Accidental Activist

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Accidental Activist - book excerpt

PLAN, WHAT PLAN?

I wrote this book to show you how to get stuff done, important stuff that makes the world a better place. This is my primer for positive action and while I'm not sure how this happened, all of my advice starts with a "P". Sorry about that. I promise not to subject you to any more alliteration than absolutely necessary.

This book will take you through my quest for justice for The Groveland Four and teach you how to pursue your own endeavors, whatever they may be.

Before you jump in, what do you need to know? Well, here are a few things:

--Everything takes more time than you think.

--Nothing ever goes according to plan.

--Help can come from unexpected places.

--Time is on your side.

--Everyone is connected to everyone else (Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon).

--You can reach your tipping point for success and not even realize it.

--Your goals can change along the way.

--Flexibility is key.

If none of that resonates with you, don't worry, it will make sense later. Let's get started, shall we?

FAMOUS PEOPLE AT A PARTY

I was by far the youngest personat the party and the one with the shortest bio. It was as if I'd wandered into a parallel universe, one where important people asked my opinion on things of gravity. I was Owen Wilson in Midnight in Paris when he meets F. Scott Fitzgerald and Hemingway--in a word, awestruck. But there I was, hobnobbing with famous authors as if I belonged.

I was a recent arrival to New York City, a college graduate starting his first job at a niche advertising agency. My life up to that point had been on a different plane entirely—happy hour after work with friends, same day theatre tickets, a pick-up basketball game, waiting for the F train, home decor from Target, and a slice of pizza from any establishment claiming to be Original Ray’s, never eaten with a fork and knife because I didn’t want to be laughed out of town.

Yet, on that particular day I was ten blocks from home and a world away, looking down at the glittering jewel-box of Manhattan from the forty-second floor of a beautiful apartment. I was petting a friendly dog named Louis and watching famous people play a game of Euchre while I soaked up the ambiance. I should have felt awkward but I didn't. I had brought a six-pack of Coney Island beer because I wanted to bring a good IPA but the host had it all covered with amazing barbecue and an excellent selection of wine and beer. At least I didn't come empty-handed.

Surrounded by Pulitzer-Prize winning authors and literary agents, I had no idea what to talk about. Our esteemed host, Gilbert King, had introduced me to the other guests like I was a VIP. Adam Johnson, author of The Orphan Master's Son, loomed as a larger-than-life figure and I watched him from a distance. Before I knew it, he and Gilbert had pulled me into the game and were trying to teach me how to play. I never quite caught on but I'll never forget how I felt that night, mingling with famous authors, on a first name basis with politicians and reporters, admiring the city from on high. And it all started with a book.

PASSION PROJECT

“Chase down your passion like it’s the last bus of the night.” Terri Guillemets

The most important question to ask yourself is: Why do I want to take on this project? Noblesse oblige? A desire to help the less fortunate? Both are good reasons, but not good enough. A cause may be worth fighting for but if it's not causing you pain to think about it, if it's not burrowing under your skin to take up residence in your heart and mind, it's not for you. You can't look for a cause, it has to find you.

My project found me in early 2015, my junior year at the University of Florida. I was driving back to Gainesville from Orlando after a weekend trip when I saw a sign

on the highway. It wasn't a sign from God but an actual sign with one word on it: "Groveland". Six months earlier that sign would have meant nothing to me but, in that moment, it opened my eyes to the past, to a tragedy that still echoed through the years. Seeing that sign made Groveland become a tangible place, a place where terrible things had happened. In 1949, where a white woman had falsely accused four young black men of rape and sparked a powder keg of racial upheaval, torture, murder, and hatred in a small town.

I'd recently read a book about it for my American History class: Devil in the Grove: Thurgood Marshall, the Groveland Boys, and the Dawn of the New America. The author, Gilbert King, had won a Pulitzer Prize for his work. I hadn't really thought about the book much besides the fact that it was a good read, it was just another assignment. Now I couldn't stop thinking about it. The fact that these guys were my age meant it could have been me. They were so young and they all had alibis, but it didn't matter. The fact that I had no idea this happened until I read the book and that it was so close to home, in places I recognized, made me realize this was real. It wasn't just a story anymore. Nothing was right about this case and I wanted--I needed--to do something to help.

As a twenty-one year old college student with no connections and no experience, I wondered what I could do about this injustice from more than sixty years ago. I was a telecommunications major with an interest in film-making so my first impulse was to create a documentary, but then I learned one had already been made. What did people do when they wanted change? They started a petition, of course. I'd signed a few petitions since turning eighteen but had never started one of my own. Honestly, I'd never done anything in the social justice arena before. Since fortune favors the bold I decided to contact the author, Gilbert King. To my surprise he responded to my email. He was kind and gracious and quite humble for someone with a Pulitzer Prize on the shelf. If it were me, I'd be working that beauty into every conversation. Take out the garbage? Sorry, no can do. I'm busy polishing my Pulitzer right now.

