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by Lydia Gans

For close to 30 years, MichaelDiehl has walked through thestreets and parks of Berkeley,connecting with people, talking,

listening, and just being present. Many ofthe people he reaches out to are homelessor inadequately housed. They may be sit-ting alone and sometimes have unexpect-ed outbursts of anger and violence.

They are people who need help buthave given up asking or expecting help.Or they may be people who are deeplyconcerned about political or social justiceissues and are looking to engage with oth-ers in community action.

I often see Michael Diehl in PeoplesPark and downtown Berkeley, talkingwith the street people, the young and theold, and it is clear that they respect andtrust him. He works for BOSS (BuildingOpportunities for Self-Sufficiency) as acommunity organizer. People who haveworked with him and know him wellspeak of him with great admiration.

Janny Castillo is a community organiz-

er at St. Mary’s Center who used to workat BOSS for many years. She told me, “Iworked with Michael Diehl for 12 yearsand he is such an inspiration to every per-son who wants to be a community orga-nizer because his heart is always with thepeople. There is not a moment when theirpriorities and their needs don’t come first.It has been my pleasure to work alongbeside him. He has been my mentor androle model for a very long time.”

The recently retired executive directorof BOSS, boona chema, said, “I have beena student of the wisdom that Michaelholds about mental illness and trauma —my dear friend who taught me fearless-ness and kept me honest in my work withpeople less resourced.”

I’ve watched Michael calmly dealingwith troubled people and defusing stress-ful situations. I wanted to get to know thisman with the bushy beard and readysmile. I felt I could learn a lot from him.

His job title is community organizer, buthe says, “It seems to be more peer out-

by Terry Messman

Considering how many times theorganizers and activists of theFreedom Movement were jailedall across the nation during the

hard-fought struggle for civil rights, SanBruno County Jail seems a fitting place tocelebrate a renewal of Martin Luther King’svision of nonviolent social change.

As our small delegation entered the jailto hold a graduation ceremony for nine pris-oners who had completed intensive train-ings in Kingian Nonviolence, I felt a pro-found sense of history on the move. For aswe walked down the long corridors of thejail, we were led by Bernard LaFayette, aclose associate of Martin Luther King, Jr.and an internationally respected authorityon Kingian Nonviolence.

LaFayette’s personal march throughhistory has taken him from organizing thedisenfranchised black residents of Selma,Alabama, prevented from voting by a bru-tal system of racism, to his present-daytrainings in Kingian Nonviolence withdisenfranchised prisoners in jails.

LaFayette was chosen by MartinLuther King to be the national coordinatorof the Poor People’s Campaign in 1968.And he was with Dr. King in the LorraineMotel in Memphis on the morning ofApril 4, 1968, the day King was murderedin Memphis. In a very real sense,

LaFayette is present at San Bruno jail tohonor King’s very last words to him.

On King’s last morning on earth, hetold LaFayette: “Now, Bernard, the nextmovement we’re going to have is to insti-tutionalize and internationalize nonvio-lence.” During the decades since King’smurder, LaFayette has spent his life tryingto carry the message of KingianNonviolence to the world, training social-change activists in far-flung nations, set-

ting up peace studies in universities andteaching nonviolence inside jail cells.

As we entered a large complex of jailcells that houses about 50 prisoners, Inoticed that Theresa Guy Moran, an attor-ney trained in Kingian Nonviolence, wascarrying a book with a cover photo of ayoung Bernard LaFayette standing side byside with Martin Luther King. The book,In Peace and Freedom, My Journey inSelma, is an illuminating case study of the

brilliant strategies and costly sacrifices ittook to win voting rights on the bloodystreets of Selma, Alabama.

When several young prisoners realizedthat LaFayette was, in truth, the same manstanding next to Dr. King in the book’scover photo, they immediately expresseddeep respect and gratitude to LaFayettefor his work for civil rights in Selma.

His Heart Is with thePeople on the Street

“Michael is such an inspiration to every person who wants to be a community organizer because his heart is always with the people.” — Janny Castillo

Michael Diehl has been active on the streets of Berkeley for 30 years. Lydia Gans photoSee His Heart Is with the People page 11

The Long March from Selma to San Bruno

A graduation in nonviolence for men in San Bruno jail. At right (in suits) are Gus Newport, Bernard LaFayette and Kazu Haga.

See A Long March from Selma page 8

July 2014ST R E E T SP I R I T2

Story and photos by Mike Rhodes

Fresno Police Sergeant RobertDewey has produced a powerpoint presentation that identifiesPastor Chris Breedlove of the

College Community CongregationalChurch as a leader in a resistance move-ment to stop the demolition of the GrainSilo homeless encampment in Fresno. Thepresentation, shown to several communitygroups, identifies the Brown Berets as the“muscle” behind the struggle to stopFresno officials from destroying thishomeless encampment.

Breedlove says he felt concerned bythe tone of the presentation. In a slideentitled “The Final Line in the Sand!” theFresno Police Department (FPD) claimedthat there were “12-15 advocates on hand,intermixed with members of the BrownBerets for ‘muscle.’”

The slide goes on to say that the groupwas “led by Pastor Chris Breedlove of theCollege Community CongregationalChurch.” Breedlove said he was “out-raged, intimidated, and concerned that acitizen not charged of any crime, and notunder any investigation, could be namedand listed in a public document by theFresno Police Department in what is tan-tamount to a smear campaign or beingproscribed.”

Novella Coleman, an American CivilLiberties Union (ACLU) staff attorney inFresno, would not comment aboutwhether the characterization of Breedloveamounted to defamation, but did say that“the City has an unfortunate history ofviolating the rights of homeless personsby confiscating and destroying their prop-erty. So it is troubling that the City maybe targeting local advocates who seek tohold the City accountable during these so-called cleanups.”

According to Breedlove, it is intimidat-ing to be targeted by the police as theleader of a lawless group. He said, “Iworry about how my future efforts, issues,and ministries will be adversely impactedby my congregation and myself beingnegatively branded by the FPD in such apublic way. I also worry about the well-

being of my family. What if we needed anemergency response by the FPD? Is therea bias among the FPD against progres-sives such as myself? Is there a specificFPD bias toward my ministry?”

Mario Manganiello, who is associatedwith, but not a member of the BrownBerets, was at the Grain Silo homelessencampment during the demolition men-tioned in the FPD power point presenta-tion. Manganiello said that the BrownBerets did not organize a presence therethat day and is upset that the FPD is por-traying them as some kind of violentgang.

“They are saying that we were the‘muscle’ and pushing for violence andthat is absolutely not true,” Manganiellosaid. “My concern is that, with that word-ing, they are trying to say we are trying topromote violence or encourage other peo-ple to be violent towards the FPD.”

“But, our stance has always beenpeaceful at rallies and marches and we arenot a violent organization. We are fornonviolent peaceful protests.”

Ralphy Avita, a member of the FresnoBrown Berets, said, “I am afraid that theFPD will do as was done in the ‘60s and

Homeless Advocates Targeted by Fresno Police

Fresno Police Department Sergeant Robert Dewey (left) orders American Civil Liberties Union organizer and CommunityAlliance board member Pam Whalen to move back, as she documents the demolition of the Grain Silo homeless encampment.

Pastor Chris Breedlove spoke out against Fresno Mayor Swearengin and CityManager Rudd when police began destroying every homeless encampment in town.

See Fresno Advocates Targeted page 3

Fresno officials demolishedevery encampment anddestroyed tons of homelesspeople’s belongings. TheFresno Police Departmentwill not allow any homelessencampments to re-emerge.

Pastor Chris Breedlove said he was “outraged, intimidat-ed, and concerned that a citizen not charged of any crime”could be subjected to “what is tantamount to a smear cam-paign” by the Fresno Police Department.

by Linda Ellen Lemaster

The Santa Cruz County Chapterof the American Civil LibertiesUnion voted to adopt aStatement of Principle at its

most recent board meeting, in support of aproposed time-limited camping ban mora-torium in the City of Santa Cruz.

The camping ban moratorium repre-sents a step across the chasm betweenpeople experiencing homelessness and theneighbors and governmental systems thatrail against their very presence.

“Our ACLU chapter is moving towarda more progressive agenda,” said StevePleich, vice chair, who has been advocat-ing for a closer examination of the sleep-ing/camping ban ordinance, at least sincethe Occupy Movement began its localgrowing pains.

Rough sleepers and activists believethe camping ban is a bad law because itcriminalizes public nighttime sleeping, anecessity to survive. Outdoor sleeping isbanned everywhere in Santa Cruz.

Housing NOW Santa Cruz believesthat because such bans are part of a sys-tem used to criminalize homelessness,intentional or not, it is unconstitutional,and too easily used to selectively enforce,in the same way a loitering ticket is.

Many local residents claim that with-out such an ordinance our police would beunable to regulate the growing numbers oftravelers and homeless people who areforced to sleep outdoors in the absence ofsufficient shelter options.

The ACLU voted for this moratoriumafter a groundswell of support. Homelesspeople, several activists from HomelessUnited for Friendship and Freedom, and

former Occupy members spoke during thechapter’s public comment time.

Housing NOW Santa Cruz believesthat a time-limited moratorium on thesleeping ban ordinance would put theseassumptions to the test.

Because such patterns of enforcementand impacts of criminalization are finallymaking their way into higher courts in thisnation, support from our ACLU foraddressing the sleeping and camping bancouldn’t come at a better time.

Other chapters are also examininglocal problems regarding the criminaliza-tion of homelessness, and the regionalACLU conference in Sacramento in Aprilincluded a workshop on California’s his-tory of criminalizing homelessness.

For further information about the work ofthe ACLU on this issue, please contact StevePleich at spleich@gmail.com.

Sleep Moratorium Gains Support in Santa CruzACLU SANTA CRUZ

STATEMENT OF PRINCIPLE“The Santa Cruz County Chapter of

the American Civil Liberties Union sup-ports in principle a limited time morato-rium on enforcement of camping banlaws and ordinances within the City andCounty of Santa Cruz on the groundsthat such laws and ordinances selective-ly criminalize the homeless community.

“While the chapter is mindful thatsuch a moratorium raises practical prob-lems within the community at large, webelieve that the benefits of such anapproach in terms of the opportunity forcivic leaders, policy makers and stake-holders to reassess the efficacy of theselaws and ordinances outweighs any tem-porary adverse impact.”

July 2014 ST R E E T SP I R I T 3

‘70s with the more left-wing radicalgroups such as the Black Panther Partyand classify us as the ‘bad civil rightsgroups’ and thus discredit us. I am hope-ful that in this age of the Internet we canfight back against such a characterization.

“Our youth are better equipped to fightwith a smart phone than with a gun, as‘Anonymous’ has demonstrated. Sounless we allow them to manipulate ourimage we still have a chance to win thepublic’s trust.”

Speaking about the role of the BrownBerets in the community, Avita said it is“to organize, educate and serve the com-munities who are oppressed. Unlike pastberet organizations, we are not nationalis-tic, homophobic, sexist, or conforming toinstitutions who would oppress others.Also, unlike most groups, we do supportthe people’s right to self defense and thuswill not consider ourselves nonviolent.”

Responding to a California PublicRecords Act request, the Fresno PoliceDepartment provided the CommunityAlliance with a version of the power pointpresentation that did not include the infor-mation that offended Breedlove and theBrown Berets. Sergeant Dewey, who pro-duced the presentation, “An Overview ofour Mission, Accomplishments andGoals,” says he changed the references toBreedlove and the Brown Berets, somephotos, and other minor details.

