My People Are Rising (19 page)

Now, I had already been inducted into service, and it was not the US Army. It was a new kind of army, a righteous army that was going to fight for the betterment of everyone on this earth, starting with the Black people here at home.

I hopped in my '56 Buick, dressed in a black beret and a green army fatigue jacket, with my 9mm in my shoulder holster. By the time I arrived at the induction center my heart was pumping fast, my adrenaline moving rapidly.
The nerve of those bastards
, I thought to myself.
They think I'm going to fight and die in their army
. I walked through the door and was confronted by a sergeant sitting at a desk.

“Your induction card, please,” he asked. Immediately, I pulled it out and tore it into little pieces as I blurted out a litany of words and profanities, ending with “I am not going to fight in your motherfucking army.” I threw the pieces of the draft card in the sergeant's face and stormed out. I think we were both shocked at my actions. But under the circumstances, at the time, it was the only response I could give.

It did not take long before the chapter had amassed large amounts of weapons. My personal collection had expanded beyond the carbine given to me by Voodoo Man and the 9mm from Tommy to include a whole arsenal of weapons, including shotguns and rifles. One day Poppy approached me to discuss the guns stacking up in my closet. He was getting a little concerned. We often held weapons classes in the basement of the house or at the Hardings' next door, in their basement. Poppy had tried to ignore all the guns, but he had fought in one of the bloodiest wars in history and knew all too well the damage and destruction weapons could cause.

One night he issued an ultimatum: “Aaron,” he said, “either those guns have to go or you have to go.”

I recalled the confrontation three years earlier about my insubordination, his arms still big from all the morning pushups he had done over the years. He now had a few strands of gray in his hair, and a bald spot was beginning to spread on the back of his head. We both knew it was time for me to go. If I wanted to take on this role of a revolutionary, then I had to also take on the role of an independent adult. Late into the night I gathered my weapons and headed to my girlfriend
Tanya's
place, leaving the comfort of my parents' home behind.

My parents must have felt the tide of the growing movement. If they were afraid for me, they never showed it. They were more supportive than ever, their love stronger, and we were closer now than in the past. They felt the urgency and the significance of the hour just as we did. I did manage to finish out the year at the university; I felt I owed my parents that, at least.

Putting on the Black Panther uniform and committing our lives to the liberation struggle changed the purpose and meaning of our entire identities. It was a liberating experience. Societal restrictions and conformities dropped by the wayside, leaving a fearless, defiant, powerful human being. We no longer looked at ourselves in the same way, nor did we look at the system and its representatives in the same manner. We were the freest of the free.

13

Huey and the UN

Igqira lendlela nguqo ngqothwane

Sebeqabele gqi thapha bathi nguqo ngqothwane

(Diviner of the roadways—the knock-knock beetle

It just passed by here—the knock-knock beetle)

—Miriam Makeba, “Qongqothwane (The Click Song),” 1960

At National Headquarters
in Oakland, the party was gearing up for the July trial of the minister of defense, Huey P. Newton, charged with murder in the death of an Oakland police officer. When Huey had entered the Alameda County jail in October 1967, he had left behind a core group of about twenty-five to thirty Panthers. Now the party membership had exploded to well over three thousand, scattered throughout the United States. “Free .Huey” posters were plastered all over buildings and walls from New York to Los Angeles. The party's refrain was “the sky is the limit if Huey is not set free.” Chairman Bobby traveled relentlessly throughout the States and Europe, organizing support committees and party chapters, attracting thousands of supporters all over the world. An alliance had been formed with SNCC, drafting its leaders onto the party's Central Committee. BPP Chief of Staff David Hilliard and Captain Landon Williams attempted to travel to Cuba to solicit support for Huey's trial but were detained in Mexico City by the FBI.

We wore our “Free Huey” buttons on our leather coats and fatigue jackets like medals of honor, hoping that someday Huey would come home. Huey P. Newton was our guiding force. He embodied everything a Black superhero could possibly be. It was Huey who'd had the courage to lead a band of armed and well-disciplined Black men to confront equally armed white, racist police officers, putting an almost immediate halt to the police brutality against and murder of the Black citizens of Oakland. And, as a result, he became a wanted, hunted man, eventually cornered and threatened with death.

