Tucked away in obscure corners
of our cerebral, is that thing-to-do-list we all have. On that list are things like, taking a
cruise, starting a family-tree, riding a horse or running a 10k race. Sadly, many of us… for whatever reason don’t
visit that corner very often.
One item on my “list” is to
tell the real story behind the 1971 death of Robert Lee (Bobby) Wade, Jr. Writing about this tragedy has been on the
back-burner for some time, but two events transpired which made me visit my
corner and move it to the forefront; the
Trayvon Martin murder and a self-published book written by former Wheeling, West Virginia police Chief Arthur
McKenzie. The media coverage of
Trayvon started me thinking more and more about Bobby’s death and the justice
he and his family never received.
Reading how indifferent the Sanford, Florida police department and
prosecutors’ office treated the death of this young black teenager I said then,
“what’s new?!" They displayed the
same attitude in Bobby’s death. The difference being the Wheeling police killed
Bobby Wade.
The impetus to put
pen-to-paper was when I read the chief’s tell-all-memoir, All Facts, No Fiction: Excerpts
from over 50 Years of Public Service. One recollection he writes about is the mass
arrest of 17 black youths. He holds the incident up as one of his crowning
police actions during his stint as Chief of Police. Of course, he omits the constitutional
violations and physical abuse he and his officers carried out during those
unwarranted arrests. It was this abuse that precipitated Bobby’s demise.
His account of what took place
on Chapline Street that New Year’s weekend some forty-six years ago is
self-serving, factually erroneous and laden with unadulterated lies. The memoir should have been titled: Some facts, a lot of fiction. The only good thing I took away from this
work is the answer to a long sought question…. Why was the Civil Disturbance Unit (CDU) called out for such run of the
mill incidents in 1971? I found that
answer below; second sentence of the last paragraph on page 52 from his book….
All Facts, No Fiction: Excerpts from over 50 Years of
Public Service
Everyone clamors for change, but when
change come the clamoring stops and the complaining begins. Change in the
Wheeling PO was no different, but we forged ahead.
In early 1970 I created a Civil
Disturbance Unit (CDU) made up of twenty-five young volunteer officers. We
trained these men in crowd control, crowd disbursement, the isolation of
leaders in a riot, weapons use, etc., and the u it was provided with the best
equipment then available. We had the full cooperation often Prosecutor's
Office, Judges, the Department of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms, and two
college Professors. This proved to be a real morale booster.
One incident involving the CDU occurred
on January, 1971 when three groups of young black men decided they would create
some havoc by trying to set fire to the West Liberty College Downtown Center
located at 15th and Jacob Streets, set fire to the Sears store located at 10th
and Chapline Streets, and stop traffic on upper Chapline Street by throwing
bricks at passing vehicles.
When we got the call at headquarters I
immediately called out the CDU, dispatching half of the team to the top of
Chapline Street and the other ha f with me to 10th Street. That deployment had
the bulk of the participants between us. I took a bullhorn and advised everyone
to disburse peacefully, or be arrested. The group started throwing rocks and
beer bottles at us and shouting profanities, so we began moving in from both
directions, all the while advising the people to break up and go home. When we
reached the center of the group, it had decreased in size as some had taken our
advice and gone home. But the instigator, a loud mouth trouble maker named
Farmer Lee, who came from a family of eighteen, was not to be denied. With the
first name of "Farmer," I could understand why he was probably always
upset. Farmer jumped in my face screaming and shaking his fist. To calm him
down, Officer Ed McGannon, a no-nonsense officer, stepped up and with his
nightstick, knocked him cold. We arrested Farmer and sixteen others and put
them all in jail.
The next day in court, they all received
fines, and some were released to the custody of their parents. 1This one incident and others
proved to the city administration and some of the carping citizens the worth of
the unit. This unit continued for some time after my departure
from the force until some know-nothing disbanded the unit. The unit was again
reorganized some years later and heralded as the new chief idea.
52
1emphasis are mine
When I read that sentence it
finally dawned on me…. Chief McKenzie was being pressured to justify the
establishment and cost of the CDU, so he elevated minor incidences to make them
appear as major and out of control.
The following excerpts from
newspaper reports and the Human Rights Commission hearing testimony are
examples of just how low the bar was set to justify the degree of an incident
that called for such a heavy-handed response.