Dewey said he had reason to believethat Breedlove was the leader of thehomeless advocate group, because he hadpreviously held a press conference on theissue and had negotiated with the attorneyrepresenting the City of Fresno about theGrain Silo homeless encampment. Headded that the information has beenremoved from the power point presenta-tion and if Breedlove is upset he willapologize to him.

“I would apologize to PastorBreedlove, to say that if that is not whatwas going on, if that was an assumption Imade that was wrong, I apologize,”Sergeant Dewey said. “I did take it out. Ihad been told by one or two other peoplethat maybe it should be a little moregeneric. That is why I decided to go aheadand change it.”

The Brown Berets did not have anorganized presence at the Grain Silohomeless encampment on the day of thedemolition, but they also caught the atten-tion of Dewey and the FPD.

Dewey said, “As far as the muscle, wedid recognize people that we had seen inthe past that were wearing obvious brownhandkerchiefs and brown berets. I havedone some dignitary protection in the pastand I know what it looks like when oneperson is protecting others. That is what itappeared to us as.”

Manganiello said the purpose of thegroup he was with on that day was to givethe homeless enough time to move theirproperty. “We were able to stall them (theCity of Fresno) for a long enough time sothe homeless could put their belongingsinto storage, so that was the ultimate out-come,” Manganiello said.

Sergeant Dewey saw the situation differ-ently. “As a law enforcement officer, I can’tallow that. I can’t allow somebody else tocontrol the tempo on a scene that I’m sup-posed to be in control of. The fact of thematter is that we had a trespassing issue.”

About the characterization of theBrown Berets as being the muscle, Deweysaid, “If they are upset about this, I apolo-gize. I will apologize to their face if theywant me to speak to them. I’ve got noproblem with that.”

During the demolition of the Grain Silohomeless encampment on October 23,2013, Breedlove took video footage,including a scene where he asked an on-duty police officer for his name and badgenumber. The officer ignored the request.

ACLU attorney Coleman, citingCalifornia Penal Code § 830.10, said that“any uniformed peace officer shall wear abadge, nameplate, or other device whichbears clearly on its face the identificationnumber or name of the officer.”

Dewey says that Police OfficerNicholas El-Helou was on duty andshould have identified himself, but didn’tbecause he was in plain clothes and toldnot to “engage” unless there were prob-lems. Dewey said he is confident that thisproblem will not be repeated.

Dewey shows the power point presen-tation to community groups in an effort toexplain the dynamics taking place at theFPD as part of the City of Fresno’s workto end homelessness. He says that he ini-tially saw the role of the FPD HomelessTask Force as eliminating the encamp-ments and then stopping them from re-emerging.

“We can’t just ignore the underlyingissue of the fact that we still have thishuge homeless population that hasnowhere to go,” Dewey said.

“We very quickly evolved from, ‘OK,let’s move these people along and keepthe streets clean.’ That was easy! I trulythink that was the easy part. That is whatwe do, we are cops, right? The hard partwas, but what do we do now? What do wedo after the dust is settled? We quicklytransitioned into social work and that is avery difficult hat for us to wear.”

There is a recognition by Dewey andother members of the FPD Homeless TaskForce that they will not succeed by tradi-tional police methods alone. They do citestatistics like the 1,333 shopping cartsthey have removed, 125 felony arrests,and 266 new homeless encampments theyhave cleared, but they get more excitedtalking about the one-on-one encountersthat have led to homeless people gettingthe help they need to get off the streets.

Members of the FPD Homeless TaskForce have no professional training associal workers. Their “tough love”approach to ending homelessness has seri-ous limitations, and the sometimes awk-ward encounters with homeless advocatesmakes them a less than ideal group to beon the front line in the City of Fresno’sapproach to ending homelessness.

Pastor Breedlove said, “It is truly acomplex and devastating human rightsproblem of suffering. Individual citizens

need to be engaged. Communities of faithneed to be involved. But, elected officialscannot abdicate their elected responsibili-ty on this issue as well. There needs to bea multifaceted approach for such a prob-lem of immense complexity.”

“Housing First initiatives are oneapproach, but that alone will not be a totalremedy. Advocates have detailed what anorganized, safe and secure campsitewould involve; but such sincere offers ofcollaboration have been ignored by allcity council members and county board ofsupervisor’s members to date.

“Fresno Mayor Ashley Swearengin andCity Manager Bruce Rudd only exacer-bate the lives of homeless people bydemolishing their communities. Somewithin the religious fabric of Fresnobelieve that homeless advocates shouldcollaborate with the city toward solutions.I’m of the mindset that it’s difficult to col-laborate with an administration that sendsbulldozers and intimidating task forcesbarreling down on a person that you’retrying to help. The City of Fresno firstneeds to halt harmful and costly policiestoward the homeless.”

Mike Rhodes is a writer and photograph-er for the Fresno Community Alliance news-paper. Contact mikerhodes@comcast.net

from page 2

The City of Fresno destroyed tons of homeless people’s belongings at this and several other encampments in the downtownarea. The new policy, enforced by the Fresno Police Department, is to allow no homeless encampments to re-emerge.

Homeless advocates in Fresno were willing to risk arrest to stop the City of Fresno from taking homeless people's property. Their banner declares: “How to deal with the homeless problem. TRY THE GOLDEN RULE.” Pictured from left to right:Bev Fitzpatrick, Mario Manganiello, Dixie Salazar, and Nancy Waidtlow.

Fresno Advocates Targeted by Police

July 2014ST R E E T SP I R I T4

by David Bacon

Under the Fourth Amendment,the people of the United Statesare not supposed to be subjectto random and arbitrary stops

and searches. But within 100 miles of aU.S. border, these rules don’t apply.

Last July, a worker phoned AlejandroValenzuela, a young staff member at theSouthside Workers Center in Tucson,Arizona. The police were at his home, theworker said, and were detaining him fordeportation. Valenzuela and a frienddrove over to observe and “to make surehis rights were being respected.”

Over the next half hour the police grewincreasingly hostile, demanding identifi-cation from Valenzuela, despite the factthat he was not driving the car, which wasparked at the curb. They then detainedValenzuela and the worker.

Police then drove the two to BorderPatrol headquarters. Neither was everarrested or accused of a crime.Valenzuela was detained and intensivelyquestioned for five hours, and finallyreleased only when he could show hequalified for Deferred Action, whichallows undocumented young people(DREAMers) to apply for deferred depor-tation and work authorization. The workerwas eventually deported.

“On the street we get stopped andquestioned because of the way we look,”Valenzuela charges. “It’s racial profiling.”

THE ACLU FILES SUIT

On his behalf, the American CivilLiberties Union filed the first challenge tosection 2B of Arizona’s infamous SB 1070— the “Show me your papers” law, whichwent into effect in September 2012, andauthorizes police to enforce immigrationlaw. The ACLU argues it “unconstitutional-ly authorizes and encourages illegal policepractices ... the South Tucson police offi-cers’ actions amounted to false arrest, vio-lated Alex’s right to equal protection of thelaw and trampled his right to be free fromunreasonable seizures.”

Tucson is 60 miles from the Mexicanborder, within a 100-mile zone whereimmigration authorities say important dueprocess rights can be suspended.

“SB 1070 interacts with this 100-milearea to enable these rights violations,”explains James Lyall, ACLU staff attor-ney in Tucson. “It’s easy for police to stoppeople on a pretext, detain them longerthan permitted, and turn them over to theBorder Patrol.”

The Valenzuela suit was one of thefirst actions taken by the ACLU BorderLitigation Project, launched to documentand litigate civil and human rights caseson the U.S. Mexico border. Outside ofcommunities like Tucson, the existence ofa 100-mile “Constitution-free zone” is notwell known. “There, the longstandingview [established in court rulings] is thatthe normal rules do not apply,” accordingto the ACLU. “For example, the authori-ties do not need a warrant or probablecause to conduct a ‘routine search.’”

As of 2008, the zone potentially cov-ered a staggering 197.4 million people —two-thirds of the U.S. population, includ-ing nine of the country’s 10 largest cities.

In Arizona, the impact is magnified byfederal enforcement and state legislation.Isabel Garcia, legal defender for PimaCounty (which includes Tucson), explains,“In Arizona we’ve become a laboratory forevery kind of anti-immigrant, anti-human[rights] piece of legislation.”

She points to Proposition 100 thatamended the state constitution inNovember 2006 to permit the detentionwithout bail of any undocumented immi-grant accused of a felony. Under state leg-islation, a felony now includes using a fic-

titious document or a Social Securitynumber belonging to another person.

RAMPANT POLICE MISCONDUCT

The Project has documented otherinstances of immigration-related policemisconduct beyond the 100-mile zone.They include an elderly Latino citizenjailed by Mesa police after picking a bottlefrom a trashcan, a passenger in a carstopped for a broken taillight taken toimmigration authorities by Casa Grandepolice, a woman interrogated about immi-gration status after calling Tucson policeabout domestic violence, and a legal resi-dent questioned about his status by Phoenixpolice while picking up his impounded car.

ACLU attorney Christine Sun calls thecases “representative of policing problemsthroughout Arizona.” Lyall testifiedbefore the Tucson City Council, notingthat in May, Federal District Court JudgeMurray Snow ruled that Maricopa CountySheriff Joe Arpaio, using policies likethose in Tucson, was guilty of systematicand unconstitutional racial profiling.

The ACLU of Arizona made 20 recom-mendations for changes in Tucson’s policepractices. The most basic were to prohibitpolice “from questioning crime victims andwitnesses about their immigration status,”from “extending any stop or detention sole-ly to await a U.S. Customs and BorderProtection (CBP) or ICE response,” requir-ing officers to contact their supervisorsbefore questioning people about immigra-tion status, and to document “the reasonssuch questioning is believed necessary.”According to Arizona Public Media, thecouncil unanimously approved councilmember Regina Romero’s motion to askpolice to put public safety above checkingimmigration status.

In October, the ACLU demanded aninvestigation of the Border Patrol, citingfive examples of unlawful stops by rovingpatrols within the 100-mile zone.Although U.S. Customs and BorderProtection (CBP) claims broad authorityto conduct searches here, the ACLU com-plaint responds that “the FourthAmendment’s protection against unrea-sonable searches and seizures extends toprotect against unlawful investigatorystops.” Some of the documented mistreat-

ment clearly exceeds this standard.

THREATENED AND MANHANDLED

In May, Clarisa Christiansen wasstopped by the Border Patrol in the desertwest of Tucson, 40 miles north of the bor-der, while driving her five- and seven-year-old children home from school. Allare citizens, yet she was threatened with aTaser and knife, forced from her vehicle,interrogated, and left beside the road witha slashed tire.

In April, a Native American womanwas tailgated by a Border Patrol vehicle,dragged from her pickup, threatened andmanhandled, interrogated and ridiculed,and detained for over an hour on theTohono O’odham reservation.

In March, a tourist from Oregon wasthreatened, detained and falsely accused ofdrug possession after hiking at the FortBowie Historical Site. A drug-sniffing dogdid hundreds of dollars of damage to hiscar, but when his insurance companysought reimbursement, the CBP claimedthe Federal Tort Claims Act “bars recoveryfor property damaged by CBP employeeswhile the property is under detention.”

