircraft defenses were minimal. American air power could devastate Soviet logistics almost at will. Soviet tanks were numerous but worn down by years of relentless combat. American M4 Shermans, though less heavily armored, were reliable and available in enormous numbers.

Most importantly, Patton believed Soviet morale was brittle. Red Army soldiers had been told they were liberating their homeland—not conquering Eastern Europe. Many, he believed, would surrender or desert if faced with American forces.

Then came the most controversial part of his proposal.

“We can arm the Germans,” Patton argued. Hundreds of thousands of Wehrmacht soldiers would rather fight the Soviets than rot in prison camps. To Patton, it was a ruthless but logical calculation.

Washington was horrified.....Don’t stop here — full text is in the first comment! 👇

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11/26/2025

https://gofund.me/1e80eaeeb

Tim and Roxane Atwood have spent their entire professional lives supporting c… Sherri Forrest needs your support for Support Tim and Roxane's Road to Recovery

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