Chief McKenzie’s Newspaper
interview
Monday, January 4, 1971 The Intelligencer
“….Chief McKenzie said Sunday morning
that the incident followed an altercation between a ‘handfuls of youths’ near
the YWCA on Chapline Street, at 10:30 pm.
At 12:30am Lt. Donald Keyser alerted all patrolmen that two white men
had their cars ‘rocked’ at Lane 7 and Chapline Street. Patrolmen were then sent to the area, armed
with shotguns after an unconfirmed report that white men may be headed ‘for the
hill area’ again”
Human Right Commission hearing police Chief
Arthur McKenzie
February 3, 1971 Wheeling News Register
“…two white men came to police
headquarters and said Negro youths at Tenth and Chapline Streets had thrown
rocks and broken their car windows, McKenzie said. The two men were asked to fill out a report
but one said “to hell with it. We’ll take care of it ourselves.” The chief
said.
“….got a report that several youths on
Chapline Street had roll tires down the hill and there was garbage piled on the
street.
Human Right Commission testimony of Raymond A
Harvey, president We Exist
February 2, 1971 Wheeling News Register
“… that weekend incident was called a racial
conflict by the newspapers. Only one race was involved he said, adding that the
only whites he saw there were policemen.”
“…….he said he asked Chief McKenzie and
City Manager Charles Steele why the police were up there in such numbers and he
quoted McKenzie as saying there were rocks and bottles thrown and Christmas
trees thrown into the street.”
“….the police had the attitude “we’ve got
all this new equipment and we are prepared to use it.”
These are incidences that were
so “out of control” that the police had to come out in full riot gear. Those of us arrested and community leaders
weren’t the only ones questioning the police’s overreaction. Several weeks before the Human Rights
Commission hearing, the Executive Director spoke of his apprehensions for the
rationale to deploy such forces. By
doing so he raised the ire of the City Manager.
Human Right Commission testimony of Wheeling City
Manager, Charles Steele
Wheeling News Register February 3, 1971
“….Steele lashed out at Commission
Executive Director Carl Glatt for making statements some weeks ago to a
Wheeling civic club warning of a ‘chaotic situation which did in fact not
exist’.”
So, it’s with this backdrop, I
begin Bobby’s story.
Tickets in hand, the three of
us sat in the waiting room of the Greyhound Bus station talking excitingly about our futures… looking
forward to seeing the big city and experiencing different cultures. It was December 18, 1967 and we were ready to
see the world. It was hard to believe
this day had finally arrived. Neither
I, Bobby Wade nor William (Will) Taylor had travelled this far before from our
hometown of Wheeling, West Virginia.
The first leg of our journey
would take us to the Seafarer’s International Union in Brooklyn, New York. From there we would travel to The Seafarers
School of Seamanship in Piney Point, Maryland, and upon completion of our
Merchant Marine training, off to see the world.
A few days prior our home town Sunday newspaper did a full page story on
us. The headline read; From the Mountains
to the Seas. We were just three of
the 75 young men from around the country on our way to becoming U.S. Merchant
Mariner’s. Forty-five days later the three of us finished training with the
designation of Ordinary Seamen. Our
first destinations took me to the Far East, Will to the Netherlands, and Bobby
shipped to the Orient. Though we all
came home periodically, it seemed never to be at the same time. It would be
years before I’d see either one of them again.
It’s January 2, 1971 four years
later. Excitement was in the air this
day. Michael and Pete Turner were celebrating their twenty-first birthday with
a party that evening, and those in our clique were looking forward to it. I had not sailed for over a year. What kept
me on land so-to-speak was my community activist work and position with the
Legal Aid Program of Northern W V. Both
of which were insightful, challenging and fulfilling. These experiences coupled with my travels;
gave me hope in the possibility for change in the community. So much so, that
in the summer of 1970 several of us joined the Black Nationalist Party and
establishment the Afro-Set in Wheeling.
Our presences created a mindset that changed the way we viewed ourselves
and our community.
Will Taylor was still at sea.
He had not been home for a couple of years.
Bobby though had been home on shore leave for a few months. His plans
were to spend time with the family, and make sure his mom was okay before
leaving again at the end of February.