In May, a Latino citizen farmer wasfollowed and detained on his property byBorder Patrol agents holding automaticweapons. Agents trespass frequently, thefamily complains.

Two years ago, Suzanne Aldridge wasstopped just outside of Bisbee, Arizona, 30miles from the border, dragged from hercar, handcuffed, and groped by a BorderPatrol agent. Ten vans of agents, policeand sheriffs searched her car with a drug-sniffing dog without her consent. She triedto file a complaint, but was given therunaround by CBP representatives.

In September, the ACLU ofWashington and the Northwest ImmigrantRights Project settled a lawsuit challeng-ing CBP’s roving patrols on the Olympicpeninsula, which lies within the 100-milezone. As in Arizona, the Border Patrolconducted arbitrary vehicle stops, pro-longed detentions and other forms of mis-treatment. Fourth Amendment protectionsstill apply, the settlement says.

“Border Patrol officially agreed to fol-low the Constitution and not racially pro-file Latinos and other minorities ... People

should not have to fear that they could bestopped and questioned without reasonany time they drive or are passengers incars,” said Sarah Dunne, legal director ofthe ACLU-WA.

THE HEAVY PRICE OF IMMIGRATION

ENFORCEMENT

In testimony to September’sCongressional ad-hoc hearing on bordersecurity, the ACLU detailed other areas inwhich the Border Patrol violates constitu-tional rights. In Arizona ports of entry, aMay ACLU complaint documented 11cases involving “unprovoked assaults andverbal abuse, the unwarranted use of hand-cuffs and shackles, extended and recurringdetention, invasive searches, propertydestruction and confiscation, and denial offood, water and legal representation.”

At the state’s 11 CBP checkpoints, bor-der residents report numerous unlawfulsearches, detentions, threats and abuse. Thevast majority of detentions are for pettycrimes, not immigration, and federalauthorities dump those cases on localcourts. Says Santa Cruz County SheriffTony Estrada. “They tell us, ‘If you don’ttake them, we’re going to take your [feder-al law enforcement] funding away.’”

Abuse in CBP custody is rampant. Arecent University of Arizona reportrevealed that 11 percent of deporteesreported physical abuse by U.S. authori-ties, 23 percent experienced verbal abuse,45 percent received insufficient food, 39percent had their possessions confiscatedand 29 percent had their identificationdocuments taken and not returned.

The worst abuse is deadly. Since 2010,20 people have died as a result of CBPuse of force. Sixteen-year-old JoseAntonio Elena Rodriguez — standing onMexico soil — was shot seven times inthe back in 2012 by an agent firing acrossthe border at Nogales, Arizona.

Nineteen-year-old Carlos LaMadrid wasshot four times in the back while runningtoward Mexico at Douglas. Ramses BarronTorres was shot while simply standing inMexico. The Department of Justice wouldnot prosecute agents in the LaMadrid andBarron killings, and is still investigating thedeath of Elena Rodriguez.

A Constitution-Free Zone on the U.S. Border

See Constitution-Free Zone page 5

“End Deportations Now!” Immigrants, union members, and people of faith call for an end to deportations. David Bacon photo

In Arizona, the ACLU documented “unprovoked assaults and verbal abuse, the unwarrant-ed use of handcuffs and shackles, extended and recurring detention, invasive searches,property destruction and confiscation, and denial of food, water and legal representation.”

July 2014 ST R E E T SP I R I T 5

by Lynda Carson

An insidious law used by thecops in Los Angeles to harassand criminalize homeless peo-ple for sleeping in their vehi-

cles, and using their vehicles as “livingquarters,” was struck down on June 19 bythe U.S. Court of Appeals for the NinthCircuit Court.

In the case Desertrain v. City of LosAngeles, the court sent a strong messageall across the nation that cities cannotattempt to make homelessness illegal withegregious city laws that essentially makeit impossible for homeless people to sur-vive by staying in their vehicles.

For years, it has been a common prac-tice for homeless people to use their vehi-cles as a form of shelter when necessary.Whether it is due to a lack of money, ordire circumstances that leave them littlechoice but to sleep in their vehicles whenthe city they reside in does not offer themany other decent options, living out of avehicle is an alternative to staying in over-crowded and unsafe homeless shelters, orsleeping on the sidewalks, or under thebushes, or on the brutal streets.

In 1983, the City of Los Angeles enact-ed Municipal Code Section 85.02 toattack its homeless population, making itillegal for people to use their vehicles as“living quarters” either overnight, day-by-day, or otherwise while the vehicle wasparked on city streets, or in City-ownedparking lots, and parking lots owned orunder the control of the Los AngelesCounty of Beaches and Harbors.

During the week of September 23, 2010,Los Angeles officials created the VeniceHomelessness Task Force, with 21 copswho had orders to use Section 85.02 to citeand arrest homeless people for using theirautomobiles as “living quarters.” The copswere also supposed to hand out informationto people about providers of shelters andother social services.

A number of brave souls, includingCheyenne Desertrain, Steve Jacobs-Elstein, Bradford Echhart, PatriciaWarivonchik, Leroy Butler, WilliamCagle, and Chris Taylor, fought backagainst the discriminatory anti-homelesslaws of Los Angeles. As a result, the court

struck down the law that made it illegalfor homeless people to use their vehiclesas “living quarters” in the City andCounty of Los Angeles.

Many gravely ill and disabled home-less people have been arrested in LosAngeles for using their vehicles as “livingquarters” and had their vehicles impound-ed. Those arrested under this law includedone person who had congestive heart fail-ure, and another that had epilepsy.Another was an individual suffering fromsevere anxiety and depression after he lost

his own legal temp business company thathe had for almost ten years, and also losthis home during bad economic times.

Some of those arrested were found tohave food in their vehicles. The cops usedthe presence of food as a pretext to accusethem of living in their vehicles, and thenarrested them and impounded their cars.

The police were instructed to look forvehicles containing possessions normallyfound in a home, such as food, bedding,clothing, medicine, and basic necessitiespeople need to survive.

The brave people who fought backagainst the insidious law argued thatSection 85.02 is unconstitutionally vagueon its face because it provides insufficientnotice of the conduct it penalizes and pro-motes arbitrary and discriminatoryenforcement. The court agreed with them.

The court ruled that Section 85.02 pro-vides inadequate notice of the unlawfulconduct it proscribes, and opens the doorto discriminatory enforcement against thehomeless and the poor. Accordingly, thelaw violates the due process clause of theFourteenth Amendment as an unconstitu-tionally vague statute.

The court further believes that formany homeless people, their automobilemay be their last major possession — themeans by which they can look for workand seek social services. The City of LosAngeles has many options at its disposalto alleviate the plight and suffering of itshomeless citizens. Selectively preventingthe homeless and the poor from usingtheir vehicles for activities many other cit-izens also conduct in their cars should notbe one of those options.

The criminalization of the poor and thehomeless in cities across the United Statesis cruel and inhumane. Other attacks onthe poor and the homeless include thenotorious sit/lie laws in San Francisco andthe attempt to create such vicious laws inthe City of Berkeley.

Sleeping bans exist in Santa Cruz, SanDiego, and St. Petersburg, Florida, underthe guise of “no camping laws.” Somecities prohibit sharing food with homelesspeople unless you have a permit, andmany cities refuse to grant permits to feedpoor and homeless people in their com-munities. In Orlando, Florida, peoplefrom Food Not Bombs have been arrestedand sent to jail for feeding the poor andhungry, and Food Not Bombs volunteershave been harassed and arrested in SanFrancisco and other cities in past years.

Laws against panhandling are anotherattack on the poor in many cities, andhomeless people are being subjected toseveral other forms of cruel and inhumanetreatment in many cities across the nation.

Lynda Carson may be reached at ten-antsrule@yahoo.com

U.S. Court Strikes Down Law ProhibitingPeople from Living in Vehicles in Los Angeles

Art by Christa Ochiogrosso

Across California, entire families have been forced to use their vehicles as a formof shelter because their cities do not offer enough decent housing options.

One other product of the Constitution-free zone is the Operation Streamlinecourtroom, where every day 70 youngpeople are brought before a FederalDistrict Court judge, chained at theirwrists, waists and ankles, and pressuredinto pleading guilty to criminal charges ofillegal entry or reentry. “These proceed-ings offend fundamental principles of dueprocess,” the ACLU testified.

“We just closed our post office inTucson because it cost $14 million a yearto run, and lost 400 jobs,” charges Garcia.“We closed eleven schools because theTucson district had a shortfall of $17 mil-lion. Yet we pay Corrections Corporationof America $11 million a month to housethese migrants.”

The ACLU testimony made seven rec-ommendations for humane reform. Theyinclude increasing CBP oversight, pre-venting excessive use of force, reducingthe high number of border crossingdeaths, increasing detention standards andinspections, discouraging local and state

authorities’ involvement in immigrationenforcement, abolishing the OperationStreamline court, and reducing CBP’s“zone of authority” from 100 miles to 25miles from the border.

In October, community anger inTucson finally boiled over when policestopped a car in front of the SouthsideWorker Center. The ACLU and otherorganizations charge that, especially sincepassage of SB 1070, police often find pre-texts to stop vehicles they believe are car-rying undocumented people, and thenhold them for deportation.

In this case, police called the BorderPatrol after detaining the car’s occupants,who then put them into a CBP truck. Alocal migrant family organization,Corazon de Tucson (Tucson’s Heart),urged people to come protest. In an act ofcivil disobedience, some 60 people sur-rounded the vehicle carrying the twodetained migrants. People from the nearbyPresbyterian Church came out in support.They peacefully held hands, chanting,“Let them go!” as the Border Patrol andpolice responded by shoving people andusing pepper spray. Eventually the two

were taken to detention.Alejandro Valenzuela says, “We’re

tired of being arrested for no reason.These were people we knew. We wantedto prevent them from being taken fromtheir community and family.”

Three days later, in further civil dis-obedience, demonstrators blocked bussestaking detainees into the Federal court-house, chaining themselves to theirwheels. The day’s session of theOperation Streamline court was cancelled,and 17 demonstrators were arrested.

Similar acts of civil disobedience, block-ing buses carrying people for deportation,have taken place in Phoenix, San Francisco,Chicago, San Diego and Austin. Theyrespond to the fact that in the last five years,two million people have been deportedfrom the United States.

In December, Tucson CongressmanRaul Grijalva was one of 27 signing a letterto President Obama opposing mass deporta-tions. “Criminalizing American families orgiving local law enforcement the responsi-bility to choose who stays and who goes isnot the right option,” they said. Whether incourt, in Congress or in the streets, thedenial of rights in Arizona is being chal-lenged and that challenge is growing.

from page 4

Constitution-Free Zone on U.S. Border Street SpiritStreet Spirit is published by AmericanFriends Service Committee. The ven-dor program is run by J.C. Orton.

Editor, Layout: Terry MessmanWeb designer: Jesse Clarke

Contributors: David Bacon, MonaCaron, Bruce Davidson, Kazu Haga andthe East Point Peace Academy, LydiaGans, Linda Ellen Lemaster, DavidSolnit

All works copyrighted by the authors.

