DC Like a Local

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Most residents of Washington, DC have long since stopped being amused by the antics of former "Mayor For Life" and current City Councilmember Marion Barry. There's nothing that makes me cringe more when I get the almost inevitable question from a visitor as "Marion Barry, isn't he your Mayor?". And it goes beyond simple embarrassment; our long fought and way overdue struggle to achieve a modicum of political rights is inevitably hampered with the response; "Statehood for DC? Why, then Marion Barry would be a Senator!" A fair, if frustrating and unlikely point, although I should point out even if he was, he'd hardly be alone in embarrassing that august institution.

But it does me no good to fight it. While once again my city is embarrassed as yet more disgusting revelations poor forth about Mr. Barry, I've decided to take a little stroll back through his reign in DC. Pretending the residents of Ward 8 will rise up and rid us of him has been fruitless, hoping he will go away fails to work, so let's just admit the man has a certain cachet and let's take a look back through the many places he's graced us in the last three decades.

We should start out by noting that Barry didn't appear out of thin air. He wasn't always the long running joke he is today, and we should remember the conditions that allowed him to achieve power and ultimately hold political office. Washington, DC in the early seventies was just beginning to work itself out after centuries of racial tension, with the 1968 riots following the assassination of Dr. King still fresh in everyone's mind. The two very separate, and not at all equal, worlds of white and black Washington were making the very first outreaches towards each other, amidst a legacy of mistrust and outright hate. The old older was dead, but the way forward was hardly clear.

Into this chaotic brew stepped a personable civil rights leader, former chemistry teacher, and Eagle Scout; Marion Shepilov Berry, Jr. Avowedly anti-establishment, he had added the middle name in college as a homage to Soviet propagandist Dmtiri Shepilov. He moved to DC as head of the local Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee, and got off to a strong start by organizing a boycott of DC Transit, Washington's bus system, in protest of a 5 cent fare increase. He would soon quit the SNCC, which was becoming increasingly militant, as opportunities started to open within city government. Barry was elected to the DC School Board, the only form of local democracy permitted the residents of Washington in 1971, and, when Home Rule changed that in 1974, he won an at-large seat on the new City Council. Slowly but steadily he moved up the ladder of DC politics, working more within the system and attacking it less from outside as time went on.

While serving as a Council-member, Marion Barry would be vaulted into nationwide prominence by a chaotic and deadly terrorist attack. A group of American-born Muslims, styling themselves as Hanalfi, seized three buildings in Washington, DC: the headquarters of B'nai B'rith on Rhode Island Avenue; the Islamic Center on Massachusetts Ave; and DC's City Hall (now known as the Wilson Building) on Pennsylvania Avenue. In the chaos of the attack, Marion Barry was hit with a ricocheted shotgun pellet in the chest, although he was relatively lucky with a superficial wound. WHUR-FM reporter Maurice Williams was killed in the attack (the fifth floor press room has been renamed for him) and DC Protective Service Police Officer Mark Cantrell died a few days later of a heart attack. The subsequent publicity would be enough for Barry to win the Mayoral election over incumbent Walter Washington.

Mayor Barry was initially of the darling of Georgetown. Liberal whites were attracted to his fiery personality and he actively courted the gay vote by helping to pass the 1978 DC Human Rights Act, which prohibited discrimination based on sexual identity. They were willing to overlook his demands that white owned businesses leave after the '68 riots, his 1970 call for residents to shoot Police Officers executing no-knock warrants, or his urging of African Americans to boycott the celebrations surrounding the Apollo 11 mission. And he got off to a good start, breaking the logjam of a housing development project on Bates Street NW, 15 blocks north of the Capitol and seeming to genuinely attempt to address the concerns of residents. His Summer Youth Employment Program is still fondly remembered by many of the thousands of youths now grown who were provided jobs. He even would occasionally put his Masters in Chemistry to use, substitute teaching at Fletcher-Johnston Educational Center in Capitol Heights.

