The nation will pause and reflect on the massive “Revolutionary Kool Aid Suicide” of almost a 1000 Americans in their Jonestown refuge in Guyana and the assassination of Congressman Leo Ryan, thirty years ago, on November 18, 1978. This could be my final ten year acknowledgment of the Peoples Temple and Reverend Jim Jones.
CNN was going to tell this story again last night at 9:00 PM. But the Campbell lead-up at 8:00 p.m. was so boring—re-hashing the all day story of Governor Palin and the Republican Governor’s Conference in Miami—that I fell asleep. When I woke up, it was David Letterman time, 11:30, time to enjoy his political jokes. When I turned back to CNN, the news network was showing the horror of the stacked up bodies in a repeat of their 9:00 P.M. special.
But my interest in the Peoples Temple story began before Guyana—in Indianapolis, Indiana—where my connection to the story was made.
In 1998, after watching a version on History Channel, I put it all together in my head. But I better hurry and put my own connection to the story in writing. In 1998, actors connected to me in this story who could have confirmed what I know were living—but they are now gone or about gone. That’s the problem when, as a young adult, you hang with people 15-30 years older than you.
When I visited my grandchildren for my birthday, they announced that I am 74 years old. They are such big liars. I exist in a fantasy of denial. (“Grandpaw—I know how old you are” (who asked them?) “74!!”)
Sometime in 1958-1959 in Indianapolis, Indiana
Damn! She was fine. Brown skin. Not a high yaller—that I felt tended to be uppity in relation to me with my brown skin. Breasts. A behind. And she was aggressive—coming on to me. She came into the ice cream parlor where I was working part-time. I forget WHY I was working there part time. I got her phone number. But it must have been the short period of time between Indiana University Law School and working at the Indiana State Farm—a correctional facility.
But the opportunity to get it on with this fine woman—either for a one night stand or a relationship—was a diversion from my politics of the moment—and I did not call her.
Yet, in about a week, I saw here again in a drug store near my home—and she came on again—showing disappointment that I did not call her. (As I look at it now, this was strange—because the ice cream parlor was way in East Indianapolis—not near my home neighborhood).
She said I could make up not calling her by picking her up and taking her to church—to a Peoples Temple the coming Sunday. That relieved the sexual tension—because I could then play MY game of seduction by doing a neutral thing—where I would be in control.
Peoples Temple? I had no idea. She said it was integrated. So is the Unitarian church I attended. But I was suspicious when she told me the address—located in the Black Ghetto near downtown—and not in an upper class white suburb as was the Unitarian Church.
My new lady friend—I suspected was not college educated. Therefore, I began to imagine that Peoples Temple was like a Father Divine Church that I had read about—and that sparked my curiosity to see what was going on. While growing up as a child in the AME faith—in Terre Haute, Indiana—there was a piano—but no organ. There was no gospel music. Only Wesleyan hymns. No emotionalism—which was frowned upon. (The women who would forget where they were and get happy, would be rushed by church nurses in white uniforms down into the basement where they could shout and cool down before being allowed to come back up and join the congregation).
But back as a child while growing up in Terre Haute, Indiana, as I walked by Pentecostal churches, people seemed to be having a good time—the falling out—the jumping up and down, the tambourines. Visiting a service with a childhood friend, I enjoyed the testifying and the praising the Lord.
But I had always moved on because all that emotionalism was below my class as was taught in my Black Bourgeoisie upbringing as an AME.
So, I was eager to come by and pick up my new lady friend for church with two motivations—to execute my Sex game under my control and to observe an experience which must be like a Father Divine experience.
The Experience
I came by the house where my new friend lived with her mother and sisters. Only she in the family was going to Peoples Temple. Their house was also in the hood. A typical working class Black family. I was already beginning to lower my expectations of my new friend—because you can be poor—but have a vision of rising—intellectually—not just financially—like having family members striving to go to college if you can’t. Yet that did not turn me off like my mother would have liked it to; instead, I was more comfortable that I would not be put down and would be in charge.
Then we arrived at the church building—which was not like a traditional church—but a big warehouse—with a big neon sign that showed it was a church. There must have been more than a thousand people. Looking back now, having had experiences being in big assemblies, I think it could have been 2000 people there—and though my friend and I were not late, we had to sit near the back. Again, not like a traditional church: everyone was sitting on folding chairs. Not pews.