Contact: Terry MessmanStreet Spirit, 65 Ninth Street,San Francisco, CA 94103E-mail: spirit@afsc.orgWeb: http://www.thestreetspirit.org

Contact Street SpiritVendor Coordinator

If you have questions about the ven-dor program, please e-mail J.C. Orton atnoscw@sbcglobal.net or call his cellphone at (510) 684-1892.

July 2014ST R E E T SP I R I T6

Story and photos by David Bacon

“I’m the people’s general,” saysTC, explaining the nicknamehe’s been given on Fifth Street in

the Skid Row area of Los Angeles. Heearned it by keeping the homeless resi-dents of Skid Row informed and educat-ed, in part through the literature table hemaintains next to the blue tarps of his tent.Under the table are the donated clothes hecollects, which anyone can take.

“I’m a soldier in the war on poverty,”‘General’ TC declares. “I’ve been livinghere on Skid Row for two years, and Ilove it because I love the people — mostof ‘em, at least. I don’t like being home-less, and down here it can be hard. Butsometimes it can be beautiful too, becausepeople are beautiful, no matter how downand out they may be.”

Despite TC’s nickname, Skid Rowisn’t the scene of a military conflict, but itis contested terrain nonetheless.

“There are two communities on SkidRow — the haves and the have-nots,”says Deborah Burton, who lives in subsi-dized housing nearby. “Working and liv-ing together makes a community. We’rehere and we’re not going anywhere.”

And whether living on the sidewalk orin single-room hotels, this sense of com-munity shared by Skid Row residents is aproduct of their efforts to keep livingthere. On Sixth Street, people gather everyday at Gladys Park, sharing a couple ofdrinking fountains, a few patches of grassand several trees.

“People here accept you for who youare,” Linda Harris says. She’s a cancersurvivor, which has given her bumps allover her skin. No one gives her a secondlook, though, other than to say hello.“They don’t turn up their nose at you.Down here everyone is equal.”

That’s not her sense of the attitude shefaces once she leaves the park, though.“We hang out here because we’re notallowed in the upskirts of downtown,”Harris charges. “Some of us aren’t permit-ted because of the way we look. Peoplehave a label on us. They talk about ‘thosehomeless people.’ They never say ‘thepeople.’ They see me as a person who eatsout of a trashcan.”

Deborah Burton feels the same scorn atColes Restaurant on Sixth. “We used to gothere because it was affordable,” sheremembers from her youth. Then the eaterychanged hands, and set up tables outside onthe sidewalk to serve the new, more afflu-ent people moving into downtown. Priceswent up. Well-heeled diners did their bestto ignore the homeless people across thestreet as police moved them on, tellingthem the city’s “sit-lie” ordinance prohibit-ed sitting on the pavement.

“What goes through their mind?”Burton wonders. “You cross the street, andthen you can’t see us? I tried going intoColes one day to eat, and the maitre d’asked me if I had any money before I evencrossed the threshold. That’s why I saythere are two communities here.”

The distinction gets drawn by the cityin other ways as well. The further east yougo on Sixth Street, away from the new loftconversions, the fewer trash cans youfind. The grass is getting brown in Gladys

Park because water is expensive. But littlepatches of bright green lawn dot the side-walk outside new market-rate residences,planted by the city to give the residents’pets a place to “do their business.”

Public bathrooms for people who actu-ally live on the street, however, are hardto find. To Skid Row’s poor, this is the“dirty divide.”

Ironically, Linda Harris isn’t homeless.She lives in an apartment and sings atChurch of the Nazarene, as she’s donesince childhood. She helped bring theusers of Gladys Park together a few yearsago to get the city to replace filthy waterfountains, and then found the resources tobuild tables for dominoes and boardgames. Young men now face off in 3-on-3basketball under new hoops.

Another park further towards down-town, Pershing Square, is much less user-friendly. With skyscrapers and Class Ahotels just a block or two away, the squareis covered in concrete. Cement benchesline its rim, but metal dividers preventanyone from lying down as they can atGladys Park, and security guards quicklywarn off anyone who tries.

Al Sabo arrived in the square in 2003,pulling two roller bags carrying all his pos-sessions after he was discharged from thehospital. “I had great jobs all my life andnever thought I’d end up on the street,” hesays. “I was terrified. I walked into the parkthat day, figuring that if anyplace was safe,it would be Pershing Square.”

Sabo found the benches filled withdrug addicts, but to his amazement, theytook care of him. “Most were reallydecent people,” he explains. “They knew Ilooked out of place. They hustled me upfood and found me a safe place to sleepfor the next couple of months while I wason the street.” He eventually found aroom in a cheap hotel, and the experiencetransformed him.

Chasing homeless people out ofPershing Square, Sabo believes, wasintended to make downtown more invitingto residents able to pay market-rate rents,and to help developers converting the oldhotels to house them. “But if you do awaywith all the amenities, who’s going to goto the park?” he asks. “Would you bringyour family where there’s no grass to layyour blanket or picnic with your childrenwhere there’s no table?”

Sabo began helping others resist effortsto convert buildings into market-ratehousing. A former journalist, he startedwriting a column on displacement forCommunity Connection, the local newslet-ter of the Los Angeles Community ActionNetwork (LA CAN).

Leonard Woods, living in the nearbyAlexandria Hotel, became his ally. LikeSabo, he’d lost a good job and gravitated tothe low rents downtown. The Alexandriawas a luxury residence for Charlie Chaplinand Rudolf Valentino in the 1920s. Woodseven got the room occupied by HelenFerguson, a silent film star. But by the1990s, it was pretty run down.

“When I first moved in, I wasashamed,” Woods recalls. “I knew whatI’d had, and what I’d come to. I didn’t letanyone know that I lived downtownbecause it was Skid Row.”

He lost his shame when the hotel’s pre-

vious owner decided to renovate, and beganevicting low-income residents. “I thought,if he moves me out of my room, whatmakes me think I’m going to get it back? IfI didn’t fight I was going to lose my home.”

Woods got a lawyer, filed a suit withseveral other residents, and eventuallywon an injunction protecting the hotel’slow-income status. In the process,Alexandria tenants got to know eachother, and became a community withinthe hotel bent on staying put. “Now SkidRow is Skid Dollar,” Woods laughs. “Butwhy can’t I still be here?”

At the Frontier Hotel, tenants won apartial victory in a similar battle. ZumaCorporation, a developer, was able to con-vert the top three floors to market-rateresidences, while floors three to nineremained low-income housing.

The hotel owner, however, then reservedaccess to the main lobby, with its pottedpalms and marble floors, for top-floorrenters paying $1100 to $3900 a month.Poor tenants had to use a separate entrancearound the corner, monitored by guardsbehind a metal gate and glass barrier.

Steve Diaz, whose family moved to theFrontier after being evicted from theirapartment, remembers that poor residentswon a temporary injunction against theowner, who then closed the affluent-onlyentry and gated off the elevator.

“Afterwards,” he said, “they requiredthat you show an ID and Social Securitycard or a room key to get in, and chargedus $15 to get the key. I was made to feellike a criminal coming into my ownhouse. The LAPD even ran backgroundchecks against everyone in the building.”

As Diaz, Sabo and other tenants orga-nized similar committees in other hotels,they all began to develop a greater senseof themselves as a community of low-

income Skid Row residents. Together,they got Los Angeles to pass a hotelpreservation ordinance that requires nonet loss of low-income housing, covering17-18,000 units citywide, including 7-8000 downtown.

Diaz, who now works for LA CAN,points out that at the Alexandria, all therooms are covered by Section 8, the gov-ernment’s low-income rent subsidy pro-gram, and rents start at $56 a month.“And it’s across the street from a convert-ed office building where the starting rentis 90 times higher,” he says.

Effectively, that makes Skid Row acommunity in which both low-income andhigher income people live together.Stabilizing low-income housing affectspeople living on the street. Sidewalk-dwellers and hotel-dwellers are not twoseparate communities, but one larger one,and people move from one status toanother. Los Angeles had about 58,000homeless people in 2013, 8000 more thantwo years before.

Both General TC and Sean Gregoryhad rooms and lost them, pushing themonto the street. Terri King was homelessfor three years, and then got a room at theLyndon Hotel. “Since I got a place I’vehad my teeth done, my ears done, and Ihave medical care,” she says.

Bill Fisher, a disabled ironworker,would have been homeless after leavingthe hospital last December. Instead, hemoved into the Star Apartments, a newproject of prefabricated modular unitserected by the Skid Row Housing Trust,which manages 25 low-income develop-ments throughout downtown.

Fisher and his friend Thomas Ozekinow manage the Star Apartments commu-

Creating Communityon Skid Row in L.A.“We hang out here because we’re not allowed in theupskirts of downtown. Some of us aren’t permittedbecause of the way we look. People have a label on us.They see me as a person who eats out of a trashcan.”

— Linda Harris, a cancer survivor who lives in Skid Row

General TC, who calls himself “The People’s General,” lives on the sidewalk onSkid Row. He is an activist with the Los Angeles Community Action Network.

A cop gives a ticket to a poor bike rider on Skid Row. Activists accuse the policeof harassing poor residents in order to force them out of the neighborhood.

See Community on Skid Row page 12

“I don’t like being homeless, and down here it can be hard.But sometimes it can be beautiful too, because people arebeautiful, no matter how down and out they may be.”

July 2014 ST R E E T SP I R I T 7

by David Solnit

No, he’s not just the dog storyand survival-adventure writerof Call of the Wild and TheSea-Wolf. Jack London’s The

Iron Heel is the strongest articulation ofLondon’s emerging anti-capitalism andmay have been the first dystopian-utopianscience fiction novel.

Written in 1907, the novel predictedthe first World War (though with a differ-ent outcome), and the merger of corporatepower with authoritarian government seenin fascist governments in the 1930s and1940s and today in the escalating concen-tration of power and wealth in our currentcorporate capitalism.

Much of it reads like it could be today,which is why a group of communityartists, activists and organizers — the IronHeel Theater Collective — have chosen tobring it to life using puppetry, painted pic-ture-story cantastoria banners, readerstheater and live music.

The first performance on May 18played to an enthusiastic full house at theHillside Community Church in El Cerritoand benefited TeamRichmond.net — theprogressive candidates for Richmond CityCouncil and Mayor (candidate EduardoMartinez is the lead performer of thereaders theater performers).

Richmond progressives and ordinaryfolks are battling against Chevron, WallStreet banks, the realty industry, buildingtrades unions, and other parts of the localpower establishment that are spending mil-lions and fighting hard to return Richmond— the most progressive city in the UnitedStates — to being a company town.

The next performance is scheduled forthe evening of October 31, 2014, as partof the Jack London Society BiennialSymposium to be held in Berkeley.

I met Tarnel Abbott over the lastdecade working on mobilizations againstthe Chevron Richmond Refinery and withthe election campaigns of the RichmondProgressive Alliance, who put an end tothe 100-year rule of Chevron in its formercompany town, Richmond, Calif. Tarnelis a straight-talking retired member ofSEIU Local 1021 (used to be 790).

The former Richmond librarian wasawarded by the California LibraryAssociation’s Intellectual FreedomCommittee the 2006 Zoia Horn IntellectualFreedom Award for her tireless advocacyof free speech. She is also Jack London’s

great-granddaughter and continues, as herfather did, London radical activism.