Born September 20, 1951, he
was the second son and second oldest child in a family of nine…. three brothers
and five sisters whom he helps support.
Though Bobby was a small man in stature ( standing about 5 feet 5
inches), growing up in the Lincoln Homes Housing Project, his peers discovered
early on that his size was not indicative of his courage. He would not hesitate to step to you win or
lose. He cared deeply for his family,
had a big heart and took pride in the fact that he was able to contribute to
his family’s welfare. His easy demeanor
drew you to him. He was a fun person to be around. One couldn’t help but like him… the ladies
certainly did.
What made this January
different than last years was the lack of snow. It was over cast, dreary and
freezing, thanks to the frigid air coming off the Ohio River. The winds whipped
around, and in between houses, sometimes making howling sounds as it traverse
its way through the alleys. Trails of
condense breath laid in the wake of those braving the cold as they scurried for
their destination and hopefully warmth.
The weather was also an indication that the Turner’s house was going to
be wall to wall tonight. During this
time they lived on Chapline Street, about five doors up from the American
Legion Post 89, and across the street from the Pythian Building which housed
the Palm Garden… my uncle Ben Hagood’s
lounge and pool hall.
It was eight o’clock as I
headed for the party. I had just left the pool hall after spending several
hours playing pool with Bobby. He was to
catch up with me later. The
Temptation’s song; ‘Ball of Confusion’, filled the stairwell as several of us
made our way to the second floor apartment. From the sounds you knew people
were having a good time. As we entered voices in unison yelled, “…close the
door, you’re letting the hawk in!” It
was just too cold to be outside for any length of time, which is why people
hopped between the party, the Legion and the Palm Garden.
A couple of hours into the party word begin to circulate
that the police were gathering north on Chapline Street, up by the steps going
to Lincoln School… south at the intersection of Eleventh and Chapline streets
by the YWCA… west on Lane D, which runs behind the Pythian Building, and east
on Morrows Alley. Curious, some of us went
to widows, others, myself included; left the party to see what was
happening. People were also exiting the
Legion and Palm Garden to see this unusual police display. As reported, police dressed in full riot gear
had gathered at both end of the block. They had formed horizontal lines across
the street, standing shoulder to shoulder with night sticks and shotguns at the
ready. A bullhorn could be heard from the intersection though what was being
said was inaudible. When the police started moving in from the north and south,
it was obvious that the noise from the bullhorn was to move in. At this point, I crossed the street to the
Pythian Building and descended the stairs pass the Palm Garden to the pool
hall. Bobby was still there so I crossed
the room to where he stood. The police
activities outside was also the topic of conversation there. Why the police build up? What’s their
motive? Some were saying it was because
of a fight that had taken place out front earlier. Others argued it was the
bottles and rocks that had been thrown at cars that evening. Some believed it must be something altogether
different, because neither would bring the police out in riot gear. Having no
idea ourselves we listened to the debate for a while then the two of us headed
upstairs.
When we stepped out onto the
sidewalk police officers stuck shotguns in our faces. About this time, Police
Chief Arthur McKenzie, with bullhorn under arm, was standing in front of us. I
said, “How are you doing Art?” He said; “Okay, Farmer.” I said; “What’s all the
guns for, you going to shoot somebody?” He said; “No I’m just going to start
making arrests.” He then pointed to me and said; “put cuffs on this man”, and
started pointing out different individuals, as well as Bobby.
An officer put me in a
choke-hold with his night stick, while another did the handcuffing. I was taken
to the ground and kicked in the groin by Officer Clark Gable. At the same time Officers Donald Coyne threw
Bobby facedown, put cuffs on him, lifted him up by those cuffs and dragged him
15 yards to the cruiser.
From the backseat of the
cruiser the scene was chaotic. The police were yelling for people to clear the
street, but at the same time arresting those attempting to follow their
commands, and those they deemed not moving fast enough. They even began
stopping cars and pulling people out of them.
Some would break away and run, with officers in hot pursuit. Others
stood their ground and demanded an explanation, but police felt no obligation
to explain anything to anyone. From the
way the police scanned through the crowd and arrested only certain individuals
told me they had a list. Obviously, Bobby and I were on that list.
When we arrived at the city
lockup there were already half a dozen people in the holding cage. I was
searched, then uncuffed and locked in the cage.