However, cracks were starting to appear in the facade. On December 22, 1981, Barry attended a Christmas party at "This is It?", a downtown strip club, and allegations soon surfaced that he had either used cocaine, or witnessed others do the same. At the time, a police investigation revealed nothing, which in turn sparked an inquiry by the Justice Department about the inability of DC's police to properly investigate the Mayor. Years later, the owner of the club, Hassan H. Mohammadi, would testify in court that Barry had, in fact, used cocaine here.

Marion Barry's antics would become more and more public throughout the 1980s as his cocaine (and occasionally marijuana) use became an increasingly open secret. Join us tomorrow when they all come to a crashing halt (and you know how that'll happen).

While we've covered the history of slavery and its aftermath at Arlington, as well as a few of the many African Americans in the military, we're still missing substantial segments of the story. I'm talking, of course, of those people who, while they may have served in the military, are best known for accomplishments out of uniform.

Arlington is full of the graves of those who fit this profile, black and white. Some are here after receiving a dispensation from Congress or the President. Some fit the requirements for Congressmen, Cabinet Secretaries, and Supreme Court Justices. Some are even the spouses of those who are eligible through conventional means. And some are those who served honorably for a few years before persuing other avenues. We're going to look at just a few of those African Americans who fit this profile, and who, not coincidentally, happen to be on or near my standard walking tour of the Cemetery.

We'll start with Medgar Evers, the well known Civil Rights hero. Medgar Evers was shot and killed on June 12, 1963, just a few hours after President Kennedy gave a particularly important speech in support of civil rights. The nationwide publicity surrounding his death helped put a lie to the idea that the push for full equality in the South was instigated by "Northern agitators". Evers was born and raised in Mississippi, leaving the state only during World War II, when he served in the Army in the European Theater.

From Medger Evers' grave, head up Custis Walk towards President Kennedy's tomb, and you'll come across an area known as "Justice's corner", the final resting place of seven Supreme Court Justices (eight if you count Chief Justice Rehnquist, just down the hill). Notable among them is the grave of Associate Justice Thurgood Marshall. Well known for being the first African American Justice on the Court, I prefer to focus on his earlier years. After being denied access to the University of Maryland School of Law due to his race, Thurgood Marshall crossed state lines into DC to graduate first in his class at Howard University School of Law in 1933. In short order he managed to get Maryland's discriminatory practices overturned in Murray v. Pearson. With this success and with a Supreme Court win under his belt already, he became the Chief Counsel for  the NAACP in 1940 at the age of 32. He would go on to extend his record in front of the Court to 32 appearances, with 29 wins. The most notable of course, was the landmark Brown v. Board of Education, which as every eighth grader should know, struck down public school segregation.

From here, if you continue down Eisenhower Ave, you'll come to a collection of benches just below the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. As you pause for a minute, you'll see the grave of Joe Louis. Racking up an even better record than Thurgood Marshall, the Brown Bomber lost only one fight in his first 69 fights, to the German Max Schmeling in a twelfth round knock out in 1936. Seen by many as a proxy for the build up to World War II, the rematch in Yankee Stadium in 1938 lasted only two minutes, with Joe Louis the victor and Max Schmeling spending ten days in a New York hospital recovering. Regarding as one of, if not the first, African Americans to be widely accepted by white America, Joe Louis is also credited for helping to clean up the sport of boxing from gambling interests and even went on to help break the color barrier in the golf world. Upon his death, President Reagan waved some technical barriers to his interment in Arlington (Joe Louis had served in the Army in WWII) and he is buried in Section 7A, right next to actor and Marine Lee Marvin.

Medgar Evers, Thurgood Marshall, and Joe Louis are just a few of the well known African Americans resting in Arlington and while the subject is hardly exhausted, I am. Maybe next year we'll revisit the topic and examine the graves of other folks who you may have never heard of but helped shape the country we live in. For now, I hope you come visit Arlington National Cemetery as something else besides the final resting place of President Kennedy and the Tomb of the Unknowns.