Tarnel was invited to perform from hergreat grandpa’s The Iron Heel and herown writing on the Occupy movement atthe Ankara Theater Festival in 2012 andagain this year, with Richmond artistRegina Gilligan. I assisted Tarnel andRegina this year, sharing puppetry andcantastoria-making skills, creating a “can-tastoria” or picture-story-painted-bannerseries and slightly larger-than-life masks,which they took to Ankara, Turkey.

“Cantastoria,” in the words of leadingU.S. cantastoria maker-performer ClareDolan, “is an Italian word for the ancientperformance form of picture-story recita-tion, which involves sung narrationaccompanied by reference to painted ban-ners, scrolls, or placards. It is a traditionbelonging to the underdog, to chronicallyitinerant people of low social status, yetalso inextricably linked to the sacred.

“It is a practice very much alive today,existing in a wide variety of incarnationsaround the world, and fulfilling verydiverse functions for different populations.Picture-story recitation in its earliest forminvolved the display of representationalpaintings accompanied by sung narration.Originating in 6th century India, this reli-gious and then increasingly secular practiceevolved as it spread both east and west.”

Jack London described writing TheIron Heel in a letter to a friend in 1908,calling it “a novel that is an attack uponthe bourgeoisie and all that the bour-geoisie stands for. It will not make meany friends ... am having the time of mylife writing the story.”

Jonah Raskin, author of The RadicalJack London, wrote: “It was not until thecoming of the First World War that itbegan to attract readers and to winLondon admiration for his prescience.

Indeed, only when socialists in Francewent to war against their socialist brothersin Germany, and when the rallying cry of‘international solidarity’ fell on deaf ears,did The Iron Heel attract an internationalfollowing. The rise of Hitler andMussolini solidified London’s reputationas a ‘sociological seer.’ In Trotsky’s eyes,he was a genuine ‘revolutionary artist,’and far more perceptive than either RosaLuxemburg, the early twentieth-century

Activists Stage Jack London’s Radical Iron Heel“We are going to take your governments and your palaces...”

Art, Puppetry, Theater andMusic Bring Jack London’sThe Iron Heel to Life.

Larger-than-life puppets of anti-capitalist organizer Ernest confronting Mr. Wickson, leader of the 1%. Mona Caron photo

The Iron Heel Theater Collective brought Jack London’s novel to life with puppets, painted cantastoria banners, and music.

A worker confronts the wealthy 1% in a cantastoria from Iron Heel. Art by David Solnit

See Activists Stage Iron Heel page 11

July 2014ST R E E T SP I R I T8

LaFayette had begun this long marchthrough the nation’s jail cells 50 yearsago, when he was first arrested in theNashville Student Movement in 1960,then brutally beaten by a racist mob dur-ing the Freedom Rides in 1961, and thenmarked for assassination after becomingthe leading SNCC organizer for the votingrights struggle in Selma in 1963.

THE JAILHOUSE GRADUATION

Our delegation entered a large cell-block and were warmly greeted by about50 male prisoners attending the gradua-tion on April 22, 2014. Kazu Haga, direc-tor of the East Point Peace Academy inthe Bay Area, has conducted trainings inKingian Nonviolence all across the coun-try. Training people in jails has becomean important focus of his work, and he hasspent several months training men impris-oned in San Bruno County Jail.

San Bruno jail authorities have givenfull cooperation to Bernard LaFayette andKazu Haga to enable them to conduct ses-sions in Kingian Nonviolence inside thejail. The prison guards and counselorsgreeted us warmly and told me they wel-come the training program because itgives a renewed sense of purpose andmeaning in the lives of people serving jailsentences in tough circumstances.

Along with Haga and LaFayette, otherspeakers at the graduation included GusNewport, former mayor of Berkeley andcurrently a member of the National Councilof Elders; Michael Nagler, founder of thePeace and Conflict Studies Program at theUniversity of California; and TheresaMoran of the East Point Peace Academy.

More than 60 prisoners cheered enthu-siastically as Haga introduced the ninegraduates and praised their dedication incompleting several months of sessions tobecome certified as trainers in KingianNonviolence Conflict Reconciliation.

“I always say that nonviolence is a des-tination,” Haga told the prisoners in thelarge cellblock. “We never become nonvi-olent because we’re human and imperfect.You’ll never get to a place where we’llnever fail in being nonviolent becausewe’re human beings, and each one of us,myself included, are all imperfect. Sowe’re always going to fail, but it’s abouthow we get back up again. It’s about thestudy and the practice of nonviolence andgetting better and better at practicing thisphilosophy every single day.”

The level of enthusiasm that greetedhis comments was remarkable. The cell-block echoed with praise and applauseand support for the graduates.

Then Haga drew a direct parallelbetween the nonviolence training sessionsattended today by young prisoners in SanBruno jail and the formative trainings thatcivil rights icons such as James Lawson,James Forman and Bernard LaFayetteheld to prepare for sit-ins and marches inthe deep South in the early 1960s.

Haga said, “We have been practicingevery single week for the last four andone-half months, just like Dr. LaFayetteand a lot of the leaders of the civil rightsmovement who trained for months andmonths on end before they engaged in thecivil rights movement. They knew thatchange is not an easy thing. Whether it’strying to change something in your ownlife or trying to change something in theworld, it doesn’t come easily. You have tobe committed to that practice.”

The nine men graduating from this pro-gram then stepped forward and receivedtheir certificates to the prolonged applauseof their fellow prisoners.

Haga said, “As each of you receive thesecertificates, you’ll be joining an army of

thousands and thousands of Kingian nonvi-olent warriors around the world, and joininga family and joining a movement — fromrebel fighters in Nigeria, to high school stu-dents in Chicago, to educators in Nepal, topeace activists in Japan, Sri Lanka andColombia. Dr. LaFayette has been goingaround the world recruiting people intothe world of Kingian nonviolence.

“So you’re really joining a massivemovement of people who have committedthemselves to trying to create the belovedcommunity. So I hope you are proud ofyourselves because I am incredibly proudof you and happy for you.”

Gus Newport, the former mayor ofBerkeley and a member of the NationalCouncil of Elders, told the prisoners, “Ijust want to say congratulations. I knowhow difficult it is. I remember coming outof the streets, the person that steered metowards nonviolence was Malcolm X.Thank you for allowing us to be here.Good luck and God bless you.”

THE BOOMERANG EFFECT

In an interview after the ceremony,Newport said it was remarkable to see Dr.King’s vision of nonviolence coming tolife all over again in a jail in San Bruno somany years after his assassination. Hesaid that the civil rights movement had a“boomerang effect” on U.S. society.

Newport recalled the riots after King’sdeath when it seemed like everything hadbeen lost, and the momentum of the move-ment was gone. People at the time “didn’trealize how deeply rooted the movementhad become,” he said. They couldn’t see atthe time that “with a little water and sun-shine how things would go on blooming foranother 50 years.”

“It’s the boomerang that can turneverything around,” Newport said. “At acertain moment, it just turns around in itsflight. These jail trainings are saying,‘Open up your mind, your spirit, your life,and understand what you are now capableof in serving the greater society.’”

Gandhi said that poverty is the worstform of violence. Newport echoed that insaying that extreme poverty is often theunderlying cause of the desperation that dri-ves people to crime. “Poverty is the grand-daddy of crime and war,” Newport said.

“We know that people who are servingtime often got in trouble because theywere victims of society. Let’s face it,poverty is the granddaddy of crime andwar. This country must begin to recognizethat. These young people, given thechance, and given some education andtraining and exposure to a new life and ajob, will do more to help turn around thissociety than some of the people sitting in

Washington, D.C., right now.”When asked why he had gone so far out

of his way to attend a nonviolence gradua-tion for a handful of prisoners in a remotejail in San Bruno, Newport said, “We whoare about peace know that they don’t haveto look at the world through the eyes ofcapitalism or violence or war or violation ofthe environment. We are here because wecare about peace and human beings.”

WE CAN’T THROW PEOPLE AWAY

Theresa Guy Moran, an attorney work-ing with the East Point Peace Academy,has taken 40 hours of training in KingianNonviolence. In an interview at the jail,she said that she finds it very “moving” totake the message of Kingian Nonviolenceinto the jail cells.

“It’s a population that people generallydiscount, dismiss and throw away,” Moransaid. “And I see great potential, and greatlove and great caring here. I mean, I don’tromanticize this. People do a lot of thingsthat lead to jail, and then they do what isappropriate to make amends. But we can’tafford to throw anyone away. God doesn’tmake mistakes.”

Kazu Haga described to the gatheringhis belief that the spirit of Kingian nonvi-olence is indestructible, and could not bekilled even by an assassin’s bullet.

“The assassin who fired the bullet intoMartin Luther King on the morning ofApril 4, 1968 – that assassin missed,” hesaid. “Because the assassins weren’t justtrying to kill a person, they were trying tokill a philosophy, a set of ideals, and amovement. Every time we come togetherto talk about Kingian nonviolence and Dr.King’s legacy, we are the evidence thatthe assassin missed his target. So we areall joining that legacy.”

Then Haga introduced LaFayette to thegathering, saying, “There have probably

not been very many people on this earthwho have done more to keep that legacyalive than Dr. Bernard LaFayette.”

LaFayette told the prisoners, “I’mthrilled to be here with you. I’ve been in jailbefore. I’ve been arrested 27 times. Thiswhole idea of nonviolence is spreadingaround the world. I’m so proud of you. Youare joining a global community of peoplewho have found there’s another way.”

LaFayette met with King at the LorraineMotel in Memphis on April 4, 1968, themorning of the assassination. King wasscheduled to travel with LaFayette toWashington, D.C., to announce to the presstheir plans for the Poor People’s Campaign.But King had to stay in Memphis to workwith striking sanitation workers so he sentLaFayette ahead, promising he would joinhim in the nation’s capital.

All that history was on LaFayette’smind as he addressed inmates at the SanBruno jail. He gave one of the most mov-ing expressions of hope I have ever heard.

“When they tried to kill Martin LutherKing, they missed,” LaFayette said.“Because Martin promised me somethingin Memphis when I was with him on April4, 1968. He said, ‘You go on toWashington, D.C., to organize the PoorPeople’s Campaign and I’ll be along later.’Then he was shot and killed that very day.

“But Martin Luther King was a man ofhis word. Almost 50 years later, heshowed up in a huge, 30-foot memorialstatue on the National Mall inWashington, D.C. — right where he saidhe was coming. Can you imagine that?

“Now they’re celebrating his birthdayand his life in countries all over the world— in places where Martin Luther Kingnever went. Martin Luther King gave uswhat he had to offer. The question is: Whatare we now going to give the world?”

Bernard LaFayette, at right, describes to men in San Bruno County Jail how Kingian Nonviolence helps create social change.

Bernard LaFayette and Kazu Haga honor a prisoner’s graduation in nonviolence.

from page 1

A Long March fromSelma to San Bruno

July 2014 ST R E E T SP I R I T 9

by Terry Messman

On the same day that legendarycivil rights leader MedgarEvers was assassinated inJackson, Mississippi, two other

civil rights leaders were targeted in coor-dinated assassination plots: BenjaminCox, a leading organizer for CORE(Congress of Racial Equality) in NewOrleans; and Bernard LaFayette, directorof the Alabama Voter RegistrationCampaign for the Student NonviolentCoordinating Committee (SNCC).

