A View of a Better America: Jonathan Daniels and the Voting Rights Act
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Last week I focused on the undermining of the Voting Rights Act and the cynical attack on our democracy. This week, I'm focusing on the courage and sacrifice of those who fought for civil rights, who reminded us of what we aspire to be, and on the power of democratic education.
Who We Can Be On October 8, 2008, I decided to take my son out of school, Jonathan Daniels Elementary, to listen to Michele Obama campaign for her husband. By good fortune, my son and Michele met for a few moments.
The Obamas had again faced racism that week, but their determination and belief in our democracy keep them going. I think my son gave her a little more hope and joy too that morning. As you listen to the clip below, you’ll hear and see how my son, because of his education, modeled the world we can aspire to: democracy filled with dignity, respect, joy, fun, and positive energy!
Why did he know so much about Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and the Civil Rights movement - which allowed him to appreciate the moment he was witnessing? Because his education was focused on facing difficult history with courage and responsibility so that we can build a better future, together.
Jonathan Daniels Elementary Education, like democracy, should be aspirational and inspirational. JD was our neighborhood school named for Keene’s civil rights martyr. Jon was murdered in 1965 while working with black families and leaders fighting for the dignity of the right to vote. His memory, example, and sacrifice still guides the consciences of the people in this little corner of the world. It also makes last week's Supreme Court ruling an insult to dignity and much more.
Who was Jonathan M. Daniels? Growing up in Keene, NH, Jon had misadventures (often remembered with a smile in city folklore) but he was a person who would stand up for anyone he felt wasn’t being treated fairly. He attended the Virginia Military Institute, became valedictorian, and then pursued a religious calling entering seminary in Cambridge, Massachusetts.
It was from here, in March 1965 (I was almost two years old) that he watched the footage from Bloody Sunday at the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Alabama that I mentioned in my previous post. He saw what happened to John Lewis and others. He heard and responded to Dr. King’s call for the clergy to come to Alabama and join the fight for voting rights. Former colleague Larry Benaquist’s excellent film, Here Am I, Send Me: The Journey of Jonathan Daniels details Jon's choices.
https://www.pbs.org/video/here-am-i-send-me-the-journey-of-jonathan-daniels-wsaqmg/
Jon went to Selma for the weekend and stayed for five months. Living with the Wets, a Black family, he worked to integrate the Episcopal Church, became a tutor, helped families apply for federal aid, and worked to help people in “Bloody Lowndes” County. No Black citizens had been allowed to vote here in the 20th century and the KKK had recently murdered Viola Liouzzo, a civil rights worker from Detroit. After her killing, cars in Lowndes County had bumper stickers reading, "Open Season".
August 20, 1965 Jon and three other civil rights activists had been jailed for six days in Hayneville, Alabama in a small, stifling cell in hundred-degree weather as the sewage backed up onto the floor. Jon and his friends were released without explanation that day. Tired, hot, and thirsty, they went to buy soda at Varner's Cash Store, a place they’d been to before and the only store in town that would service black Americans.
Tom Coleman, a part-time deputy sheriff and white supremacist, stood in the doorway with his shotgun and threatened that, “…if you don't get off this goddamn property, I'm going to blow your damn brains out." He pointed his gun at 17-year-old Ruby Sales, a black friend of Jon’s who was active in the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee. Seconds later, Jon (who was 26) realizing what was about to happen, started pulling Ruby down just as he took the full blast from Coleman’s gun, dying instantly.
Coleman turned towards Catholic priest Richard Morrisroe who had grabbed 19-year old Joyce Bailey and was trying to shield her as they fled. Morrisroe was shot in the back. John Lewis and Stokely Carmichael had introduced Morrisroe to Jon and they'd become friends. Coleman stood over Morrisroe so that no one would dare help him. It was Jonathan Daniels’ mother’s birthday.
Not Guilty Coleman stood trial for manslaughter and the all-White jury found him not guilty after less than ninety minutes. He died in 1997, a free man.