Once Arlington had shed it's slave-day past, and the last freed slaves had left Freedman's Village, the area fell into the rhythms of a military cemetery. Although serving in a largely segregated military, African Americans would be among some of the earliest soldiers and sailors to be be buried in the new cemetery. Reflecting its early use as a cemetery of convenience, many African American solders from the Civil War are often interspersed with white soldiers, although attempts were made to segregate them. A black soldier's grave can be identified as it will have U.S.C.T after the name, for U.S. Colored Troops. These graves are generally in Sections 27 (the same location as the graves of residents of Freedman's Village, discussed yesterday) and 23 (near the Confederate Memorial ironically).

Following the war, African Americans continued to serve and Civil War veterans continued to die, both to be buried at Arlington. Major Alexander Augusta, one of only a hundred black officers (out of 180,000 who served), is buried in Section 1 (site 124-A), near the Ft. Myer chapel where many funerals are held (and where I was married). Last year, one of 20 Buffalo Soldiers to receive the Medal of Honor was interred in Section 1 (site 630-B) after it was discovered his grave in Arizona had, I kid you not, been paved over. Cpl. Issiah Mays, a former slave, was awarded the Medal for crawling more than two miles to get help after his convey had been ambushed in 1889. He had been shot in both legs. Two other African American Medal of Honor recipients from this time period are buried her as well, Pvt. Dennis Bell (Sec 31/site 349) and Master Sergeant George Wanton (Sec 4/site 2749). They were two of four soldiers from the 10th Calvary Regiment to go ashore under hostile fire to save allied Cuban insurgents during the Spanish-American War. Additionally, 22 of the 163 sailors buried at Arlington from the explosion on the USS Maine are black. They are all buried in Section 24, near the mast of the Maine.

Ironically, by the time the United States had entered World War I, racial progress in many ways had slipped from where it had been in the late nineteenth century. While African Americans were routinely assigned to combat units in the Civil War, Indian Wars, and Spanish American Wars; by World War I they were largely restricted to labor and supply units. When they did serve in combat, their contributions were often overlooked. Only one Medal of Honor was awarded to an African American, and that was not until posthumously in 1991.

One African American from that time to be buried at Arlington is Colonel Charles Young (Sec 3/site 1730-B). The first African American to hold that rank, Col. Young was the third black man to graduate West Point, the first African American to be the superintendent of a National Park (Sequoia), and a squadron commander in Gen. Pershing's raid into Mexico to chase Pancho Villa. At the outbreak of World War I, Col. Taylor was suddenly discovered to have high blood pressure, and medically discharged, presumably to avoid having to make him a general in the wartime expansion. After riding his horse from Ohio to DC to prove his physical fitness, Col. Taylor was reinstated but died in Nigeria while serving as an advisor to Liberia in 1922. Col. Taylor's funeral service was in the Memorial Amphitheater, one of only a handful of services to be held there.

Following the relegation to secondary roles in World War I, African American leaders insisted that black soldiers be assigned meaningful roles in World War II. Perhaps best known of these, but by no means the only, was the Tuskegee Airmen. The Army Air Force created an all-black fighter group, the 332 Fighter Group, eventually commanded by Gen. Benjamin O. Davis, Jr.  General Davis was the fourth African American to graduate from West Point in 1936 (the first since Col. Taylor), and was shunned by his fellow cadets the entire four years there. When he graduated, he would be one of only two African-American line officers in the U.S. Army; the other being his father, then Col. Benjamin Davis, Sr. Col. Davis, Sr. would go onto be be the first black General in the U.S. Army, capping off his forty two years of military service as a Brigadier General. Gen. Davis, Jr. would be promoted to full General after his retirement under President Clinton.