On the same evening that Evers wasmurdered by an assassin in his carport inJackson, Mississippi, LaFayette returnedhome in his car and was confronted bywhite men who beat him nearly to deathwith a pistol butt and then aimed the gunpoint blank at his face, preparing to shootand kill him. When a neighbor confrontedthem with a rifle, Lafayette asked him notto shoot his attackers, and the would-beassassins quickly drove off into the night.

The coordinated murder plots are nowknown as the “tri-state conspiracy.” Thislittle-known history is vividly recountedin Bernard LaFayette’s book, In Peaceand Freedom, My Journey in Selma.

After narrowly avoiding assassination,LaFayette went on to spearhead the suc-cessful voter registration campaign inSelma that directly led to the passage ofthe Voting Rights Act of 1965. He thenwas chosen by Martin Luther King Jr. tobecome the national coordinator of thePoor People’s Campaign in 1968.

In light of his irreplaceable work in thecivil rights movement, and in light of theimmeasurable value of the countless train-ing sessions in Kingian Nonviolence thatLaFayette has conducted all over theworld, it is sobering to realize how closethe nation came to losing one of its mostdedicated practitioners of nonviolentresistance on the same day that MedgarEvers was murdered.

BLOODY SUNDAY IN SELMA

Selma, Alabama, was one of the mostsignificant battlegrounds in the struggle towin civil rights and voting rights andovercome a systematic form of racist dis-crimination that prevented nearly all blackcitizens from being allowed to vote.

On March 7, 1965, more than 600 non-violent marchers were viciously assaultedwhen Alabama state and local policeattacked the first attempt to march fromSelma to Montgomery in support of vot-ing rights. Troops on horseback chasedthe peaceful marchers, and many werebrutally beaten by mounted police savage-ly swinging whips and batons, whilemany others were trampled by horses.

“Bloody Sunday” is now an iconicmoment in the legacy of the FreedomMovement. Hundreds suffered bloodybeatings and some were clubbed nearly todeath as police used billy clubs and teargas to disrupt the march. Amelia Boynton,Lafayette’s closest personal ally and oneof the most courageous supporters of thevoting rights campaign in Selma, wasseverely beaten, knocked down to theasphalt and hospitalized.

Yet, LaFayette concludes his account ofBloody Sunday with a remarkable passageabout how nonviolence can succeed at thevery moment when it seems brutalized andbeaten down. He wrote: “An objectiveanalysis would conclude that the protesterswere defeated. However, from the songs in

their souls, one could hear victory. “And victory it was, as this march,

referred to as Bloody Sunday because ofthe bloodshed, increased the awareness ofthe important issue. Part of our strategywas to make the nation aware of the con-ditions people were suffering when theyprotested about their right to vote. Whenthe national audience saw the horrors, thenational conscience was awakened.”

A NATION IS GALVANIZED

Bloody Sunday was perhaps the blood-iest encounter of the entire civil rightsmovement. It shocked and galvanized anation. President Lyndon Johnson hadalready signed the Civil Rights Act of1964, and before the Selma brutality, hehad said that he was not willing to spendany more political capital on pushing fed-eral legislation to defend voting rights.

So it is all the more remarkable that, asa direct result of Bloody Sunday, LyndonJohnson signed the Voting Rights Act of1965, which ensured voting rights forblack citizens and banned racial discrimi-nation at the polls. Many analysts and his-torians consider the Voting Rights Act tobe the most significant and powerful leg-islation for civil rights.

Certainly, the price was paid in full,and not only by those beaten nearly todeath by Alabama police. Martyrs paid amore permanent price. Jimmie LeeJackson, age 26, a nonviolent protesterwho marched for voting rights along withhis grandfather, mother and sister, wasshot to death by Alabama state police inFebruary 1965. This shocking murder ofan innocent, unarmed, young man sparkedthe famous Selma to Montgomery March.

Immediately after Bloody Sunday,Viola Liuzzo was shot to death and Rev.James Reeb was beaten to death by whiteracists and Ku Klux Klan members.

The deaths ignited a nation. On March15, 1965, only eight days after BloodySunday, President Johnson delivered aSpecial Message asking Congress to passthe Voting Rights Act. Johnson calledSelma “a turning point” in humanity’ssearch for freedom. Johnson said, “There,long-suffering men and women peacefullyprotested the denial of their rights asAmericans. Many were brutally assaulted.One good man, a man of God, was killed.There is no cause for pride in what hashappened in Selma. There is no cause forself-satisfaction in the long denial of equal

rights of millions of Americans.”Yet, even though Bloody Sunday in

1965 marked one of the most importantturning points for the nation, blood hadstarted flowing on the streets of Selmatwo years earlier, when LaFayette wasbeaten nearly to death on the same daythat Evers was killed.

It later became known as the “tri-stateconspiracy.” It was a coordinated plan toassassinate Bernard LaFayette in Selmaon June 12, 1963; Benjamin Cox, a leaderfor CORE (Congress of Racial Equality)in New Orleans; and Medgar Evers, acourageous NAACP leader in Mississippi.This assassination plan was carried outjust hours after President John Kennedyhad given a major speech on national tele-vision in support of civil rights.

TOO MANY MARTYRS

Medgar Evers is now rightly revered asa legendary hero of the FreedomMovement. As the Mississippi field secre-tary for the NAACP, Evers had defied sev-eral assassination threats and kept workingfearlessly for civil rights, until he was shotin the back at his home in Jackson on June12, 1963, by a rifle-bearing member of theWhite Citizens’ Council and the Ku KluxKlan, Byron De La Beckwith.

In the years since his death, MedgarEvers has been honored in movies andbooks and songs; his memory and legacyhave been celebrated at ArlingtonNational Cemetery; and a memorial statueof the slain civil rights icon was erected inJackson, Mississippi, in June 2013.

Bob Dylan honored Evers in the song,“Only a Pawn in their Game.” Dylansang, “Today, Medgar Evers was buriedfrom the bullet he caught. They loweredhim down as a king.”

The folksinger Phil Ochs, deeply com-mitted to the cause of civil rights as a musi-cian and an activist, wrote an anthem, “TooMany Martyrs,” with an unforgettabledescription of Evers’ murder.

“He slowly squeezed the trigger, the bullet left his side,It struck the heart of every man when Evers fell and died.”Even though the cold-blooded murder

of Evers is now remembered as a highlysignificant moment in the history of thecivil rights struggle, the story of the twoother intended victims who were shad-owed by murder plots as part of this tri-state conspiracy is almost unknown.

CORE activist Rev. Benjamin Cox justhappened to have traveled out of NewOrleans that fateful night. “That chancetrip saved his life,” LaFayette writes.

Rev. Cox had been arrested manytimes for organizing sit-ins that succeededin integrating several restaurants, includ-ing McDonald’s. In May 1961, Cox and12 other activists became the originalFreedom Riders, riding the bus fromWashington, D.C., to New Orleans.

After the FBI told Cox and LaFayettethat they had been targeted in the tri-stateconspiracy that claimed Evers’ life, the twomen realized they had escaped death by thenarrowest of margins. With a grim sense ofgallows humor, LaFayette wrote: “We’vebeen friends for many years and some-times Cox sends me a ‘death-day’ cardinstead of a birthday card!”

LaFayette was only 22 years old whenhe began directing the Alabama VoterRegistration Campaign for SNCC inJanuary 1963. Yet he already was a sea-soned activist after being arrested two yearsearlier during the restaurant sit-ins with theNashville Student Movement in 1960.

Only a year later, LaFayette became aFreedom Rider. He gives a harrowingaccount of being brutally beaten by a mobof white racists who attacked the FreedomRiders at the Montgomery bus station inMay 1961. Yet LaFayette is always theindefatigable teacher of nonviolence.

Instead of focusing in his book on the

They Refused to Let Justice Be Crucified

Bernard LaFayette gets ready to board a bus on his Freedom Ride in May 1961. Photo credit: Bruce Davidson/Magnum Photos

See A Refusal to Let Justice page 10

The cover of Bernard LaFayette’s bookshows him with Martin Luther King Jr.

The Tri-State Conspiracyto murder Medgar Evers,Bernard LaFayette andRev. Benjamin Cox.

July 2014ST R E E T SP I R I T10

horrific violence the Freedom Riders weresubjected to, his real message is to teachhow nonviolent activists can face physicalviolence and still keep their spirits intactand their movement alive.

“In the Montgomery bus station a rant-ing mob viciously attacked us. Several ofus were severely beaten. However, wedefied all expectations. We didn’t run, wedidn’t fight back. We got back up whenslammed to the ground, and looked ourattackers directly in the eyes, fighting vio-lence with nonviolence. In spite of ourinjuries, with many of us bleeding andbattered, we got back on the bus and con-tinued our ride toward Jackson.” [InPeace and Freedom, p. 11.]

THE MOST HOSTILE CITY

Far from being deterred by these vio-lent attacks, the young activist was moredetermined than ever to put the nonviolentteachings of Martin Luther King andJames Lawson into practice in one of themost hostile and intolerant of southerncities — Selma, Alabama.

Selma was considered so dangerous andimplacably racist that the SNCC leadershiphad totally written it off as an impossiblearea to organize. When LaFayette askedJames Forman, the executive secretary ofSNCC, to appoint him as director of theVoter Registration Campaign in Selma, helearned that SNCC had just removed Selmafrom the list of possible organizing sitesafter two groups of SNCC workers hadreturned from scouting the city and report-ed, “The white folks are too mean and theblack folks are too afraid.”

Yet LaFayette remained dedicated toputting the teachings of nonviolence towork in a city where they would meet thetoughest test imaginable. Forman finallyrelented and appointed him director of thevoter registration campaign in Selma.

His book, In Peace and Freedom, is ahighly insightful case study in communityorganizing whose lessons remain just asvaluable today. As soon as he arrived inSelma in January 1963, he began bringingtogether an embryonic organization ofSelma residents to carry out a systematicvoter registration campaign that, only twoyears later, would literally transform theface of a nation, when it catalyzed the pas-sage of the Voting Rights Act of 1965.

Yet his central role in this momentousstruggle was almost erased at the begin-ning of his Selma sojourn. Just as MedgarEvers was assassinated in the eveningwhen he pulled into his carport after ameeting with NAACP lawyers, LaFayettewas attacked that same evening when hepulled into his driveway after a voter-reg-istration meeting in Selma.

As he got out of his car, two white menin a nearby parked car asked him to givetheir stalled vehicle a push. As LaFayettegot out of his car to help him, they sav-agely attacked him without warning,smashing his head with a crushing blowthat knocked him to the ground. When herose up again and stood his ground, theattackers pounded his head with a pistolbutt, again knocking him to the ground.Each time the men struck him with thesecrushing blows, LaFayette simply stoodup again, refused to run or defend himself,and looked his assailant in the eye.

After the third blow, the would-beassassins aimed a gun point blank at hisface. At that moment, his neighbor Redran out, and pointed a rifle at them.LaFayette hollered, “Don’t shoot him,Red!” Adhering to nonviolence even at

great risk to his own life, LaFayette stoodbetween the two armed men with his armsoutstretched. The attackers jumped intotheir car and sped off, and LaFayette wastaken to the hospital.

During the brutal assault, LaFayettefelt a sense of “spiritual empowermentthat allowed me to feel an extraordinarysense of internal strength instead of fear.”Even though he was face to face withdeath, he wrote, “I felt an intense forcethat seemed to lift me up emotionally,even though I didn’t know what wouldhappen next. It was a surrendering of life,in a sense, and I was prepared.”