And noise. Not like in a Methodist church or Unitarian church—where in a back row, you can hear a pin drop. My friend did not have to tell me that the young white athletic man on the stage was Reverend Jim Jones. Speakers were set up all over the place; you could hear what he was saying over the noise, the cymbals, the organ and shouts. Everyone was in an uproar, responding to what he was saying.
If you succeeded in shutting your ears to all this noise, to what he was saying—what he said sounded pretty good, until he got to the monsters and the retribution and end of times forecast in the Book of Revelation. This was 1959-60, so the Gantry movie had not yet come out—but just like the Gantry movie—only magnified. Everything was staged—the mass healings and the frenzied exultations—Black and white—about equal.
But it came to me. This guy is a stone hustler. I realized that, somehow, I had been targeted as a mark to be brought to this place to be enrolled in this church because of its enthusiastic integration of Black and white that was not bound to an upper middle class mentality. After the service, there was a great banquet of food and fellowship with the people which was enjoyable, but something was not right. Everyone seemed brainwashed into an alternate reality, and it felt addictive to hang there and get involved there with my new lady friend.
The young lady was fine. But after I took her home—I never called her back. Because I felt I had been a target. I felt as if she knew who I was before she met me—as if this guy Jim Jones had ordered it. I don’t want to read into the story what I now know in comparison to what I knew then. But as I recall, I just did not like or trust this Jim Jones—using so-called “integration” to be a white Father Divine. And Black people eating it up.
1960 Indiana Human Rights Commission
When I was selected to be the chairman of the Indianapolis NAACP Political Action Committee in 1958, instead of taking care of my law school classes, I was working demonstrations, picketing and pressing for an Indiana Human Rights Bill on public accommodations and employment. My partners were Willard B. Ransom, general counsel to Madam C. J. Walker beauty industries, and my mentor, Attorney John Preston War, counsel for the Indianapolis NAACP and legal director of the Indiana Civil Liberties Union. State Senator Nelson Grills and State Representative Andrew Jacobs were co-sponsors of the bill. It passed.
Indianapolis, like the rest of the State of Indiana in 1959—was strictly segregated. Poor whites lived in Southern Indianapolis—near the manufacturing centers. Blacks lived in Northern Indianapolis, from central Indianapolis—the Ghetto—near Indiana Avenue, extending north to the suburbs where upper middle class whites lived. Middle class Blacks were slowly moving into these areas near Butler University—the home school of the Disciples of Christ. (I learned in 1998 that the Disciples of Christ had sponsored Jim Jone’s Peoples Temple—but later kicked him out—which was the reason he moved to California before moving to Guyanna.)
But after our human rights bill passed, Ransom, Ward and myself lost control or influence as to how the Indiana Human Rights Law would be structured and implemented. My alienation with Indiana then began to develop when the moderates chose Reverend Jim Jones to be a member of the Indiana Human Rights Commission. Even my friends did not understand why I was so adamantly against this so-called progressive integrationist, Jim Jones. He was one of the factors, along with my friends supporting him, for my deciding to come to Florida and the FAMU Law School in order to be part of the Southern Movement bursting in 1960.
So, in 1978, when the news of the Jonestown suicide was told to the world, and they noted that this Reverend Jim Jones, from Indianapolis, was the cult leader directing the so-called mass “revolutionary suicide” I was not surprised.
As if I had a premonition.
My friend John Due has sent to me his remembrance of Peoples Temple and Reverend Jim Jones as a guest post for Hungry Blues. John is now a retired civil rights-community organizer lawyer living in Gadsden County, FL. John and I met on the internet and have a mutual interest in the movement in Mississippi—where he worked during the 1964 Freedom Summer and where I currently investigate racial violence from that time. But before Due moved to Florida in 1960, he was an activist in Indiana. He sent this post to express how he felt how he was a mark for Peoples Temple and Reverend Jones and how we all must take care in any movement. —BG
§ Posted by Benjamin T. Greenberg on November 15, 2008 at 7:29 pm
Our election of Barack Obama to be President of the United States of America has been filling me with overwhelming emotions. As it has been doing for so many people.
It has been hard to put any of this into words. For me it begins with my being a child of the Civil Rights Movement. As many readers of this blog know, in the early 1960s, my father worked for the Southern Christian Leadership Conference as Special Assistant to Martin Luther King, Jr. He worked in the SCLC NY office and fought on the front lines of the civil rights battle in Birmingham, AL. One of the youth leaders of the Birmingham movement, the late William Douthard (aka Meatball), lived with us when he first moved to Albany, NY in 1978.
