H ow did Congressman and Reverend Adam Clayton Powell Jr. become so influential beyond his home district and with its myriad constituents? For one, Powell was an ordained Baptist minister at a time when Baptist ministers were, proverbially, a dime a dozen. Additionally, he inherited the "gift of gab" and his world-renowned oratory skills from his parents, who instilled in him the teachings and wisdom of the Good Book.
The "Rev," as many in his congregation called him, studied scripture under the guidance of his father, the former Reverend Adam Clayton Powell Sr. Both father and son served as longtime pastors of the Abyssinian Baptist Church in Harlem, where Powell Jr. made his name - and, if contemporary pundits were to be believed, his ill-gotten gains. Oh, yes, he had the gift, alright, which usually served his intended purpose but, at times, brought him down to earth.
Powell Jr.'s "fiefdom," as journalists labeled it, was Harlem, covering upper Manhattan. On the other side of the island, across the polluted East River, lay the untapped potential of the financially strapped South Bronx - the northernmost outpost, which happened to be the domain of Bronx Borough President and future U.S. Representative Herman Badillo and his Puerto Rican constituency. Badillo had nowhere near Powell's oratorical ability to sway voters in any direction he deemed necessary. However, what Badillo possessed, and that Powell often lacked, was a squeaky clean personal and public record. In addition, Badillo's rapport with his fellow Puerto Ricans, his administrative skill, and the genuine empathy he exuded whenever issues relevant to his district arose gave him the edge in getting the job done.
Despite their contrasting styles and vastly different working methods, both representatives worked mightily to present a somewhat united front. Historically, both the South Bronx and Harlem districts had suffered greatly from decades of corruption and mismanagement, periodically struggling under various administrations, including those of former New York City mayors Robert F. Wagner, John V. Lindsay, and Abraham D. Beame - "Dishonest Abe" as some locals called him.
"The city is bankrupt!" declared a weary Mayor Beame on October 17, 1975, during the second year of his four-year term. Like many long-serving politicians, each administration's leader took charge by vowing to cut budgets, fight crime, and root out graft, waste, and corruption - not to mention welfare cheats. The unthinkable prospect of bankruptcy - not an ideal solution, but rather a permanent stain on the city's crumbling reputation - became an inescapable conundrum. No wonder the city never slept! New York's finances had become a muddled mess: too big to fail and too big to ignore.
New York City Mayor Abe Beame holding headline from the 1970s The Daily News
Papi took the news of the financial ups and downs in stride, much like the majority of his fellow New Yorkers. His views didn't stray far from those of the media, whether they were reporting on the latest run of bad luck or the aftermath of it.
"Bankrupt! Hah! It's the politicians who are bankrupt! They've got no morals, no scruples! Nothing! Miserable cheats and bastards, that's what they are! They take from us working stiffs, but they don't give anything back!"
Nothing in life is linear. It's not a straight line but a maze of curves and side streets. Like the city itself, it comes pre-loaded with barriers, big and small, most of which must be faced and conquered, if not completely vanquished. It's a vast, ever-changing, ever-evolving path that most people find themselves on - filled with patches of pain and struggle, punctuated by rare moments of calm, and lined with the satisfaction of having accomplished something in the end.
"Take pride in what you do," Papi told his two sons in one of those rare instances of philosophical reflection. "Soon, what you've done will be forgotten, lost to the world. So, to keep yourself from being forgotten," Papi continued, "document what you do - your life, your thoughts, your words, your struggles. Whatever it is, leave something behind for your descendants. For those who come after you, and for those who came before. Honor your ancestors, and you will be honored in turn."
"Wow!" Sonny said. "You're a real philosopher! Maybe you should run for mayor, Papi!"
"You crazy? Me, mayor? ¡Olvidate! "
"Why not? You couldn't do any worse than what we've got now. Or what we may get later."
"You've been smoking too many bananas!"
So much for waxing philosophical.
(To be continued...)
Copyright © 2024 by Josmar F. Lopes
