Policing in America

Policing is always hard and difficult. It is also many times not good for anyone, including the police officer. Most say it's a necessary evil that we need to accept, put up with for the greater good. It's at the core of a lot of other things in society and government. Things like courts and prisons are the direct result of policing. From there, agencies and systems have developed. Things like probation departments and various support and prevention agencies all have their roots in policing and arrests. So it has certainly become complicated over the yers, decades and centuries. Yet we consistently give people guns, handcuffs and other tools to arrest and detain more people.

In the evolution of policing in America however, biases and discrimination have taken over, along with the abuse of power by many who are hired to perform these duties of control and "peace" keeping. Why is it that people of color, poor people, people who are different are targeted by police agencies across the country? Who provides this direction and these policies in cities, towns, villages and municipalities? We all share some blame in this and we all share some responsibility - everyone who wants safety in their lives, everyone who lets public officials know what is acceptable and of course those who fear people who don't look or act like them. Principles of nonviolence, non confrontation and deescalation have to be a major part of discussions and reforms.

But the policing problem is much bigger than these things alone. In many cases, police authorities are running the show based on their own interpretation of what they believe is good for everyone else. In addition, people who are hired for policing positions bring plenty of biases with them. It may be from experiences in the military, from their upbringing or from colleagues. Wherever it comes from, it is deep-seated and yes, attitudes about power and control are built into the equation of policing.

With all of that being said, what we're seeing and what communities of color have been seeing for years relative to policing and the use of force is totally out of balance. People are being abused, shot and are dying for the most minor offenses. Why are men and women of color being pulled over for minor infractions that lead to death? Why are people even pulled over for some of these infractions? How important are traffic violations? These are serious questions that need to be answered. Police departments and municipalities need to figure out why their training on deescalation seems to be failing. What is the mind set of police looking for confrontation, chasing, pursuing and terminating lives over misdemeanors? Why, when tragedies happen do police agencies set themselves up in tit for tat battles with the communities they are supposed to be serving?

Although it's tempting, we can't turn away from videos of people being killed or abused by the police. Of course they're disturbing but so are the experiences people are living or dying through. We can't turn away from trials and demonstrations. People of color and other minorities have been living with absolute fear of the reality of what happens to them when confronted by the police. But most of all, police agencies and police officers have to stop the battle with members of their communities. They have to stop the emphasis on force and retaliation. They have to stop presenting themselves as military entities with wartime equipment that can be used to battle their communities.  

The Catholic Worker 1965

**I am in the process of writing a short Memoir. Not really for publication but more as a historical document for my two sons and granddaughters. It contains family history, upbringing, etc. Below is a chapter I've written about the Catholic Worker. This is only a portion of what I've written on that time frame but some readers may be interested in some of this history as I saw it.

I had recently returned to St. Anselm College from a few weeks in Selma, Alabama participating in the voter rights demonstrations. While there I knew I was ill, but nothing was diagnosed until I got back to the college campus. It turned out that I had pneumonia and I soon developed pleurisy which ultimately led to a collapsed lung. My illness in Manchester, NH led to other things. My parents had arrived while I was in the hospital. They had met with the president and Abbot at the college and my disappearance it seems had been forgiven by college officials. But other things were going on. My interest peaked in new ideas, nonviolence, social justice, the draft. The war in Vietnam was raging and students and professors were discussing how these things would be impacting the lives of everyone. I had already sent my 4D draft card back to my local draft board. I was classified as 4D, a religious deferment, due to my previous enrollment at Maryknoll Seminary. All of that would change soon enough.

While lying in my hospital bed, one of the priests from St. Anselm’s brought me a few copies of the Catholic Worker newspaper. I began reading things that I had never heard before from traditional church writings. I read articles by Dorothy Day about her travels, about the need for volunteers and workers, I met people in those pages, people like Thomas Merton, Dan Berrigan, Italian Mike, Mad Paul, Julia, Scotty. I saw people writing about the works of mercy in the here and now, about war and peace, about taking action, about going to jail.

There, in the hospital, I started talking to my mother and father about the Catholic Worker and my desire to see and work at a place like that. They tried to understand but clearly didn’t. They told the priest to stop bringing me all that material. They talked to the doctors and wondered if all of the medicine was affecting my thinking. After a week or so it was decided that it may be best for me to go home to New Jersey to rest and recuperate. The college would keep my spot open for the rest of the semester.