I started this blog to write about my father’s history in the Movement and in the process I have had the privilege of getting involved with the broader community of Civil Rights Movement veterans. I’ve made new friends and joined hands with them in the continuing struggle for racial justice in America.
It is incredibly potent to see images of a Black man elected to be President—in a historic, landslide victory, no less. To see that, and to see America’s embrace of the Obama family, and to see Michelle and Barack’s two little Black girls who are going to grow up in the White House—is to see barriers broken that I hoped but did not expect to see broken in my lifetime.
This is not the ultimate fulfillment of the struggle imparted to me by my father and his comrades—but it is a watershed moment. America still has a long way to go. And we don’t know what kind of president Obama will turn out to be; he may well end up being a centrist Democrat in the tradition of Bill Clinton. There are also indications that his administration will promote unprecedented changes in American government and society. It is likely that the Obama administration will be a mix of these things. But Obama’s candidacy and election are more than these emotions and are more than the sum his policies and accomplishments of his administration.
One of the Civil Rights Movement veterans I’ve gotten to know is Joyce Ladner. Joyce grew up in Palmers Crossing, Hattiesburg, MS. She and her sister Dorie became leaders in the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC) and were involved in much of the civil rights struggle in Mississippi. Joyce has gone on to be a prominent sociologist, a pioneer in Black women’s studies, a president of Howard University, a Clinton appointee to the District of Columbia Financial Control Board and a Senior Fellow at the Brookings Institution.
In January, Joyce launched her Ladner Report blog to support Barack Obama in the midst of the contentious and often ugly Democratic primary race. Before the election results were known on Tuesday night, she wrote:
Joyce Ladner and Michelle Obama
I am posting this piece before the election results are in, so I don’t know if Senator Barack Obama will become President Obama. I going out to an election returns party tonight. But the race has already been won. I don’t know if the numbers will allow us to call him “President Obama” but what I do know is this: we have turned this country around. It can not, it will not shift back to the greed, mean spiritedness, selfishness, and all the other negative adjectives I could call it.
I was reminded of a passage written by Franz Fanon:
Each generation must define its mission,
Fulfill it, or betray it.
I think Fanon’s words have a lot of relevance today because older generations worked in this campaign to restore us to our better selves, while the young stepped forth to define their missions. In time, they, too, will step up and figure out how to carry them out. They will have a great transformational leader in a President Obama.
With this in mind, I told a fellow volunteer at the Obama campaign office today that the laws of the universe helped to shift us away from the horrors that led people to rise up and clamor and work for CHANGE. Obama was a conduit for the change we citizens must have. He understands that too because he keeps telling us that the election is not about him but it’s about US.
I spent some time yesterday and today waving my Obama sign at major intersections in this beautiful Florida city that is so deeply Republican. I saw many McCain-Palin supporters taking their last breaths in their old identities. Several very old men gave me the finger sign, which shocked me because they looked like it was hard for them to raise their arms. Infirm. Old. Set in 19th century ideas, but still nasty, hostile, and in some cases racist. It’s not enough to say that these people are driven entirely by self interest. It goes deeper than that. It is about the redefinition of who we are as a nation. It taps into the better part of our selves for the negative experiences to which we have been subjected are destroying our inner spirits….
Let’s hope this two year experience many of us have had with this campaign will leave us all with a renewal of energy and optimism, that will fuel our desire to sacrifice for the changes the society needs. I have not had experiences similar to those in this campaign since I was a college student civil rights activist. I hope we who had similar experiences in the past can now feel content to bequeath to the younger generations that same sense of struggle and morality, optimism and hope, hard work and sacrifice. They are up to the task and we should be more than ready to move to the side and urge them to lead.
May God protect Senator Obama and may he guide and protect us as well, as we work for higher purposes and goals that demand that we all step outside ourselves to work for the greater good.
On Wednesday morning, I wrote an email to my friend John Due.
John was born in Indiana, where he attended Indiana University. There, in 1957, three years before the Southern sit-in movement, he helped organize a testing campaign of segregated off-campus housing, restaurants and barber shops. After several more years of activity in the NAACP and union organizing, John went to Florida A&M in Tallahassee to attend law school and get in involved in the Civil Rights Movement there. John worked for the Southern Regional Council in Atlanta, which sent him to Mississippi in 1964, where he conducted a dangerous investigation of violent reprisals against Black citizens and their SNCC and CORE workers seeking the right to vote in Southwest Mississippi—the same area of Mississippi my current investigations of civil rights era racial violence focus on. John has been active in practically every civil rights organization one could name. More recently he was a leader of the successful campaign for Miami-Dade County to adopt the most comprehensive living wage ordinance in the country. John’s wife, Patricia Stephens Due, a civil rights leader in her own right in the Tallahassee movement and beyond, co-authored with one of their daughters, Tananarive Due, the book Freedom in the Family: A Mother-Daughter Memoir of the Fight for Civil Rights.