However the title of first African American full General would go to Air Force Gen. Daniel "Chappie" James. Gen. James would go on to serve in an integrated military after his start as a Tuskegee Airmen, flying combat missions in Korea and Vietnam. He was awarded his forth star in 1975. Gen. James, Gen. Davis, Jr., and BGen. Davis, Sr., are all buried in close proximity to each other in Section 2, just past the statue of Sir John Dill on Roosevelt Drive. Gen. James is to your right, and the Davis's are across the road to your left. Gen. Davis, Jr. has a large black tombstone on the top of the hill, and BGen. Davis, Sr. has a government issue headstone between the top and the road. Further up the drive, just below the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, in Section 7a (site 18), is Gen. Roscoe Robinson, the first black Army four star General.

This is hardly meant to be an exhaustive list of African Americans who have served in the military and are buried in Arlington, but it includes some whose stories intrigue me. Join us tomorrow when we wrap up our visit to Arlington by looking at some folks buried here who are best known for what they did out of uniform.

Section 27 by M.V. Jantzen

As I'm sure most of you know, February is Black History Month, a tradition started by DC's own Carter G. Woodson. Now, since Dr. Woodson established what was then known as Negro History Week in 1926, there has been discussion and debate as to whether the observance creates ade facto segregation of our view of history. Imagine for a moment visiting Mt. Vernon and being told, "In February, we discuss the lives of the slaves and free blacks on the plantation, and for the other eleven months we discuss the history of George Washington." Silly, and of course not at all how the folks at Mt. Vernon handle the topic. But it can be instructive to take some time to focus on a segment of our past that was often overlooked, and in that vein, we'll take a little time to examine a standard part of the DC tour in a new light.

There are many attractions in the DC area where it's possible to focus in greater depth on the African-American experience (and we hope that Dr. Woodson's house will soon be one of those). But for today I'd like to focus on a site which most people consider a must-see in your trip to Washington, but is not normally thought of in the context of African-American history: Arlington National Cemetery.

African Americans at Arlington of course long predates it's development as a National Cemetery. As a working plantation, Arlington used slaves to work the fields, perform manual tasks, and even to build the house that you see today. George Washington's adopted son George Washington ParkeCustis family brought slaves over from Mt. Vernon in 1802 when he built the farm. The Custis family at times owned hundreds of slave on their various farms, but unlike normal practice, gave them a basic education and even ordered all of his slaves to be freed upon the death of George Washington Parke Custis.. However, the will's executor, his son-in-law Robert E. Lee, read the document to mean freeing the slaves five years from his death, and used their labor to work the plantation until then, even going so far as to as to have three runaways chased down and possibly whipped. Eventually, the last slaves at Arlington on December 29, 1862 were formally freed, two months and nineteen days after the five year mark of Custis's death.

Some remnants of slave life on the plantation remain for visitors to witness. Behind Arlington House lies slave quarters, or at least those of the more favored house servants. Most notable among them was Selena Grey, the personal maid to Mary Custis Lee, the wife of Robert E. Lee. Mary Lee was quite infirm, and close proximity to the house was required so that Selena could tend to her. It would be Selena's children who would provide critical details in the 1929-30 restoration of Arlington House that ensure the site we see today resembles the original.

While Selena and her husband would leave Arlington after the war, one man bridged the gap between Southern plantation and military cemetery. Another of the 63 slaves owned by the Custis-Lee family, James Parks, was, we think, about 18 years old when the Lees abandoned Arlington to head south. He remained at the site when it was occupied by Union soldiers and after the war became a grave digger and maintenance man around the Cemetery, a position he held until 1925. Upon his death in 1929, the Secretary of War, Henry Stimson, gave special permission for Mr. Parks to be buried in Section 15, near the gate to Ft. Myer and, ironically, just across the road from the Confederate Memorial. Interestingly enough, while his owners, the Custis's, are both buried at a family plot in the Cemetery, neither was born here; making James Parks the only person to be both born and buried at Arlington National Cemetery.