He realized that this “surreal feeling”had happened only twice in his life, bothtimes when he was under physical attack.“I view it as a form of resistance, withsupport from a power beyond myself,” hewrote. [In Peace and Freedom, p. 75.]

The nearly lethal violence directedagainst LaFayette after he had onlyworked for a few months in Selmaseemed to confirm the initial decision bythe SNCC leadership to entirely avoid anycampaign for civil rights in Selma. A less-er man — and a lesser movement —would have abandoned the entire organiz-ing effort in Selma right then and there.

Instead, the assassination attemptboomeranged on them. The black commu-nity had been oppressed for so long bythreats of terrible reprisals — fearingeverything from the loss of jobs to theloss of their lives — that they were intimi-dated into being silent, afraid to speak outpublicly even for their right to vote.

A TURNING POINT IN SELMA

The assassination plot seemingly con-firmed all their worst fears, yet it became aturning point in the struggle toward free-dom. LaFayette explained: “The feelings ofblacks in Selma toward me changed afterthat night because they realized I was pre-pared to give my life for a cause that wouldserve them. There was a different climate, anew attitude. People not only sympathized;they offered genuine support.”

He now found that many more peoplewere committed to attending the massmeetings and voter registration classes, andlong lines of people began bravely standingup for their rights at the voter registrationoffice, where they willingly risked arrestsand beatings by the notoriously brutalSheriff Jim Clark and his deputies.

Sheriff Clark and other Selma officialswore buttons proclaiming “NEVER!” toshow that they would never tolerate anyattempts at integration and voter registra-tion. They drove their segregationist mes-sage home by violently attacking andarresting Selma citizens as they peacefullyattempted to register to vote. Yet hundredsof people from all walks of life found thecourage to challenge Sheriff Clark and thebrutal apparatus of segregation.

This is the boomerang effect of nonvi-olence that Gus Newport had described tome at the San Bruno jail. This boomerangeffect has made an unexpected appearancein many seemingly hopeless nonviolentcampaigns when an oppressed people sud-denly discover the spirit of resistance ris-ing from within at the very moment whenthe authorities have attempted to destroy amovement with violent repression.

But then, just as people were findingnew courage in Selma, the 16th StreetBaptist Church in Birmingham, Alabama,was bombed on September 15, 1963, bythe Ku Klux Klan, killing four young girlsattending Sunday School and injuringhundreds more. Two months later,President John F. Kennedy was assassi-

nated on November 22, 1963. LaFayette wrote, “The people in Selma

had been hopeful with Kennedy, and theywere now filled with a profound sorrowand grief, having lost an influential sup-porter of the civil rights movement.”

The twin tragedies threatened to tearthe heart out of the movement. “Many ofus felt that if the most powerful leaders inthe world could not be protected, then thecommon person, particularly black per-sons, certainly had no protection at all,”[In Peace and Freedom, p. 104.]

THE MAGNIFICENT MOVEMENT

And that is when the movement roseup and magnificently met the challenge.People persevered in spite of the deaths ofinnocent young girls in church. They per-severed in the face of the assassination ofMedgar Evers and President Kennedy. Inthe face of death threats and bombingsand the savage brutality of Selma SheriffJim Clark, the movement defied all expec-tations and grew stronger in commitment.

Nonviolent resistance has been definedas “relentless perseverance.” LaFayettewatched as that spirit of perseveranceemerged in Selma. “We considered our-selves soldiers in a nonviolent army andwould continue to fight against violentacts with nonviolence. Violence wasnever a deterrent for us. We believed thatif we sustained the movement in spite ofthe violence, we would succeed and bringabout the changes we sought.”

It all built up to an historic showdownduring the three marches from Selma toMontgomery. The first march on March 7,1965, was“Bloody Sunday” when hun-dreds of marchers were brutalized bypolice on the Edmund Pettus Bridge.

The second march was held only twodays later on March 9. Hundreds ofmarchers crossed the Edmund PettusBridge and the entire crowd knelt down inprayer with Martin Luther King andRalph David Abernathy in what theycalled a “Confrontation of Prayer.”

Many were very critical that themarchers turned around and walked backacross the bridge instead of continuing onand provoking a mass arrest. In LaFayette’sanalysis, these critics didn’t understandwhat the real purpose of that march was.

The organizers were waiting in expecta-tion that the federal government was on theverge of lifting an injunction against theright to march. They held the second marchto keep the heat and the media glare on thecity of Selma, but they wanted to avoid anunwanted, unnecessary and irrelevant bat-tle with the federal government at a timewhen they were pressuring federal officialsto overturn Alabama’s local laws that pre-vented black people from voting.

The organizers had analyzed things cor-rectly. The federal injunction was indeedlifted only 10 days after the second march,and the third and final march was scheduledfor March 21, 1965. Now the battle lineswere clear. It was the Freedom Movement

versus Alabama officials — from Gov.George Wallace on down to Sheriff JimClark — who had illegally prevented blackcitizens from voting for decades.

On March 21, the third March toMontgomery began in Selma and fivedays later, a large group of marchersreached Montgomery and held a massiverally of 25,000 people on the steps of theAlabama State Capitol.

‘HOW LONG, NOT LONG’Martin Luther King delivered the his-

toric “How Long, Not Long” speech. King asked, “How long will justice be

crucified and truth bear it? I come to sayto you this afternoon, however difficultthe moment, however frustrating the hour,it will not be long because truth crushedto earth will rise again.

“How long? Not long, because no liecan live forever... “How long? Not longbecause the arc of the moral universe islong, but it bends towards justice.”

The Selma campaign was the best oftimes, and the worst of times. It was thebest of times because as a direct result ofthe Selma campaign and the march toMontgomery, President Johnson and theCongress passed the Voting Rights Actand ripped up many of the Jim Crow lawsthat prevented black citizens from voting.

It was the worst of times because ViolaLiuzzo, a civil rights activist and mother offive, was shot to death by a carload of KuKlux Klan members as she was ferryingmarchers between Montgomery and Selmaafter the rally. LaFayette knew ViolaLiuzzo as a selfless activist for justice.

He wrote, “There’s not a time that Idrive past the monument that marks thearea where she was killed that I don’treflect on that tragic night and say a silentprayer for her and for the family she leftbehind.” [In Peace and Freedom, p. 141.]

LaFayette says he has “mixed emotions”whenever he thinks about Liuzzo and allthose who gave their lives so selflessly forthe cause of justice, yet he always remem-bers “how she sacrificed her life to that oth-ers might live and enjoy freedom anddemocracy in their own nation.”

Those words are a testament as to howwe should remember and honor those whogave their lives to win one of the mostimportant struggles in our nation’s history.

We must remember Medgar Evers,Jimmie Lee Jackson, Viola Liuzzo, Rev.James Reeb, Martin Luther King Jr. andthe four girls killed in Birmingham, AddieMae Collins, Denise McNair, CaroleRobertson and Cynthia Wesley.

I remember, now and always, how anoppressed and insulted people, a peoplesubjected to a nearly totalitarian system ofracism enforced by overwhelming levelsof state-sanctioned violence, found thecourage to march on with all the oddsagainst them, march on despite the beat-ings and bombings and bloodshed, marchon despite the murders. They refused tolet truth be crushed, and justice crucified.

A Refusal to Let Justice Be CrucifiedThey found the courage to march on despite the beatingsand bombings and bloodshed and murders. They refusedto let truth be crushed and justice buried.

from page 9

Bernard LaFayette’s mugshot, taken on May 24, 1961, after his arrest with otherFreedom Riders in Jackson, Mississippi.

July 2014 ST R E E T SP I R I T 11

reach.” The word “peer” is important, andhe explains its meaning. “I mean somebodywho has their own mental health issues,(has had) some recovery and is able to helpsomebody. I’ve been on the streets, suici-dal, depressed, done just about every drugthere is. I don’t do all this now. SometimesI sleep out just to remember.”

We had a couple long conversationssitting on a bench in Peoples Park whileFood Not Bombs was serving a meal topeople in the park. Diehl’s job involvesconnecting homeless and at-risk peoplewith community services that will helpthem get housed and stabilize their lives.

But the work is extremely frustrating,he says, because there are not enough ser-vices to help all those in need, andnowhere near enough housing for all thepeople desperate to get off the streets.Consequently, there is a high burnout rateamong workers in homeless services.

“I don’t want to be another paper shuf-fler sending people to go here and there,”Diehl said. “They get plenty of thatalready. If I’m to connect people to men-tal health services or housing, there needsto be some significant investment in that.That’s why I’m not going to give up thesocial justice thing.”

He deals with many people on the streetwho act out, who yell and get violent orabusive. “A lot of people on the streets havemental health issues,” he said, adding thathe is convinced that “there is a mentalhealth component to homelessness.”

Diehl objects to the biomedical modelof mental illness, what he calls the “bro-ken brain theory” promulgated by the psy-chiatric establishment. “It’s more abouttrauma,” he said. A large part of that trau-ma stems from the destabilizing effects ofpoverty and the dangerous and nerve-racking experience of homelessness.

“People need to know there is a heavysocial price (of economic) inequality and Ithink that is one reason why this countryhas high rates of so-called mental illness,”he said. “Homelessness is a major traumabecause you’re not feeling safe. You aren’tsafe. You’re in a danger zone. It is danger-

ous on the streets. And a lot of people thathave been victims of violence — they pro-ject it out. They’re on the edge.”

He admits that, “I had to do years ofmeditation to get rid of my anger.” Heputs it simply: “Hurt people hurt people.”

I asked what he does with people whohave been traumatized. His answer was alesson I have taken to heart: “Get them totell their story! That’s the most importantthing. That’s a lot of what I do.”

He described a Code Pink demonstra-tion in front of the Marine Corps recruit-ing office in Berkeley that took place sev-eral years ago. A crowd of very angrymen had gathered, and were threateningviolence against the peace protest.

“It became very clear,” Michael said.“There was one guy with an Americanflag. He came from inland California andhe was mad. He was a Vietnam vet.”

Diehl simply asked the man to explainhis feelings about the war and the demon-stration. “I said, ‘Tell me why you thinkthat.’ And he told his whole story aboutVietnam. I just listened for 20 minutesand he said, ‘Thanks, that felt good.’ Isaid, ‘I figured you wanted to come toBerkeley and tell someone.’ And he tookhis flag and he went off.”

Diehl is deeply concerned about the vio-lence in society. He quotes psychologistAbraham Maslow, who wrote that food,shelter and safety are basic human needs.“Safety, which is basically about violence— that’s what trauma is about,” Diehl said.“It’s a violent society. We’re not totallyowning up to that. More than any society inthe world, we are an extremely violent soci-ety. And the fact that we’re not looking atthat is a problem.”

Referring to the recent shooting ofGayla Moore, he pointed out that in a cri-sis situation the police are not adequatelytrained to deal with it. What is needed is aCrisis Intervention Task Force, a proposalthat was considered some years ago butnever implemented. Berkeley MentalHealth has a mobile crisis unit but it isgrossly understaffed and underfunded.

I had been talking about communityorganizing recently with Yukon Hannibal,a Peoples Park regular, who has been

more or less housed for many years. Wefirst met when he was living at the AlbanyBulb before the first eviction in 1999.Hannibal told me of his first encounterwith Michael Diehl at the Free Clinicwhere Michael was working.

