Good Trouble: Tearful Thoughts on the Passing of a Moral Giant

Most, if not all students of American political history know the eerie significance of the date July 4, 1826. For on that long ago Tuesday, which happened to be the 50th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence, two of its principle authors passed away within 5 hours of one another: Thomas Jefferson, America’s 3rd President, and his predecessor - and occasional political foe- John Adams. Ironically, the legend has it that the 90-year old Adams’ last words were “Thomas Jefferson still survives.” Adams, of course was wrong; he had no way of knowing that the 83-year old Virginian had succumbed five hours earlier.

Another eerie, though far far less well known coincidence occurred just yesterday, July 17. 2020: the deaths of 80-year old Georgia Representative John Robert Lewis and his 95-year old mentor, the Rev. C(ordell) T(yndell Vivian. With their dual passing - both of which occurred in Atlanta, Georgia - the last of the truly great giants of the American Civil Rights movement have gone to their respective rewards.

Lewis, the far better-known of the two, was, to say the least, a moral giant, and the last of the American Civil Rights Movement’s so-called “Big Six” - Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.; Whitney Young of the National Urban League; A. Phillip Randolph of the Negro American Labor Council; James L. Farmer Jr., of the Congress of Racial Equality; and Roy Wilkins of the NAACP. One of ten children of an impoverished sharecropper, John Lewis endured more than 6 decades of arrests and vicious beatings to become the longtime “moral conscience” of the United States Congress. Indeed, so well respected was this man that few - if any - members of Congress on either side of the aisle would ever say a word against him.

Already, as a 23-year old, John Lewis helped organize Dr. Martin Luther King’s 1963 March on Washington (the enormous gathering at which Dr. King delivered his historic “I Have a Dream” speech). Forgotten by many, Lewis himself actually spoke at the historic event: “In the Delta of Mississippi, in Southwest Georgia, in the Black Belt of Alabama, in Harlem, in Chicago, Detroit, Philadelphia and all over this nation the Black masses are on a march for jobs and freedom.” Turning away from the “black power” rhetoric of Trinidad-born Stokely Carmichael (1941-1998), Lewis remained steadfast to a Ghandi-esque philosophy of non-violence: "Freedom is not a state; it is an act. It is not some enchanted garden perched high on a distant plateau where we can finally sit down and rest. Freedom is the continuous action we all must take, and each generation must do its part to create an even more fair, more just society.”

Lewis lost an election to Congress, won a seat on the Atlanta City Council, and eventually beat the vastly more urbane Julian Bond (1940-2015) for a seat in Congress in 1986. Lewis would serve in Congress until yesterday. Interestingly, Bond garnered far more votes from black voters in that ‘86 race than John Lewis. Although not known for being a legislative powerhouse, John Lewis quickly became known as both the conscience and moral center of the House. He was part prophet, part saint. About the only major American politician who would excoriate him was - not surprisingly - Donald Trump who, just days before his inauguration in 2017 disparaged the Georgia Representative as ““All talk, talk talk - no action or results” and further attacked him for representing a Georgia district Mr. Trump claimed was “crime infested” and “falling apart.” (In point of fact, John Lewis’ district was heavily Jewish and upper-middle class). John Lewis would go on to represent his district with distinction for more than 30 years; he declined to attend the inauguration of either Presidents George W. Bush or Donald Trump because, in his estimation, they had not won the office fairly.

The passing of John Lewis deprives the United States of its foremost warrior in a battle for racial justice that stretches back into the 19th century and the passage of the 14th and 15th Amendments. Americans — and particularly his colleagues in Congress — can best honor his memory by picking up where he left off. In December of last year, John Lewis presided over the House when it voted to restore the Voting Rights Act. The Bill has now been sitting on Senator Mitch McConnell's desk for 225 days. One of the best ways to honor Lewis is for Congress to revive the law he devoted his life to & call it “The John Lewis Voting Rights Act.”

Then too, there is the matter of renaming an historic bridge. In March 1965, the then-25 year old John Lewis (who at the time was chair of the Student Non-Violent Coordinating Committee - SNCC) led a protest march along a 54-mile highway from Selma, Alabama, to the state capital of Montgomery. On March 7, as the group approached the Edmund Pettus Bridge (named after a former Confederate general and Ku Klux Klan leader), Alabama state troopers beat demonstrators who were marching for Black voting rights in what became known forever after as “Bloody Sunday." Among the most severely injured was John Lewis, who sustained a cracked skull after a state trooper beat him to the ground with a nightstick. That attack was captured on film by an enterprising television cameraman, and played on the nightly news. For the rest of his life, John Lewis would return to that bridge every March to commemorate the anniversary of the march, which ultimately led to the passage of the 1965 Civil Rights Act.

Change.org has started an online petition to change the name of that bridge to the “John Lewis Bridge.” It seems to me that it’s the least we can do to memorialize a man who continually challenged people of all races, colors and creeds (whom Lewis always referred to as “the beloved community”) to stand tall and engage in what he called “good trouble.” (This comes from a 2018 Tweet in which he wrote: “Do not get lost in a sea of despair. Be hopeful, be optimistic. Our struggle is not the struggle of a day, a week, a month, or a year. It is the struggle of a lifetime. Never, ever be afraid to make some noise and get in good trouble, necessary trouble.

It seems to me that that the very best and most obvious - way to honor his memory is to get out and vote this coming November; whether via mail, absentee ballot or standing out in line until the deed is done. Keeping Donald Trump in office is the ultimate insult to a man who put his life and on the line every day for more than 6 decades.

To not vote deprives the United States of its foremost warrior in a battle for racial justice that stretches back into the 19th century and the passage of the 14th and 15th Amendments. Americans — and particularly his colleagues in Congress — can best honor his memory by picking up where he left off. King David wrote in Psalm 90 that The days of our years are threescore years and ten; and if by reason of strength they be fourscore years . . . John Lewis the man - the mentsch - got his “fourscore years,” just as the most poetic of monarchs predicted. But John Lewis the prophet, the non-violent warrior and dare I say, the saint, is eternal. His passing reminds me of a comment made by none other than Bob Hope who, upon learning of the passing of Sir Charles Chaplin back in 1978 said in a tearful voice:

“We were fortunate to have lived in his time . . .”

106 days until November 3 . . .