[Dialogue] MLK Weekend, April 6, 1968-Galax connection

Tue Apr 11 12:01:21 PDT 2017

Some of you may recall the story from our days in Galax, Va, where we met Fr. Standrod Carmichael, the rector of the little Episcopal/Lutheran Church that we attended for a time with John’s sister and husband.   When Standrod learned of our connection with the Ecumenical Institute, he volunteered that he had been on the South Side of Chicago teaching at an Episcopal  boarding school during the riots when a call came  from a cadre member that women and children were stranded on the West Side and could he appropriate one of the school buses and meet a group at the El stop to take them to safety in the suburbs, which he did!

He had been part of a clergy group in the Chicago area, and said that had his wife agreed, he would have joined with this group.  Recognizable language from RS-I found its way in a number of sermons.   His wife, Marietta, was a gifted church musician and also taught at the school.  She and Standrod brought a great deal of culture to the little town of Galax, forming a number of community choirs and organizing an amazing little opera company for the mountain area.  She was also Jeremiah’s piano teacher.  He never took to piano, but he surely has a love for rap lyrics creation, a gift from his bi-cultural experiences.

Lynda

From: ICA Dialogue List <dialogue at lists.wedgeblade.net<mailto:dialogue at lists.wedgeblade.net>>
Reply-To: Bill and Marianna Bailey <wmbailey at charter.net<mailto:wmbailey at charter.net>>, ICA Dialogue List <dialogue at lists.wedgeblade.net<mailto:dialogue at lists.wedgeblade.net>>
Date: Tuesday, April 11, 2017 at 1:34 PM
To: D & T McCabe <dm14 at txstate.edu<mailto:dm14 at txstate.edu>>, ICA Dialogue List <dialogue at lists.wedgeblade.net<mailto:dialogue at lists.wedgeblade.net>>
Subject: Re: [Dialogue] MLK Weekend, April 6, 1968

I remember the night!! We were escorted to a car by the Vice Lords in order to get out of 5th City. We headed “west” and just kept driving
Much later that night someone suggest we call the Institute. Although we didn’t think anyone would answer, we called! To our surprise someone answered (can’t remember who).  They said they were hiding under the desk but the National Guard was there. The next morning, Bill and I took a taxi to the Institute the others never returned to the Institute.
Marianna
On Apr 10, 2017, at 1:01 PM, McCabe, Diann A via Dialogue <dialogue at lists.wedgeblade.net<mailto:dialogue at lists.wedgeblade.net>> wrote:

Thank you, Jo. I loved reading this and living through your telling of it. Diann McCabe, San Marcos, TX

From: Dialogue <dialogue-bounces at lists.wedgeblade.net<mailto:dialogue-bounces at lists.wedgeblade.net>> on behalf of Jo Nelson via Dialogue <dialogue at lists.wedgeblade.net<mailto:dialogue at lists.wedgeblade.net>>
Reply-To: Jo Nelson <jnelson at ica-associates.ca<mailto:jnelson at ica-associates.ca>>, Colleague Dialogue <dialogue at lists.wedgeblade.net<mailto:dialogue at lists.wedgeblade.net>>
Date: Sunday, April 9, 2017 at 8:54 PM
To: Dialogue List <dialogue at lists.wedgeblade.net<mailto:dialogue at lists.wedgeblade.net>>
Subject: [Dialogue] MLK Weekend, April 6, 1968

I posted this in my blog on the weekend, and it forwarded to my Facebook page.  Someone requested that I also send it to the O:E list, but I am no longer on it, so I chose to put it here.