Conversations with my parents went nowhere on both sides. I decided at a certain point that I would go to the Catholic Worker in NYC for a visit in the early summer of 1965. A few old high school friends took me to the city and dropped me off. I was there for a visit but never left until FBI agents took me away close to two years later to serve a 3 year sentence in federal prison.

The Catholic Worker in 1965 had numerous young people at St. Joseph’s House of Hospitality located at 175 Chrystie St. in NYC. Young people who had come from various parts of the country. Some attracted by the overall philosophy of the Worker and others who came specifically around anti-war activities and pacifist beliefs. There were older, more experienced Catholic Workers like Walter Kerrell who was in charge of the office area, Ed Forand, who basically ran house operations and Marty Corbin, managing editor of the monthly newspaper. Walter and Ed lived in apartments in the city and Marty basically traveled between Tivoli, NY where the Catholic Worker operated Peter Maurin Farm, and NYC. Marty’s family lived at the farm and he would come to the city for about a week each month to pull the paper together and get the final copy to the printer. Chris Kerns was another operational person at Chrystie St. He was kind of a bridge between the older folks and the younger volunteers who were showing up. By that time, Tom Cornell had phased out of any operational aspects of the Worker and was working full time with Jim Forest at the newly formed Catholic Peace Fellowship. Chris basically showed me the ropes of driving the old CW van to the produce market where we begged for cases of vegetables and other food. He also showed me the process for getting flop house rooms for some of the folks from the Bowery who we couldn’t find sleeping space for at Chrystie St or at one of the apartments that the CW rented. You had to be a quick learner because as soon as someone showed you something, you were bound to be put in charge of that activity. 

At one point as an example, I became known as the ‘benign bouncer’, taking on responsibility at the front door during the soup line. The job required listening and observational skills along with negotiating and quick thinking. Things were not always pleasant. Alcohol and drugs could cause major personality changes in people who a few moments before were your best friend. The front window, a large plate glass affair, became a frequent target of stones, bricks, bottles or elbows. 

The essence of the Catholic Worker has always been the people who make it up and the sights and sounds of those people. The smells, some pleasant and others not very. Tobacco, coffee, potatoes and soup along with body orders and aged clothing were all part of life at the Catholic Worker. The lines between volunteers or staff and people supported or helped were easily blurred which was a good thing. Nicknames existed for almost everyone. None were meant to be insulting and some were chosen by the person named.

There certainly was a lot to learn. Making coffee in huge urns first thing in the morning and then soup for 150 to 200 people a day, setting tables, going to the clothing room and sorting through donated shoes, pants, shirts and coats for folks who needed them. There were other things that you kind of learned on the fly like answering the phone or breaking up fights in the dining area, at the door or in front of the building. Most importantly, learning also consisted of relationships with co-workers who could be a person who had lived on the Bowery for years or a young person like yourself from Oregon or Texas. Personalities galore, that was the Catholic Worker and you just became one of the many others who made up that voluntary community.

Dorothy Day, co-founder with Peter Maurin, of the Catholic Worker movement and newspaper was the star of the show however. To a young man feeling his way around the politics of war, peace and social justice, she was amazing as well as a bit scary. She was, in her own words, a benevolent dictator. When she arrived at the front door of St. Joseph’s, the House of Hospitality on Chrystie Street operated by the Catholic Worker, people would do one of two things, scatter or flock. I was part ignorant and very much in awe of this strong woman so I tried to melt into the background and just do the work that I had been doing before she showed up. Dorothy spent much of her time at that point in her life either at the Catholic Worker farm in Tivoli, NY or traveling. She had numerous speaking engagements as well as her daughter and her grandchildren living in Vermont.

Living in a community always has challenges. Dorothy experienced them as much as anyone else but she also had the burden of being the assumed leader and arbitrator. When she walked into St. Joe’s or the Farm, there was a reason for people to scatter or flock. Every grievance, no matter how small or how big would be brought to her attention. Should we provide margarine on the tables to go with the bread on the soup line everyday, or should we keep it just for the permanent people housed at the Worker? How many times should we replace the large pane glass window out front when Arthur or Mike will just come back after their next binge and break it again? What should we do about the increased prices at the flop houses on the Bowery where we housed some long time friends? Dorothy usually had much bigger problems to solve like paying the printer or fixing infrastructure at one of the Worker’s properties. Sometimes she would grow weary of what may have been important questions to someone but at the same time pretty trite to her. So she’d answer simply “butter for everyone” or “if it’s broken fix it” and then go upstairs to face some of the bigger issues or just to rest from her trip to or from or perhaps to pray for the poor souls she had just left downstairs unable to make simple decisions. 

