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This article proposes a new reading for Germaine Dieterlen's classic text “The Mande Creation Myth,” and presents it as evidence for Kangaba's prominent military role as ruler of the Niger and defender of the gold mines that for centuries provided the wealth of the Mali Empire. It is demonstrated that, although Dieterlen was in search of a unified cosmology, her informants in Kangaba provided answers that voiced Kangaba's military concerns and claims as political heir of the medieval Mali Empire and ruler of the River Niger. The starting point of the analysis are new insights on how creation is envisioned in the West African savannah, with an emphasis on termite mounds, earth, and blacksmiths. These insights are compared to the fieldwork data that Dieterlen collected in 1953-55, which she used in 1955 for a publication on the Kamabolon ceremony in Kangaba and, under strikingly different personal circumstances, in 1957 in the article “The Mande Creation Myth.” The article explains why Dieterlen herself nor other researchers have never been able to reproduce neither her 1953-55 findings nor her 1957 findings by pointing to Kangaba's raised prestige as a major historical site for a new Republic of Mali, which had acquired independence in 1960. Kangaba's new position replaced the earlier focus on military rule on the Niger and defense of gold mines (in what had become the Republic of Guinée in 1958). This argument is substantiated by a recently discovered contemporary report of the 1961 Kamabolon ceremony, written by a leading contemporary intellectual, Mambi Sidibé.

When David Montgomery sat down for an extended interview with editors of the Radical History Review, Mark Naison and Paul Buhle, it was the spring of 1981. His career as an academic historian was on the ascent. He had moved from the University of Pittsburgh to a named chair at Yale. He was editor of what was becoming the foremost journal in the field, International Labor and Working-Class History. His studies of workers and Reconstruction and his explorations of workers' shop floor world had catapulted him to the front rank of practitioners of the “new labor history.” And he was deeply into what would probably rank as his masterwork, The Fall of the House of Labor, published six years later. But much of the interview as published dwelt on his background in the Communist Party USA and on his own shop floor experience as a militant rank and file machinist during the 1950s. His observations on the internal life of the party, as someone who did not hold a leadership position, were perceptive. But perhaps more telling for his own future work as a historian were his comments on the growing gap in the 1950s between the party and lives of workers. Vital as the “connection to the everyday struggles of Americans” may have been, he also recognized the value of “styles of social analysis that were rooted in the hard and complex realities of experience and away from phrase-mongering and dogmatic abstractions.” As the party unraveled in the 1950s and the leadership grew more isolated, he noted, “at my level of activity we continued from day to day doing our thing”