Obviously, once the Civil War started, the situation at Arlington rapidly changed. By the time Lee formally freed his slaves, events had overtaken him and the farm was occupied by Union troops. As Washington became an armed camp, "contrabands", or slaves freed by Union troops fled to the city. Additionally, the slaves of Washington, DC were freed by the Compensated Emancipation Act on April 16, 1862, the nations only attempt to pay people to free slaves. To deal with this the Federal government set up several camps in the area, and used the grounds of the Lee plantation to build a model village, known as Freedman's Village. The Village was administered by the Freedman's Bureau until 1883 and no trace of it remains today. It is believed to have stood on what is now Eisenhower Drive, in sections 8/47/25. There are tentative plans to build a Black Heritage Museum of Arlington on property just outside of Arlington National Cemetery, which would help tell the story of Freedman's Village.

Up to 1,100 people lived on the site, and it grew to include log homes, churches, schools, and even a 50 bed hospital. While somewhat rustic and initially under somewhat strict military discipline, the inhabitants at Freedman's Village did fare better than their counterparts in camps within DC. However, in the thirty years free blacks lived at the site, some 3,800 died and were buried in Section 27, just along the edge of the Cemetery near the Iwo Jima Memorial. Their graves are marked as "citizen" or "civilian", and it is the largest section of non-military graves in Arlington. They are still visible today, although a bit off the normal tour.

We'll call it a day for now, but join us tomorrow when we explore more about the African-American legacy of Arlington National Cemetery.

Although the Vietnam Veterans Memorial got off to a rough start, once built it quickly became an American cultural icon. It proved to be incredibly popular and soon became a focal point for healing for all those that lived through those turbulent times.

Witnessing this, veterans of other wars displayed a renewed interest in memorials designed to capture the experience and commemorate all who fought in a specific conflict. Servicemembers who had participated in the Korean Conflict, often called with some justification "the Forgotten War", sought recognition of their sacrifices on the National Mall, and in 1992, the Korean War Veterans Memorial opened.

Now, while to me the Korean Memorial lacks the emotional impact of the Vietnam Wall, it is a very well put together Memorial full of symbolism and visual interest. Built on the opposite side of the Mall from the Vietnam Memorial, it balances the Wall nicely around the Lincoln Memorial. Designed purposely to evoke the Wall, it also contains a polished black granite wall, etched not with names, but with archival photos of servicemembers from the Korean Conflict.

These soldiers, sailors and airmen look out on 19 cast-steel statues, the real focal point of the Memorial. The statues represent 14 soldiers, 3 Marines, an Air Force Forward Air Controller, and a Navy Corpsman (medic for you land-lubbers). But beyond the diversity of the various Armed Forces, lies a more profound expression of diversity. The statues represent every ethnic group found in America, which was particularly fitting as this was the first war that America fought with an integrated military. No longer confined to separate units, the military was integrated well before our schools, by executive order of President Truman.

The number 19 is not random, either. It's half of 38, which has a dual significance as the 38th parallel of latitude that separated the two Koreas and the number of months the War (or technically "Police Action") lasted. Why half? Reportedly, they wanted to do the full number, but were restricted in size. If you look at the right spot, on the lower corner right next to the granite wall, you will see the statues reflected in the wall, right next to the actual ones, making a total of, you guessed it, 38.

Many will claim that this Memorial is best visited at night, and I won't argue with them, but if you get the opportunity, visit the Memorial after a decent snowfall. They're few and far between, at least catching them before the "wintery mix" turns it into ice, but the Memorial is stunning in the snow. The entire Memorial is designed to capture the rugged and hostile nature of the Korean Conflict, with weather at times as much an enemy as the North Koreans or Chinese. A fact which I can personally attest to, having been covered in a sheet of ice on my ship while conducting exercises in South Korea. Among the elements portraying this: the ponchos of the soldiers sculpted in a fluid manner, the gentle rise meant to evoke the rocky terrain, and the rise and fall of the etched faces on the reflecting wall, which when looked at from the distance as a pattern look as if they provide a mountain backdrop to the Memorial.

So perhaps its fitting that today, Veteran's Day, is a cold, wet, miserable day here in DC. Think of it as a good day to get the full Korean War Veterans Memorial experience.