It seemed to me that Dorothy, no matter where she was coming from or going to, was in fact, always escaping. Escaping from the farm, escaping from Vermont, escaping from NYC or escaping from a long and difficult journey, on pilgrimage as it were. But in her escaping from the pressures of one place, she was being welcomed at another, having a bit of recuperation and eventually facing new pressures and challenges of the present.

Friday Night Meetings, a cornerstone of the Catholic Worker, were or could be an intriguing and interesting experience. These were meant to be the place where scholars and workers could share thoughts and ideas, clarification of thought as Peter Maurin had preached. People would come from all over to hear ideas and to start or finish arguments. Always interesting to see who might show up. People like Norman Mailer, Jimmy Breslin, Ed Sanders founder of The Fugs, Malachy McCourt, Grace Paley, Paddy Chayefsky, Allen Ginsberg, Abbie Hoffman and more. Interesting folks sharing sassafras tea with people who called the Bowery home. These folks weren't present all the time or all at once but one or two may show up for a particular talk or topic, mixing with everyone else.

I didn’t spend lots of time personally with Dorothy but when I did it was usually about writing or on the prospect of prison. She enjoyed talking to young people (sometimes). She also felt very responsible for those she knew were facing hard decisions about the draft and war resistance. Where I really got to know Dorothy though was through observation. I watched her with visitors, with people from the soup line, with the famous and not so famous who would come to Friday Night Meetings. I saw her interact at conferences with people from other organizations. She and I even sat together for a radio interview on WBAI about draft resistance, conscientious objection and the War in Vietnam where I watched her take complex issues and turn them into clear and concise statements and ideas. I watched her at the farm in Tivoli interacting with her own family or the Corbin family. She was highly respected by other organizations in the peace movement and recognized for her judgement and opinions.

Having said that, It was not always easy to watch or interact with Dorothy. She, like every one else, had her flaws and rough spots. She could be very hard on people, some might say insensitive. Dorothy could speak in short, brief bullets that could sometimes be seen as too clear. She was quick to judge and was certainly opinionated. But she would also think things through and apologize when necessary. I didn’t give her a free pass on things either. I and other folks involved at the Worker often questioned her actions or inactions. Youthful exuberance sometimes had us doing things our own way, making sure that we waited for Dorothy to be off on another trip before we changed things back to the way we thought they should be done. Years later I realize Dorothy most likely knew all of this was happening as quickly as she got out the door.

But I certainly learned a lot from this woman who had seen so much in her own life. First, I learned to be strong and unafraid. To support others no matter who they were or how great their need. To be kind but also angry if necessary. To always speak up when you saw injustice. To realize that we can all be part of a community of saints, perhaps a bit ragged, bruised and imperfect but in the end, a community of saints. To laugh and to love writing, or cooking, or singing or whatever your talent may be.

The personalism and Christian anarchy of the Catholic Worker was what made everything work. These were also the values that helped me evolve into who I became over the years.

One of the last times I saw Dorothy was in a courtroom in New Jersey where I was being sentenced for refusal to report for induction. Dorothy had made the trip to Newark to support me in my decision and to let me know that the Catholic Worker community would support me and my family while I was in prison. We stole a glance at each other as I was led away, sentenced to three years in the custody of the Attorney General (Federal Prison). 

I went to visit Dorothy in 1980 at Maryhouse in NYC, right before she passed away, but we didn’t see each other due to her weakened condition.

An Open Letter To Mayor De Blasio & Cardinal Dolan

*It has been pointed out to me since the publication of this piece, that the Staten Island Ferry is a free service for passengers and has been for a good number of years. Fares were not really my point. The fact is that there are those who are treated differently due to the way they look or act, along with many other reasons. They are the vulnerable. They are often shunned and viewed by some as the disposable elements of society. Initially they're stared at, then talked about and in too many cases asked by or taken by authorities and removed from our sight. 