Survivors It took seven months for Ruby Sales to talk again after being covered with Jon’s blood. Despite threats to her and her family, she spoke at Coleman’s trial. She would later say, "I saw the best and the worst of White men in the same moment."
Ruby Sales (above) Ruby became one of the most important voices of the Civil Rights Movement. She earned numerous higher education degrees and then, notably, became a theologian after attending the Episcopal Divinity School in Cambridge, Massachusetts - the same seminary Jonathan Daniels had attended. She graduated in 1998 with a Master of Divinity. Her SpiritHouse Project in Atlanta fights racial and social injustice. Her 2019 TED Talk, "How We Can Start to Heal the Pain of Racial Division," has been viewed nearly two million times. She seeks to help people who've lost their sense of meaning or self by simply asking, "how are you?"
Richard Morrisroe (above) After six months recovery from the shotgun blast in a Montgomery hospital, Fr. Morrisroe continued his duties while speaking about what had happened. He was honorably discharged from the priesthood, he married, and had two children and four grandchildren. He became a lawyer and city planner for the city of East Chicago, Ill. He named his son Jonathan.
Joyce Bailey's (above) testimony can be heard: https://nmaahc.si.edu/object/nmaahc_2016.129.3.1a-.2a
Jonathan Daniels (above) The Episcopal Church designated Jonathan Daniels a martyr in 1991. His name and image is carved at the Washington National Cathedral, alongside Mother Teresa and Rosa Parks. At the Virginia Military Institute, a memorial arch and courtyard honor his memory; the Jonathan Daniels Humanitarian Award has been given to President Jimmy Carter and Congressman John Lewis.
My Turn I'm angry because we're witnessing an assault on democracy that insults and undermines us. Racism, power, and arrogance (or worse) intentionally ignores and denigrates the sacrifices of so many Americans who seek to build a better world. Make no mistake, old dark hatreds are being led to the front by those trying to drag us to the bottom. I was angered to learn this week that a good friend and tireless former colleague had been fired. After years of changing many lives and shaping public discussion she lost her job because she was the college’s DEI leader. I continue to admire her and reject the cowardice that dismissed her. She continues her work.
If we're to learn from the people mentioned here we can't betray them by allowing anger and despair to consume us. I've got to channel my anger into confident caring. In this battle our weapons are those of the human spirit and our commitment to democratic values and aspirations. We have courage that's informed by our decency. We fight tyranny so that others find security, justice, safety, and dignity. We do have other paths forward.
In the days following Jon's funeral our local paper The Keene Sentinel editorialized that "to men like Jonathan Daniels, all men are brothers, and skin color means nothing ... In dying, not only was Jonathan Daniels minding his own business, but he was also attending to His business.”
The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King remembered Jon's sacrifice as “One of the most heroic Christian deeds of which I have heard in my entire ministry and career...” "...our grief should give way to a sense of Christian honor and nobility.”
I hope I honor Jon, Ruby, Richard, Joyce and so many others who point us towards a better, more just world.
On a family trip to England, we visited Canterbury Cathedral to discover that, thousands of miles from home, Jon was being honored in the sanctuary. My nephew and son stood with an image of our hometown hero whose sacrifice is remembered as inspirational and aspirational. His example points the way forward. I feel the responsibility to continue his work and honor his legacy.
I used to organize our city's annual Kristallnacht Remembrance for my previous institution (with my friend and colleague Vicky Pittman) at the Main Street Colonial Theatre. The Remembrance was designed to challenge attendees and participants to take care of each other, protect the vulnerable, and resist the forces of fascism. We always had large crowds. One year I reached out to Canterbury Cathedral to see if they might be interested in our program. The following clip was sent by Rev. Canon Dr. Timothy Naish. I'm still moved by what he did and honored to share it with you now.
May Jon's memory be for a blessing and a guide for good people to gain strength and hope. What happens next is up to us.