Gilbert appreciated my desire to help but told me a petition had been attempted before. I decided to go for it anyway. I couldn't give up before I started, right? Besides, if it were easy, the problem would have been solved a long time ago. I had to try. But there was someone I needed to find first, the woman who swore she would never stop until her father's name was cleared. I needed to find Carol Greenlee.

POSTING A PETITION

"It takes but one person, one moment, one conviction, to start a ripple of change." Donna Brazile

In the old days, a person could wear out a closet full of shoes collecting signatures on petitions. Now, thanks to change.org, you can share your petition with the world without ever leaving your chair. The downside is that you're competing with millions of other petitions all asking for just a minute of your time. Change.org is like a beauty pageant for the worthiest cause. It's hard to pick a winner when every contestant is praying for world peace.

Although it's free to post a petition, which is wonderful and egalitarian, if you want more eyeballs on it, you can pay for that. For a small fee, you can promote a petition (yours or someone else's) to ensure that it appears on other pages with similar causes. I learned this during my scouting expedition of their website. I was relieved at how user- friendly it was but intimidated by the sheer volume of competition. According to Wikipedia, change.org was posting five hundred new petitions a day in 2012. I could only imagine how many more were being posted in March of 2015 when I was getting started.

Before I could post anything I had a mystery to solve, a missing person case. She wasn't lost, she just didn't know I was looking for her. Carol Greenlee, aka Carol Crawley, was the driving force behind the exoneration effort. All four men had since passed on but their families were determined to clear their names, and nobody was more determined than Carol. Her father, Charles Greenlee, had been the youngest of the four and the only man not from Groveland. At age sixteen he had traveled to Groveland because his friend Ernest Thomas promised he would find work in the groves. Charles's fifteen-year-old girlfriend was pregnant and he wanted to provide for his baby (Carol), but he would never make it to the groves. While waiting for Ernest, Charles was arrested for loitering and hauled off. He would soon be accused of a heinous crime he couldn't possibly have committed, followed by beatings, torture, coerced confessions, a mockery of a trial, and a life sentence. He and Ernest would never meet again. When Ernest was also accused he fled town only to be shot dead as he slept under a tree, killed by a "posse" of a thousand Klansmen led by Sheriff Willis McCall, the "devil in the grove".

I learned about Carol through local news stories about the case. I also learned that other Groveland family members had sought the assistance of Geraldine Thompson, as tate senator whose district included Groveland. At their request, Senator Thompson had submitted a bill to posthumously exonerate and apologize to the four men, specifically, to clear the names of Charles Greenlee, Walter Irvin, Samuel Shepherd and Ernest Thomas because of “egregious wrongs” perpetrated against them by the criminal justice system. The resolution also sought pardons for Irvin and Greenlee, the two men who survived to complete their prison sentences.

Senator Thompson explained why she thought this case was important: "The case of the Groveland Four is symbolic of the cases of many African Americans who did not receive fair treatment and equal justice in our Country. I feel that governmental officials should take responsibility for the actions of their agents and step forward to correct wrongs when they are identified. Many times an apology for wrongdoing on the part of governmental officials can help to bring about healing and reconciliation in the African American community. I believe action on this proposed legislation can help in efforts to ease racial tensions across America."

Despite her best efforts, which included buying forty copies of Gilbert's book and gifting them to her colleagues, Senator Thompson couldn't find a sponsor in the House and the bill died in committee. She vowed to try again.

That is how things stood when I decided to become involved. My mistake was assuming Carol still lived in Florida, which is why all my internet searches came up empty. I would have asked Gilbert for help but he had told me he wasn't in contact with any of the families. The only information I could glean was that Carol used the last name of Crawley as well as Greenlee. I turned to the best detective I knew, my mom. She was really good at finding people. It took her less than an hour.

"Did you look in Tennessee?" she teased me when she called.

"No," I said. "Why would I?"

"Because that's where her dad moved after he left Florida."

"But he's gone now," I replied.

"Well, she's still there!" my mom laughed. "And she owns a company too. Here's the phone number. Good luck!"

I practiced what I planned to say to Carol. I was nervous but not sure why. Fear of offending her? Fear of rejection? Fear of coming off as a crazy person? All of the above?

When she came on the line, I stammered through my speech, trying to explain who I was, why I wanted to help. She had a kind voice, although she did seem guarded. Who wouldn't be wary of strangers that tracked you down? For all I knew she had as many kooks calling her as I had telemarketers.

“You're a college student,” she said, "Why aren't you just enjoying college life? Why do you want to help me?"

I told her I'd read Gilbert's book and she said she had too. How painful it must have been for her to read the grim details of what happened.

"I'd really like to help you," I said.

She paused. "Okay, why not? We need all the help we can get."

Months later Carol discussed that call in an interview. It was a Sunday and I was sitting at my computer researching different agencies and organizations that assist innocent individuals incarcerated unjustly. I was at a dead end, frustrated, praying for a miracle, wondering if I would ever clear my father’s name.I did not personally ask Senator Geraldine Thompson to sponsor the bill, but I followed it, and after it did not get through the process I felt defeated. When this college student called, I could not believe my ears. Something just clicked with Josh. I had already exhausted every avenue I had and then God sent me Josh out of the blue. I was floored.