Dear Mayor De Blasio & Cardinal Dolan (both Your Eminences)

It was only a matter of days ago that your offices issued a press release concerning the naming of one of a trio of brand new ferries in honor of Dorothy Day, servant of God and servant of the poor as well as a spokesperson for peace and justice. It mentioned her love for Staten Island where she once lived in a humble cottage that has since been torn down to make room for economic development. It mentioned her love and passion for laborers and workers. It is good that her name will be associated with part of the transit system that gets people back and forth to work. I know you've had challenges with the Covid-19 pandemic, making sure subways are clean. Sadly, to do that you needed to clear and empty them each night of the homeless and down and outers who had also become bothersome over the years.

It also mentioned the cost of the project and how much the City and Staten Island needed to replace part of its fleet for the benefit of residents of the area. I'm sure project managers and infrastructure experts as well cost accountants and researchers, created many pages of documents supporting everything having to do with this project. And yes, the fact is, it's completed and done. There is little time for discussion now. The need is there, the boat is built, the money spent and she's on her way to the NY Harbor as I write.

There were others who were suggested for naming but you decided to honor Dorothy in this way. Thank you for providing this platform for people to learn about her and her work. Thank you for providing an opportunity for people to really talk about the Beatitudes and the Sermon on the Mount. Dorothy loved to speak and write about the contradictions between the works of mercy and the works of war. Perhaps more people will engage in those conversations with your help.

I have been accused in the past of being a constant critic. Never happy with solutions or possible solutions found by those in charge. Never stopping the wag of a critic's tongue and unable to be satisfied no matter what. But I've been working hard on this and to that end, I come to you both with a proposal for the good ship 'Dorothy Day'.

First let me say that I'm fearful that some poor soul, perhaps even I, will look for shelter on this ferry and quickly be told to be gone (off at the next stop of course), told to stop my begging or bothering the space of the other customers. So please consider this......Designate 5 spaces on each trip (5 by the way is an arbitrary number by me. You can go as high as you like) to the NYC Catholic Worker. They can set up whatever anarchistic method they choose to take care of these seats. In the end, they'll just make sure people can access them. Poor people or people down on their luck on a particular day. Perhaps someone who just needs a ride on the waves and wind in their hair. Maybe someone who just got a lousy diagnosis from their hospital stay or someone in a bad relationship or someone leaving or going to jail. If the seats aren't used on some trips, that's ok. The existence of these guest seats would be another reminder to people traveling on the ferry that Dorothy had a message for all of us about the poor and about injustice.

"We must talk about poverty, because people insulated by their own comfort lose sight of it." Dorothy Day

Andrew Cuomo - Stay or Go?

I am no real fan of Andrew Cuomo. In the years that I worked in the nonprofit sector in NYS, I saw how he operated. He would create highly complicated systems to replace structures that already existed and may have required some minor tweaking. He would demand public support for his initiatives without opportunities to review and discuss. Many times he would ignore the needs of vulnerable people and the people who supported them. And yes, he was mean spirited, aggressive and vindictive. New York tough as he would say.

Over the past month, allegations have been made about his treatment of women. Some may sound more plausible than others but all should be investigated and taken seriously. Having said that, I think the calls for his immediate resignation or impeachment are premature and not in the best interest of justice or best practice. Due process is important for everyone. The women making the allegations and the Governor all deserve due process and I think the NYS Attorney General is capable of making sure that occurs.

The reality is that Andrew Cuomo has few friends. His tough guy persona, his take no enemies approach, have left him very vulnerable. His lousy relationship with the press, his lack of public accountability certainly don't serve him well in this crisis. But his likability shouldn't really be the issue here. A timely but patient, impartial review of facts should be the path to follow.

Is it possible to keep politics out of all of this? Probably not but we should try. The last thing we need is the hypocrisy of politicians and some members of the press who wouldn't or haven't spoken out about other powerful men and their abusive actions towards women over the past four or five years. Pretend outrage doesn't serve anyone well. Acting as though Democrats are the only people touching women inappropriately is ridiculous at this point in our political history.

So, although I don't agree with him on everything, Andrew Cuomo has done some positive things in his tenure as Governor. He has led well during a number of difficult times. He is flawed like the rest of us but does deserve a process rather than a lynching.