When Bobby was brought in he had a grimacing look on his face. A
noticeable limp, and his blood stained pants at the knees, denoted the injuries
from being dragged. Officer Donald Coyne, a red headed man and known in the
community as hostile toward people of color, began searching him. When he got
to Bobby’s knees he purposely patted them more forcefully. Bobby cussed under his breath, spun around
and with his head and shoulder rammed the officer and drove him into the
wall. The room erupted in shouts and
cheers. Officer Coyne turned red with anger, took out his police revolver, and
with the butt of it, proceeded to beat Bobby viciously about the head while he
was still cuffed from behind. Our shouting and threats prompted the other
officers to step in and stop Officer Coyne’s assault. Bobby was uncuffed and thrown into the cage
with the rest us. Our cries to get him medical help were ignored. He suffered
throughout the night with a swollen and bloody head.
None of us had a clue as to why
we were arrested. The bottles and rock
that had been thrown at cars earlier in the evening had nothing to do with
those of us they had in custody. We
were all either at the birthday party, the American Legion, the Palm Garden or
home until leaving for the party. One
person in uniform was home on leave from the Air Force and he too was
arrested. Was he out there throwing
objects at cars in his uniform? The following morning the city newspaper listed
the names of the arrested, reporting we were charged with disorderly conduct
and resisting arrest. To justify the beating of Bobby he was also charged with
assaulting a police officer.
George E Lee, 20 of 174 12th St Wheeling,
Oscar Brown, 19 of Vineyard Hills,
James Hudson, 21 of St. Clairsville, OH,
James Cruse, 18 of Vineyard Hills,
Robert Wade, 19 of Lincoln Homes,
Robert H. Anderson, 22 of Bellaire, OH,
Edward C. Reed 18, 759 Vineyard Hills,
Lee E. Pearson 23, of 1919 Chapline St,
Allen Jay Manns 23, U.S. Air Force,
Gerald L. Saunders 24, of Vineyard Hills,
Pamela Paige 18, of 181 Seventeenth St Wheeling.
Five teenagers:
A 17 year old juvenile of Mrs. Norma Jean Sinclair of
Jacob St;
17 year old son of Robert and Jean Paige of 181
Seventeenth St,
A 16 year old boy of Marie Terry, Vineyard Hills;
another 17 year old boy living with his aunt and uncle Doldrige and Dorothy
Harrison, and a 17 year boy of Clara Walden.
The community was outraged and
demanded our release and a full investigation. On Monday, January 4, 1971 all
were released from custody on bail or on their own recognizance. Bobby’s family
took him to receive medical treatment that day. He was diagnosed with a
concussion and fracture skull. Over the next
5 days he struggled to deal with unbearable head pain. The prescribed medicine
did very little to bring relief. His mother spoke of finding him in fetal
positions at times with his head buried in pillows. The severity of the pain
was such that beads of sweat would run down his face. A dark room would help at times, but every
day he was a man preoccupied with finding moments of tranquility from the
constant headaches.
Pain or no pain it would not
stand in the way of his seeking to bring those responsible for his injuries to
justice. Bobby, like us all, felt the police showed a degree of disrespect like
never before by invading our community, and that we could not let stand. The racial slurs and physical abuse at the
hands of law enforcement displayed an arrogant assurance that they could do so
with impunity. And understandably, he was angry about what happened to him
personally. At a Tuesday, January 5 news
conference he recited his illegal arrest, his beating at the hands of Officer
Donald Coyne while handcuffed, and the injuries he sustained. The media was not
interested in his plight. Reporting of
the incident was slanted. The city newspapers were complicit in pushing the
racial disturbance lie and trying to tie the January 5 fire-bombing of the
A&P and other venues to those of us arrested that night.
On Friday, January 8, 1971 six
days after he was viciously beaten his struggle to stop the pain ended in his
mother’s living room. It was early
evening. Home at the time with Bobby was
his mother Mrs. Geraldine, his 10 year old sister Lolita and his friend Marvin
“Jug Head” Paige. Mrs. Geraldine and
Lolita were in the kitchen. Worried over
her son’s lack of appetite, she got up that day determined to make his favorite
fried chicken. She knew this would get him to the table. Jug Head was sitting in the living room
where he also had a clear view into the kitchen. Bobby, forever restless, was pacing up and
down the hall leading to the bedrooms.