Bobby Seale, knowing Huey's importance to the movement, dedicated himself to freeing the minister of defense. Right after departing Seattle back in April, Chairman Bobby immediately went on tour, organizing Black Panther chapters and branches all across the country, mainly for the purpose of expanding the movement to make sure the government understood we would not stand by and let Huey be unjustly convicted. There were “Free Huey” rallies throughout the world. The popular poster of Huey in the wicker chair turned up in far-flung places like the Philippines, India, Japan, and throughout Europe and South America. And, with Huey's trial starting in late July, the party wanted to leave nothing to chance.

One Friday evening Chairman Bobby called. He told me to fly to San Francisco on Saturday and call for further orders. The next morning, LewJack and I were on the first flight to San Francisco. When we landed I called National Headquarters as the chairman had instructed. We were told to wait at the airport; Eldridge, Bobby, and others would meet us there.

About four hours later, Chairman Bobby arrived, along with Eldridge and Shermont Banks, captain of the Southern California chapter. Shermont came in place of Bunchy Carter, their chapter's deputy minister of defense, who had stayed in Los Angeles to drill and prepare the troops for Huey's upcoming trial.

Both of Huey's brothers, Walter and Melvin, came along, as well as Emory Douglas, the minister of culture. We all hopped on a red-eye flight to New York. On the flight Chairman Bobby explained to me that a delegation of Panthers was going to go to the UN to meet with representatives in an attempt to persuade them to intervene in Huey's trial, with the ultimate goal of addressing the general assembly. James Forman of SNCC, who had connections that could get us into the UN, would lead the delegation. The plan was for Panthers in full uniform to hold “Free Huey” flags, one next to each flag of the UN member nations. The party knew how to use the dramatic to its advantage. This display was intended to symbolize for the world the importance of our leader's receiving a fair trial, and also to bring attention to the larger human rights issue of the plight of Black people throughout the ghettos of the United States.

Stokely Carmichael and several New York Panthers, including Chairman Brothers, a cat who had to be the oldest Panther in the party, met us at the airport. After a fast, wild ride with Stokely behind the wheel, we arrived at his house, where we all sat down to talk. I was blown away when his wife, Miriam Makeba, the famous South African singer living in exile, was introduced to us. I wasn't expecting to meet Miriam Makeba on this trip. I had grown up listening to her music and reading about the courageous stand she had taken against apartheid and the South African government. She said very little, barely even looking us in the eyes as she quietly served refreshments. The whole time we were at Stokely's house, I was amazed to be in the same room as the beautiful, gifted Miriam Makeba. I felt that we men should be paying homage to this true African queen, not being humbly served by her.

Many years later, I learned about Stokely's abusive behavior toward Miriam Makeba. The Black woman as subservient to the Black man was a mentality that pervaded many Black Nationalist organizations, and it would be something Stokely would have to change if he were to remain a member of the Black Panther Party. The party's official position, set by the Central Committee, was that women were equal to men and that a woman had the power to do anything a man could do. However, in day-to-day activity, things didn't always turn out that way. It was a constant struggle to change the thinking of men in the party.

I had been inspired by Stokely as a student at Garfield, and then had met him several times when we were both in Oakland. He had been one of my heroes. The flame of struggle had been lit by his fiery words. But he was different from Bobby, Eldridge, and other Panthers. In Oakland, I had watched Stokely. He seemed uneasy, unsure of himself around the hardcore Panther brothers, most of whom had not gone to college or even entertained the idea of higher education, while Stokely was a graduate of the very competitive Bronx Science High School and Howard University. Those early California Panthers were some righteous, stomp-down brothers, ex-thugs, hoodlums, pimps—as well as some serious college students. But they all had in common a real, honest, hard side. They were genuine, unpretentious; serious, yet easygoing. I guess Stokely could tell that those brothers and sisters were about as real as you would ever find.