Followup & Return Trips To Selma

As you read below, please remember there are now 253 bills in 43 states to restrict voting access. Voter suppression is alive and well.....And this weekend the 56th reenactment of the march will take place virtually. Find out more at www.selmajubilee.com

Return Trips

In February of 2003 I got a phone call from a journalist friend. I'll always be grateful to her for that call. She told me that during a regularly scheduled conference call with the press, Congressman Amo Houghton who represented the Southern Tier region of NYS, had mentioned a trip he was taking with Congressman John Lewis to Selma, Alabama in March for the reenactment of the bridge crossing that had happened there many years before. Gwen mentioned to the Congressman that she knew someone in the district who had participated in the original march. Within days of that call I was contacted by Congressman Houghton's office and invited to participate in the pilgrimage back to Selma.

It turns out that the trip was much more then a trip to Selma. John Lewis and Amo Houghton had been working together for a number of years with an organization called the Faith and Politics Institute. At that time the organization was led by Doug Tanner. Lewis and Houghton were trying to work on the principle of civility in congress. They were true brothers in that effort. They were from completely different backgrounds but they had found common ground and were committed to working together. The pilgrimage had been going on for a number of years and continues to this day. During the pilgrimage, Lewis and other leaders of the civil rights movement take a large group of Senators and Congressman, along with guests to the historical landmarks of the civil rights movement - Montgomery, Birmingham and finally on Sunday to Selma and the crossing of the Edmond Pettus Bridge. But it is different than it was in 1965. On Sunday and throughout their trip they are escorted by black and white troopers and sheriffs. Throughout the trip, John Lewis told stories in only the way he can, about the experiences of black America in the 60's and before.

But let me tell you about my experience returning on that March in 2003. I drove to Washington, DC and met Congressman Houghton at the Capitol on the morning we were to leave. I got on the bus that we were taking from the Capitol to the airport and sat down with elected officials of the United States Congress along with people like Jack Kemp, former Congressman and football great from Buffalo. A police escort with sirens blaring took us through Washington and to the airport. I was mesmerized and a bit confused, out of sorts, out of body perhaps. Things didn't seem right. This was all very legal. I don't think anyone, including myself realized what a shock all of this was going to be to me. I was literally dumbfounded.

We visited all of the important places that honor the civil rights movement and its leaders and foot soldiers. Here are a few pictures of that trip. The first is of Congressman John Lewis and myself. John Lewis is a personal hero of mine. He was beaten to the ground in 1965 at the front of the march along with Rev. Hosea Williams. The second is a picture of the Mayor of Selma, James Perkins, myself and Congressman Amo Houghton at the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma.

As Amo Houghton and I walked toward the bridge in Selma, we drifted toward the back of the crowd away from the media crunch that always seems to be following the folks up front. We chatted as we walked and eventually were joined by a man to our left. It turned out to be James Perkins, Jr. the first black Mayor elected in Selma in 2000. We told our stories. Perkins was 10 when the original march took place. He could have been one of those youngsters who inspired me so many years ago with their song and spirit - fearless young leaders. He could have been my co-conspirator and partner running through the woods to the courthouse through the public housing pictured below across from Brown Chapel. As we neared the bridge, he put his hand on my shoulder, took my hand and said, "You know the only reason I'm the Mayor of this city is because of you and people like you." We hugged. It was an emotional moment for both of us.

Fast forward to 2010. That was the year I decided I was going to go back to Selma again but on my own. I was going to get in my car and make my own pilgrimage and I did. Only it wasn't on my own. I invited my older brother and oldest son, both living in New Jersey to join me. Again, these trips are emotional for me and this time we were able to see more of Selma and the poverty that is a part of the landscape today. But we also met good people both black and white who understand their history better than us. We were a bit lost one day and my son asked two bike patrol officers for some directions and information. We ended up seeing these officers over and over and suddenly came to the realization that the city was pretty small and directions pretty simple. At one of these encounters one of the young officers came over and engaged me in some conversation. He asked if I was one of the original marchers? I answered in the affirmative. He was white and his partner was black, both in their late twenties or early thirties. What he said next was another one of those emotional surprises. He apologized to me for the actions of law enforcement officers in 1965 and he meant it. He was ashamed of their actions and the way people were treated. I thanked him for his kind words.

I went back for the 50th celebration and reenactment in Selma in 2015. I shared that time with my youngest son Brian and my wife Jeannette. The tradition and experience should go on. Make the trip.