MLK Weekend, April 6, 1968
49 years ago, I participated in a history- and life-changing event on the West Side of Chicago.
I was 19 years old, in my second year at the University of Iowa, and traveled with my campus Wesleyan Foundation group to take a course called “Cultural Studies I” at the Ecumenical Institute on the West Side of Chicago.
 The day before the course was scheduled to begin, Martin Luther King was assassinated.  From our small-town Iowa perspective, though, we saw no reason not to go to Chicago for the course.
 When we arrived in Chicago after a 5-hour drive on Friday, it was clear that the assassination had catalyzed unrest, but it wasn’t clear what was going to happen.  The others in the car decided to turn around and go home, just in case.  My brother and his family (David and Linda Zahrt, Jay and Heidi) were working at the Institute, and they weren’t fleeing, so I decided to stay.
 The first session on Friday evening began as scheduled in a lower floor room with windows at ground level.   I remember sitting next to what seemed to me to be an older man, Sheldon Hill, and thinking “there is no generation gap”, because we seemed to be on the same page of understanding.  As the session progressed, we heard shouting out on the street and saw legs running by with gun barrels.
 After the session ended, I went up to my dorm room and looked out.  I could see fires burning within a block or so on 3 sides of the building, and on the fourth side was the Eisenhower Expressway filled with cars getting out of the city.
 I went to my brother’s apartment to talk with him and hang out with family. I didn’t want to be alone, as it was pretty scary and I was stranded. After a little while there was a knock on the door, and we were told everyone was evacuating the building, as someone had broken in and tried to start a fire in the building.
 There was a long-unused tunnel between the Institute campus and a hospital across the street.  Somehow the tunnel was opened and we all went across to the hospital basement.  By this time almost every participant had escaped via the expressway, so there were only a couple of participants and Institute staff.  My brother and sister-in-law asked me to watch their two small children, who were wild with the energy around us.  At various points the National Guard would come in to get coffee, and smoke would roll in with them.  Someone had a radio, and we heard that inner cities were burning all over America.  It felt like Armegeddon.
 At daybreak on Saturday, when the rioters were exhausted and it was a bit quieter, we walked across the street back to the Institute.  The entire staff (maybe 40 people) gathered in Room A to decide what to do.  The children were in a nearby room with a couple of mothers.  There were only 3 of us who were not staff, one of whom was the president of the Institute’s board.  I watched as the staff talked through their profound commitment to help the community develop, and the dangers that staying there would have.  In the end, they decided by consensus to stay and risk their lives to support the community, since they had made a commitment.  They also decided to send out the children and the women who were pregnant to friends and supporters in the suburbs for safety, since the children had not made a conscious decision to risk their lives to stay.
 As a non-staff family member who did not live there, I was also sent out with the children to the home of a suburban colleague who was mobilizing her entire network to find places for all the “refugee” kids to stay.  I was then sent to a home in Lake Forest, Illinois, which at the time was the richest town per capita in the world, with two toddlers. David Prather was 1 and Dietrich Laudermilk was 2 years old.  I had no idea of how to take care of toddlers, and spent the night putting them back on the bed after they had rolled off.
 On Sunday morning I was able to get through to my brother and tell him where his kids were, and where I was.  The one other stranded participant was a student from Nebraska, and got in touch with me to ride back with her.  By Sunday afternoon we were on the road home.
 The next day I got up for my first class, but couldn’t make it through.  I came back to the dorm, and slept for 24 hours straight.
 During that event in Chicago, I witnessed a group of people deciding by consensus to risk their lives to honour their commitment to work with the community.  That is a rare experience.  I realized that this group of people were no ordinary group.  Their care was profound.  It’s a big part of the reason I started to work with the Institute (which morphed into the Institute of Cultural Affairs) as soon as I graduated from university, and why I am still with it all these years later.
 Some of the impact of that event was the catalyst that created ICA’s mode of radical participation in development:  it became very obvious that communities didn’t thrive from nice white educated do-gooders trying to help, but that they change deeply from local people and local leadership working collaboratively.  Outsiders have a role in the partnership, but the lead comes from the community.  The facilitative approach as an equal partner is the only way to make a difference.

--
Jo Nelson, CPF, CTF  <jnelson at ica-associates.ca<https://na01.safelinks.protection.outlook.com/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fassociates.ca&data=01%7C01%7Cdm14%40txstate.edu%7Cbaf6ff05101743bd584208d47fb47c4c%7Cb19c134a14c94d4caf65c420f94c8cbb%7C0&sdata=rnEkbWREC%2BXCUf9awbfV9%2B0kxvzyBguSdRAx71rm5Zs%3D&reserved=0>>
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