My subject line to John was “Congratulations to us all.”
I’m thinking of you and your family today. I just tried to call your home to say congratulations and that the news that we have elected Barack Obama as President of the United States is more meaningful because I know you.
John replied in a vein similar to Joyce’s blog post:
Like John Lewis—as Obama has said—my wife, myself, your father and other unsung heroes are and were the Moses Generation.
Obama said he was of the Joshua Generation, like you are.
And crossing the Red Sea that was made easy by the Lord is nothing compared to the River Jordan that you and your children will have to do because the Jordan is still not crossed yet. You will soon find out the difference between McCain saying “I,” and Obama saying “You.”
So I accept your congratulations as a matter of recognition of helping to put you and your generation in place. “To Come This Far.” Now it is your turn. So I agree—”Congratulations to us all.”
Neither Joyce nor John have illusions that Obama is the silver bullet for our nation’s woes. They are ardent supporters of Obama, who see him and his candicy as having invigorated my generation and American politics with the capacity to now start moving ahead to the next stages of evolution. It will be no less of a struggle. But there is hope now that we can meet it. Yes we can.
§ Posted by Benjamin T. Greenberg on November 7, 2008 at 9:42 am
The US Supreme Court has hammered another nail in the coffin of the voting rights protections my father and many, many others risked their lives to establish for all Americans. (Why do I say “another” nail? See the related links at the end of this post.)
WASHINGTON — The Supreme Court upheld Indiana’s voter identification law on Monday, concluding in a splintered decision that the challengers failed to prove that the law’s photo ID requirement placed an unconstitutional burden on the right to vote.
The 6-to-3 ruling kept the door open to future lawsuits that provided more evidence. But this theoretical possibility was small comfort to the dissenters or to critics of voter ID laws, who predicted that a more likely outcome than successful lawsuits would be the spread of measures that would keep some legitimate would-be voters from the polls.
First, there is the straightforward practical concern. As many as 3 million New York City voters do not have a driver’s license. Indeed, 1990 census data showed that less than 50 percent of New York City’s voting age residents had a driver’s license compared with 91 percent of the state’s residents overall. Also, members of minority groups are far less likely to have a driver’s license than whites; recently naturalized citizens (and new immigrants from Puerto Rico) are also less likely to have a driver’s license. For many of those potential voters, it may also prove onerous for them to have another valid form of identification handy when they go to the polls. This requirement, then, could depress the voting power of New York City and members of minority groups.
Second, application of the identification requirement is likely to create a host of problems. An identification requirement will require poll workers to use their discretion and judgment. More discretion and judgment will be required when the voters use a form of identification other than a driver’s license. Unfortunately, poll workers often get the rules wrong. The more complicated the rules, the more likely they will not be applied properly – and this set of rules could seem complicated. A study of New York City’s 2001 general election by the New York Public Interest Research Group demonstrated that most poll workers did not know basic rules about where someone should vote if they moved or who could help a disabled person vote. This suggests that poll workers will not be able to apply an identification requirement properly. Under the bill, the first-time voters who fail to provide proper identification should be permitted to vote with an affidavit or paper ballot, with which they sign an affidavit promising that they are who they say they are. But, again, given the reliability of the poll workers, it is quite likely that significant numbers of voters could be wrongly turned away. In fact, New York election lore is full of stories about poll workers who do not know when someone should use such a ballot and denying voters access to such ballots.
The i.d. requirement also creates opportunities for discriminatory treatment. African-Americans have a history of being subjected to special scrutiny at the polling place – as have members of other minority groups and recently naturalized citizens. Stories abounded in Duval County, Florida of African-American voters being asked to show a form of identification – sometimes two – while white voters were allowed to sign in without presenting any i.d. Similarly, a survey conducted by the Asian American Legal Defense Fund found that in the 2001 New York City general election one in six Asian voters was improperly asked to show identification before voting.
Finally, there is no evidence that such a rule is needed. In even the closest elections, there is rarely any evidence of voter fraud at the polls. And, the experience of states with same-day voter registration suggests that identification is not needed to protect against fraud.
Guess how many verified cases of identification fraud lawmakers cited in advocating a new rule that residents show a Wisconsin driver’s license or a state ID card each time they vote? Answer: Zero.