Emory Douglas, Walter Newton, Captain Banks, and I ended up in a cramped, stuffy apartment of the eighteen-year-old New York chapter captain, Judan Ford. Judan was a year younger than me, and I could see he had his hands full in keeping the newly formed New York chapter moving. I could relate, and I sympathized with him. In his nature he seemed even younger than eighteen, and I wondered how long he would last and how he would handle the older brothers and sisters. I'd noticed that Chairman Bobby seemed to like assigning young brothers at the helm. He probably liked the enthusiasm and fearlessness of young people, and I don't think he looked at youth as a limitation. After all, Little Bobby Hutton had been just sixteen when he became the party's first member.

That evening I called my parents to let them know I had arrived safely. My mother unfortunately had to give me some very bad news: Grandada, my grandfather on Poppy's side, had passed away from a massive stroke. I was stunned, unprepared to hear such devastating news. My first instinct was to run and hide, to find a closet somewhere to be alone. But for security reasons we were not allowed to leave the premises, so I went out onto a small balcony and looked up into the night sky, drifting off into memories of Grandada.

He had been such an important part of my life, as he was to all six of his grandkids. I thought about the summers in Chicago, sitting on his lap on the porch after supper, Grandada rubbing his whiskers against our faces. A giant of a man, he used to let all of us climb on his back and wrestle and tussle with him. He would sometimes tickle us until we cried from laughter. We caught lightning bugs while he played one of his many harmonicas. And we listened to his stories of our father as a young boy. We had never seen him angry, and had never seen him in despair. And I remembered how he loved his Limburger cheese and beer—Pabst Blue Ribbon—often adding a raw egg to his glass. He would be sorely missed. After some time alone, out in the muggy New York night, I finally went in and rejoined the others, trying to put aside my personal loss in order to prepare for the upcoming event, knowing that Grandada would always be with me.

The next day I found myself sitting on a hard wooden bench in a hot, stuffy outer office—the national headquarters of SNCC. Eldridge, Chairman Bobby, and Melvin Newton were inside James Forman's office along with Stokely, talking about the plans for the UN operation. In the outer room, I sat with Emory Douglas, Captain Banks, and Walter Newton in the sweltering heat, watching an old clock on the wall as we got to know each other and wondered how long this meeting was going to last. There were several SNCC field marshals in the building. One of them was Crutch from Los Angeles. I noticed they weren't very friendly toward us, but I didn't know why.

We could hear the voices in James Forman's office getting louder. It was obvious there was tension mounting behind that closed door. “Sonny Boy,” as Huey called his brother Walter, was straight from the streets, and diplomacy was not one of his strong points. “What the fuck are they doing in there? They better not be bullshitting around. I'll hurt a mothafucka behind my brother.” Emory and I tried to calm Sonny Boy down as he paced the floor, threatening to storm into the closed-door meeting. The voices were getting louder and sounding angrier. Suddenly there was a loud
BAM
, and we could hear Eldridge cursing, using a plethora of “motherfuckers.”

Minutes later the three Panthers came storming out, followed by the short, stocky James Forman. Forman had been another hero of mine and probably of many others as well.

“Let's get the fuck out of here,” Eldridge barked.

We left in a hurry, with Emory and me coaxing Sonny Boy out of the building. We hopped in our car and took off.

“That punk was trying to make a power play. The party don't play that shit,” said Chairman Bobby. “You see, he brought his field marshals up here. Fuck it. He was supposed to get us into the UN. Fuck those jive-ass niggers.”

I didn't know what had happened in the meeting with James Forman, but it was obvious things had not gone as planned. Apparently there were serious disagreements between the Panthers and Forman as to how the UN plan was going to work. An activist long before Bobby and Eldridge became revolutionaries, Forman evidently wanted to make sure the party understood who was in charge. He had even brought his field marshals up to New York, a move that, to us, seemed an effort to intimidate the party. The reality, however, was that no one intimidated the party—not the pigs, not the FBI, not SNCC field marshals, no one. Nevertheless, the plan to gain entrance to the UN and for Bobby and Eldridge to address the general assembly totally fell apart. The party was left trying to pull together something for the next day so the whole undertaking would not have been a total failure.