He finally sat on the couch. Cradling his head in his hands, and
immediately begins rocking back and forth in an attempt to ease the pain. From between the cushion and couch he
produced a .32 caliber handgun and pointed it to his head. He looked at Jug Head,
removed the gun from his head and put it in his waist band. Before Jug Head
could question him, he took it out once again and begins to raise it. Jug Head sensed that Bobby was resolute. Not
knowing what to do, he hollered out…“Mrs. Geraldine, Bobby got a gun…!”
W
|
hen I heard about it I rushed
to be at his mother’s side. My heart went
out to Mrs. Geraldine and the family. This should have never happened. Bobby
was an innocent by stander. No one should have gone to jail that evening… and
Bobby certainly did not deserve to be brutalized by the police.
The coroner ruled the shooting
was “accidental”. The autopsy showed that Bobby was hemorrhaging from the
brain, brought on by use of a blunt force object. With his mothers’ permission, the Afro-Set
conducted the funeral ceremony and members served as pallbearers. We laid his body to rest at the Greenwood
Cemetery in his birth place of Bellaire, Ohio.
The West Virginia Human rights
Commission announced on January 29, 1971 that it would conduct public hearings.
Inquires covered four areas:
·
Unemployment or
underemployment of black youth in the
Wheeling area;
·
Alleged lack of
recreational facilities;
·
Alleged
substandard and inadequate housing;
·
Alleged police
abuses
·
Alleged inadequacy
of area-wide community relations programs.
The Commission did what it was
created to do…provide cover. This is evident from the following conclusions;
Russell Van Cleve, Chairman April 8, 1971
Report to the West Virginia Human Rights
Commission of the Public hearing in Wheeling On February 1, 2, 3, 1971 Relative
to the Racial Tension Situation in Wheeling on the Weekend of January 2, 1971
“…There were many contradictions as to the facts of
each incident which occurred the weekend of January 2, 1971. The black
spokesmen were united in accusations that the police "over-reacted to by
turning out 'n force, armed with an excess of riot equipment to quell minor
disturbances in the black community which could have been resolved more
peaceably by more diplomatic and less threatening police action. The police, on
the other hand, explained the escalating tensions of that weekend resulted from
acts of violence, disregard and disrespect for routine police instructions,
followed by profanity, bottle-throwing, and aggressive acts aimed at the police
which could only be handled by increased strength and more direct police action.”
“…. The Hearing Commissioners have
concluded that much of the testimony dealt with criminal matters which would
require a great deal of follow-up investigation outside the official
responsibility and capability of the West Virginia Human rights Commission. This applies not only to the allegations
related to the fire bombings but the entire accusations and defensiveness
related to the violence and vandalism that occurred during the racial
disturbance on the weekend of January 2, 1971. It was felt no constructive
purpose would be served by delving into such particular facts when the hearing
itself revealed large problems area for which the community might take a
constructive action on a united front.”
Our trials began in city court
on January 21, 1971. The first five
defendants scheduled to appear where myself,
James (Jimmy Jake) Cruse, Robert H. Anderson, Edward C. (JR) Reed, and Robert
(Bobby) Wade Jr. The City Solicitor
attempted to have Bobby’s name removed from the trial because he was deceased. Our attorney, H. John Rogers argued that his
family had the right to clear his name….that Bobby still deserved his day in
court and should remain as the fifth defendant.
The judge agreed, and after a tumultuous trial, and to no one’s
surprise, we were all found guilty and levied fines. Not wanting a repeat of
our trial, the other 12 defendant’s charges were dropped. Our convictions were appealed and eventually
overturned. The only avenue left to
hold the police accountable would be via civil law suit. The attorney representing the family promised
to pursue their grievances but nothing ever came to fruition.
I came to terms a long time ago
that Officer Donald Coyne may never answer for what he did to Robert ‘Bobby’
Wade. I know that Arthur McKenzie will never admit that he had alternative
motives for activating the Civil Disturbance Unit nor will he answer for his
role in setting the stage that caused Bobby to be arrested. But I take comfort in having given Bobby a
voice again. No longer is there one side
to the story. And his family can also
take comfort in knowing that a light now shines on those responsible.
George (Farmer) Lee
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