That’s right. Backers of the measure noted not a single instance anywhere in Wisconsin in which it was shown that a voter lied about who he or she was in casting a ballot. So the ID rule, approved this month by the Assembly, fixes a problem that lawmakers have failed to show exists.
Well, the rule won’t do any harm, right? Wrong: It will do harm. This added step is sure to stop some eligible voters from exercising their franchise. That price is worth paying only if identification fraud amounts to a serious problem in state elections.
Ease of voting has put the state among the leaders in voter turnout – a tradition lawmakers should safeguard. Wisconsin requires proof of residency at the time one registers, not a state ID each time one votes. Right now, only eight states require all residents to show identification on each trip to the polls, according to the National Conference of State Legislatures, and only one of those states, South Carolina, mandates the use of driver’s licenses or state ID cards. That’s company Wisconsin shouldn’t keep.
True, for an overwhelming number of residents, the ID requirement would amount to a small or no inconvenience. But for a minority, it could act as a stumbling block to the polls, which should be easily accessible to all eligible voters.
The rule could keep from the polls: newcomers with out-of-state driver’s licenses; poor people too consumed with day-to-day existence to take the time to get the proper ID; elderly or disabled people lacking the mobility to conveniently get the required cards; and residents who have misplaced their ID cards or have simply forgotten to bring them to the voting sites.
Like most states, New Mexico has never required voter ID. New Mexico’s checks on voter fraud include a computerized system that verifies that voters are real, live where they say, and are eligible to vote. Voting twice is a crime, and voters’ signatures are in county clerks’ records for comparison.
Voter ID requirements have been shown to interfere with balloting by students and by voters who don’t: drive; have a utility bill in their name; bring “proper ID” to the polls; or understand the complicated procedure for providing ID to vote absentee.
An ID requirement, particularly one imposed at the last minute, would effectively turn many lawful voters away.
Two weeks ago, despite these facts, Republican Party lawyers concocted a “voter ID” controversy by loudly proclaiming their “shocking discovery” that voter registration groups had filed “at least 3,000 fraudulent registrations in Bernalillo County alone.” This provoked the public freakout the Republicans wanted. Their charge, however, turned out to be fabricated. When their lead plaintiff was under oath, he had to admit they had no evidence of fraud. The “3,000 fraudulent registrations” were duplicates, forms with illegible addresses, omitted Social Security numbers, unsigned forms and the like. In other words, just what you would expect among 60,000 new registrations. None were added to the voter rolls, nor could they have resulted in a fraudulent vote. The only arguably “fraudulent” registration apparently was a teenager’s prank that would have been routinely screened out during computerized cross-checking of Social Security numbers.
In court, the director of the Bureau of Elections and a county clerk’s representative carefully explained how New Mexico’s databases eliminate felons, dead people, people who have moved away, and other ineligible voters.
National studies confirm the United States does not have the “voting fraud” problem the Republicans are braying about. What we do have is a pattern of exclusion of lawful voters. This is the ugly picture that emerged in Florida where thousands of black voters were wrongfully denied the vote. It does not take a vivid imagination to know what a requirement for “proper ID” would translate into in Florida or, for that matter, what kind of chaos would reign at New Mexico polls if a last-minute “voter ID” requirement were imposed on thousands of new voters when there is no agreement on what constitutes a valid ID. –snip– So why are the Republicans beating the drum for voter ID for new registrants? The answer is simple. There are more than 120,000 new registrants in New Mexico— 44 percent Democrats, 24 percent Republicans and the rest “Independent” or “Won’t Say.”
Add to that the fact that ID requirements historically disrupt voting by students, minorities (particularly Native Americans in remote areas), the institutionalized elderly and the poor. These groups (surprise!) tend to vote Democratic. If you think the Republicans would be demanding voter ID if new-voter numbers were reversed, I have a bridge to sell you.
The percentages being what they are, a voter ID requirement would likely shave a couple of points off the Democrats’ margin in this swing state. Republicans are about as concerned with “voter fraud” as they are with protecting the spotted owl. They want the chaos and vote suppression they managed in Florida.
Folks I've got them hungry blues
And nothin' in this to lose
People tellin' me to choose
Between dyin' and lyin' and
keep on cryin'
Tired of them hungry blues
Listen ain't you heard the news
There's another thing to choose
A brand new world
clean and fine
Where nobody's hungry
And there's no color line
A thing like that's worth
anybody dyin'
I ain't got a thing to lose
But them doggone hungry blues
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