“Some years later we actually met,”Hannibal said. “I started talking aboutreviving the Berkeley Homeless Union. Iasked Michael and we started the BerkeleyHomeless Union together.” He listed someencampments they supported. “We movedon that together, along with the people.”

That is a good description of Diehl’sapproach to community organizing. Whenhe sees an interest developing around aparticular issue or activity, he helps peo-ple work together to make it happen.

The garden in Peoples Park is a recentexample. Diehl says simply, “I helped getthings going and then stepped back and letother people do it.” But it was not easy. Iremember watching agonizing months ofconflicts and temper tantrums as well asunabated pressure from the University ofCalifornia. Diehl was with them through itall until they achieved peace and unity.Now, with a dedicated crew of gardeners,the place is flourishing with a lush assort-ment of corn and vegetable greens andsome lovely flower beds.

“Now it seems to be working so I don’t

need to continue,” Diehl said. “That’s theessence of being a good organizer. Youwant to avoid being the one doing it all.”

He’s not all seriousness. He lovesmusic and dancing. If someone sets uptheir drums in Peoples Park and startsplaying, Michael will break into an exu-berant dance. It doesn’t matter thatnobody joins him. But he can make it partof his activism. “It brings a whole newdimension to it,” he said.

At Occupy Oakland, when someonebrought some music, he started dancing andsoon it became a group activity. His con-nection with the street youth on ShattuckAvenue in Berkeley is built on a sharedappreciation of music. He will talk withenthusiasm about all the different musicscenes he’s been part of over the years.

Economic and social conditions allaround us are worsening. More and morepeople are being caught in a web of sick-ness and deprivation. But at least here inBerkeley, someone is listening.

Someone cares enough to treat the peo-ple who live on the streets as neighborsand friends, not as outcasts. Perhaps thereis a lesson here about the importance of tol-erance for others. A lesson about respectand human dignity. A lesson about ourshared humanity, more important than everin a society where so many are hurting.

His Heart Is with the Street Peoplefrom page 1

German revolutionary, or V. I. Lenin, theleader of the Bolshevik Revolution of1917, who admired London and seems tohave borrowed the phrase ‘the aristocracyof labor’ from The Iron Heel to describethat sector of the working class that hadlost its working-class consciousness andsided with capital. In the 1960s, The IronHeel experienced another resurgence.Vietnamese as well as Americans read itas a text on the evils of imperialism. It hasnever gone out of print, but London schol-ars often ignore it.”

Here is my favorite passage from ourtheater adaptation of The Iron Heel whereanti-capitalist organizer Ernest directlyconfronts Wickson, a leader of the 1%capitalist elite:

ERNEST: “With modern technology,five people can produce bread for a thou-sand. One person can produce cottoncloth for two hundred and fifty people,woolens for three hundred, and boots andshoes for a thousand. If modern worker’sproducing power is a thousand timesgreater than that of the cave-man, whythen, in the United States today, are theremillions of people who are not properlysheltered and properly fed? The capitalistclass has mismanaged. You have made ashambles of civilization. You have beenblind and greedy. You are fat with powerand possession, drunken with success.

“Now, let me tell you about the revolu-tion. Such an army of revolution, millionsstrong, is a thing to make ruling classespause and consider. The cry of this army is:‘No quarter.’ We will be content with noth-ing less than all that you possess. We wantin our hands the reins of power and thedestiny of mankind. We are going to takeyour governments and your palaces...andthen you shall work for your bread even asthe peasant in the field. Here are our hands.They are strong hands!

“This is the revolution, my masters.Stop it if you can. You have criminallyand selfishly mismanaged. And on thiscount you cannot answer me here to-night!... You cannot answer.”

WICKSON: “No answer is necessary!Believe me, the situation is serious. Thatbear reached out his paws tonight to crushus. He has said that it is their intention totake away from us our governments andour palaces. A great change is coming insociety; but, haply, it may not be thechange the bear anticipates. The bear hassaid that he will crush us. What if wecrush the bear? We are in power. Nobodywill deny it. By virtue of that power weshall remain in power.

“We will grind you revolutionistsdown under our heel, and we shall walkupon your faces. The world is ours, we areits lords, and ours it shall remain. Laborhas been in the dirt since history began.And in the dirt it shall remain so long as I

and mine and those that come after ushave the power. There is the word. It isthe king of words — Power. Pour it overyour tongue till it tingles with it. Power.”

ERNEST: “It is the only answer thatcould be given. Power. We know well bybitter experience, that no appeal for the

right, for justice, for humanity, can evertouch you. Your hearts are hard as yourheels with which you tread upon the facesof the poor. You cannot escape us. Powerwill be the arbiter, as it always has been.It is a struggle of classes.”

Michael Diehl and Grace Chen dance in Peoples Park music festival. Lydia Gans photo

from page 7

Activists Stage Jack London’s Iron Heel

Jack London while writing The Sea-Wolf at Wake Robin Lodge, Glen Ellen, Calif.

July 2014ST R E E T SP I R I T12

nity garden, which they see as an organiz-ing tool. “It helps create community,”Fisher points out. “In the middle of SkidRow, look how beautiful it is.”

In addition, the community garden pro-vides a source of fresh vegetables — ararity on Skid Row, which activists call afood desert. “I have to catch two busses toget to the closest grocery store,” DeborahBurton charges.

Fisher says when they harvested theirfirst zucchini, they discovered that someresidents had never eaten the vegetable.Now the garden produces Japanesecucumbers, tomatoes, sunflowers, pota-toes, garlic and rosemary as well.

“Every week we have a class,” Ozekiexplains. “Right now, we’re plantingseedlings, and people learn to prune, andthen put fish meal into the watering cans.Urban gardens require a lot of care.”

To help spread access to gardeningresources, and therefore to fresh produce,LA CAN helped form the Skid RowGarden Council. Organizations donatetrees, seed and soil, which the council dis-tributes to buildings where residents setup a garden. Ozeki guides urban garden-ers in three other buildings belonging tothe Housing Trust. “They have 19 build-ings with gardens,” he says.

According to LA CAN organizer EricAres, “Nutrition education is a big part ofour work. We want to grow our own foodso that we don’t rely just on markets.”

At LA CAN’s own building, theactivist community set up a rooftop gar-den, growing tomatoes and other vegeta-bles in containers of dirt hauled up severalflights of stairs. In their new office, set-ting up the rooftop garden will be easier— it’s a one-story building.

“Everything we grow is distributedfree or prepared in meals for our commu-nity,” Ares emphasizes.

The local farmers markets often seedowntown’s affluent residents as theirpreferred clients, and LA CAN has nego-tiated with many of them to get them toaccept Electronic Benefit Transfer (EBT)cards from poor residents. In California,public assistance and food stamp benefitsare paid into accounts, and recipients thenuse the cards to buy food.

“At the City Hall market, getting EBTaccess was easy, but at the Grand Parkmarket the managers didn’t want to takethem at all,” Ares charges. In PershingSquare, managers say they’re setting uptheir own, separate system.

The Pershing Square market first tried touse security to push homeless and obvious-ly poor people out on market days, andeven forced a woman in her 80s, who’dbeen handing out free sandwiches for years,

to stop her distribution. “But we workedwith them, and they backed off,” he says.

LA CAN has also started its own fooddistribution program, a Pop-Up Marketorganized with Women OrganizingResources. “We get food in SouthernCalifornia and sell it, but not for profit,”Ares says. “We started in South LA, andnow we’re bringing it downtown.” In itsfirst six months, the market distributed 3.8tons of organic produce.

Homeless people define Skid Row as acommunity in many ways. General TCpoints out that most homeless men areveterans. Gregory says it’s the largest sin-gle community of people in recovery fromalcoholism and addiction in the country.

“There’s also a community of artistswho live here and I’m one of them,”Gregory boasts. He’s acted in plays aboutaddiction and recovery put on by one ofthe area’s oldest theater groups, the LosAngeles Poverty Department. Anotherlocal ensemble, Cornerstone Theater,incorporates Skid Row residents and theirideas into its productions.

Yet another group, the Women’s ActionCoalition, organizes an annual variety showto highlight local talent and raise money tosupport women and families.

Skid Row’s population is overwhelm-ingly male, in part due to county policy.From 2005-2008, the Board ofSupervisors declared “zero tolerance” forfamilies living on Skid Row. Under pres-sure from Supervisor Gloria Molina,teams from Children and Family Services

interviewed parents in Pershing Square, atthe Union Rescue Mission, and other SkidRow locations to determine if they werefit to remain with their children.

In 2007, they took 15 children fromtheir parents. The policy caused great con-troversy. Another supervisor, YvonneBraithwaite Burke, told the Los AngelesTimes, “There should never be an assump-tion that because you’re poor, you shouldbe taken from your parents and placed infoster care.”

The policy was eventually ended, buttoday women and children make up lessthan ten percent of Skid Row’s popula-tion. Class and race increasingly deter-mine who can have children downtown.Toddlers in expensive strollers are a com-mon sight outside market-rate lofts.

“A community without children is acommunity without a future,” accordingto LA CAN co-director Becky Dennison.“We have to improve the community, asopposed to push poor mothers or womenof color out.”

Some measures that were felt as dis-criminatory by homeless people and hotelresidents have been successfully chal-lenged. A policy by some hotels to chargea guest fee to family members stayingovernight was overturned. A federal courtforbade police from confiscating thebelongings of homeless people.

Meanwhile, however, city code section41.18D still prohibits sitting and lying onthe sidewalk between 6 a.m. and 9 p.m.Poor residents accuse the police of using

it selectively against them, and the SaferCities Initiative targets police enforcementto Skid Row east of Main Street.

In 2006, the 50 extra police it mandat-ed for the area issued 12,000 citations. Inresponse, that year the 9th Circuit Courtof Appeals ordered the city to stop itsoverzealous approach.

Nevertheless, citations have continued,and last year, two LA CAN membershanding out seedlings for gardens wereeven cited, and one officer warned hoteltenants they should “keep moving” oncethey walked out of their building.Restaurants catering to higher incomeclientele, however, are allowed to havepeople wait outside for tables and evenput tables on the sidewalk.

“They complain about the homelessproblem, but there’s one sure way to gethundreds off the street,” Gregory says, andpoints to the Cecil Hotel on Main Street,where a deal fell through that would haverehabilitated hundreds of rooms for peopleliving on the sidewalk. “We are fighting fora place that belongs to us.”

“The Skid Row community is one ofthe most vibrant communities in LosAngeles,” Dennison says. “Folks take careof each other, know each other and livevery densely. Here, you either create com-munity or you get wiped off the map.”

All photos are by renowned photojour-nalist David Bacon. With thanks and appre-ciation to Equal Voice News. See more at:http://www.equalvoiceforfamilies.org/

A homeless man on Skid Row has attached a sign to his shopping cart alerting the police not to confiscate his belongings.

In recent years, homeless, low-income residents and community groups haveworked together to ensure that Skid Row in L.A. has affordable housing.

Leonard Woods lives in the Hotel Alexandria on Skid Row. He and a group of res-idents kept developers from displacing all the poor people living in the hotel.

Security at the Pershing Square market tried to push homeless and obviously poor peopleout on market days, and even forced a woman in her 80s, who’d been handing out freesandwiches for years, to stop her distribution of food to the poor.

Community on Skid Rowfrom page 6