Written by Sharon Tubbs

A call rang out 50 years ago, and African-Americans answered with a unified voice. Local schools remained segregated, and blacks demanded a better education for their children. They convened, strategized, protested and marched. Church pastors often led the way. They boycotted select public schools, setting up “freedom schools” in church basements, according to Allen County-Fort Wayne Historical Society records. Public officials relented and devised a plan for busing and integration.

DeLois McKinley-Eldridge remembers those days. She taught students in one of the freedom schools. “Now that was a true unification of the African-American community,” she said.

But that was then.

Today, solidarity is a struggle for African-Americans in Fort Wayne, no matter how worthy the cause.

The Fort Wayne Ink Spot recently talked with a sampling of community-minded black residents. We asked about the power of a collective black voice in Fort Wayne. Most agreed that strong unity has faded here. They pointed to current issues -- violence, mental illness, food deserts, infant mortality, and low economic development on the southeast side, to name a few. Some saw signs of hope with three newly-elected African-Americans on the City Council, but they acknowledged that blacks aren’t collaborating for solutions the way they used to. And views on how to make the community stronger vary, highlighting the differences in goals, focus, and generational values among blacks today.

Pastors once “stood tall”

“I don’t think there’s any mystery that the so-called power of the black voice is disjointed,” City Councilman Glynn Hines said.
Reasons are multifaceted. “One,” he said, “is the black church.”

Hines and others, many of them 50 or older, remember the days when local preachers rallied together, fashioning a black voice that spoke for the community and grabbed attention at City Hall. They call out once prominent surnames that reigned from local pulpits, such as White, Adams, Bledsoe, Walker, Breedlove, and Perry.

“Those ministers, they stood tall,” said Mary Barksdale, the first black school board member for East Allen County Schools, who also served on a number of community boards. But she noticed declines in church attendance.

Today, she questions whether local leaders exist who are accepted by both the black community and the “power structure” downtown, she said. “That’s my concern.”

Pastor Robert Bell, of True Love Missionary Baptist Church, said local churches continue to do meaningful work. “My perspective is, we still have a voice,” he said. Yet, “it can be improved.”

“Everybody is saying what they want to say, and nobody’s coming together for the collective group.”

The victories of the Civil Rights Movement may be to blame. “I think sometimes success in some areas makes us forget about what we came from,” Bell said. “As we were struggling, we would come together, and we would bring others along.”

Bell oversees the United Pastors of Fort Wayne, a group of 18 committed pastors who fight for injustice, entrepreneurship, and fairness. In 2015, the group sued East Allen County Schools over the district’s early plans for the former Harding High School.

Yet, differences hinder unity even among preachers. Some won’t participate in the ecumenical group because of theological or denominational differences. For instance, Bell said the group allows female pastors to participate, so some Baptists won’t get involved because they believe it’s wrong for women to be pastors.

“I tell everybody, we gather for a funeral no matter who died,” Bell said. “Why can’t we gather for a cause no matter who’s there?”

Other pastors note the change of times.

Pastor Luther Whitfield, of New Covenant Worship Center, said today’s church doesn’t fill all the roles that black churches did decades ago when people expected them to meet their social, economic, and political needs. Blacks can now find assistance through other nonprofits and agencies, as well.

“I think sometimes we put a lot of unrealistic pressure on the church,” Whitfield said. “Doesn’t mean I lost my voice. Doesn’t mean I lost my impact,” he said. “It’s just a different time.”

Said Pastor Quincy McGhee, of LifeWay Bible Fellowship: “We have a voice if we’re preaching the Gospel.”

Organizations hope to rise again

The state of civil rights groups in Fort Wayne cause concern for some.

J. Synovia Brown, a former activist and one of the first blacks to work for GTE in 1955, served the NAACP, the Fort Wayne Urban League, and the Urban League Guild in times past. Today, she says, there is a void in communication.

“When something happens in the city, we used to have people that kind of brought people together,” Brown said. Now, “I see things that are happening, but I don’t see that kind of community togetherness anymore… I didn’t see the leadership of the institutions that we’ve depended on to bring things together.”

The Urban League fired its last CEO in May 2019. Currently Quinton Dixie, a board member, is filling in as interim CEO. (Read about an update on the Urban League on here.)

Dixie acknowledged that fewer people are involved in the organization but says Fort Wayne is not unique. Nationally, the number of affiliated branches across the country has declined.

“People aren’t as connected as we used to be,” he said. Various factors are at work. For one, people are more mobile and move from city to city for jobs. Plus, he said, technology offers options that compete for people’s attention.

Still, Dixie is optimistic. “What I do see in the black community, more than I have in the past, is people being proactive, as opposed to reactive.”

People are getting ahead of the game, Dixie said. Rather than wait on City Hall to change things for them, they’re trying to start businesses. They’re saying, “What can we do on our own to make an investment in our community?”

Moving forward, Dixie said, “I think the Urban League can play an important role in pulling people together.”

As for the local NAACP, Sheila Curry-Campbell, president, acknowledged that the roster has shortened. Togetherness is crucial to address serious issues, including crime and mental illness, among others.

“Membership is the lifeblood of the NAACP,” she said. “How do we get people to buy into what we’re selling?”

Curry-Campbell believes the organization’s decline coincides with declines in the black church. In the 1960s, the church and the NAACP walked in step, she said. Pastors were also NAACP members.

“That was when we had power,” she said, “because we were on one accord.”

A strong voice and unity are crucial for minority groups, she said. A turnaround may lie with the younger generation. Current NAACP initiatives target youth and young adults, hoping to attract new “freedom fighters,” Curry-Campbell said.

Answers may be close

Monique “Mo” Moss is the morning show host and program director for Fort Wayne’s Rhythm and Praise Gospel radio station. Originally from Indianapolis, Moss moved to the Summit City two years ago. At 26, she’s part of the new generation that Curry-Campbell and others want to attract.

“Do I think that our voice is being heard? No,” she said. “Or there wouldn’t be such an unserved population on the southeast side of Fort Wayne.”

She’s unfamiliar with Fort Wayne’s history of church and organizational activism. “If there was a unified voice in the 70s, well, I was born in ’93,” she said. “I’m just doing what I know and see right now, and what I see right now is not a unified black community.”

“It’s hard,” Moss said. “We’re supposed to be together and unified, but sometimes there’s only one seat at the table.” So, instead of supporting each other, blacks compete for the limited spots they’re allowed to occupy, she said.

That said, Moss sees good signs. She pointed to recent local events, including an annual networking gathering for black entrepreneurs. Other integrated meetings and conferences for women and millennials regularly attract African-Americans.

When it comes to drawing in millennials to more traditional organizations, Moss advised that older generations allow young people to learn from them, but also to bring their own creativity and views to the table.

“We have to have the freedom to do it just like we do it,” she said. “God hasn’t put us in a position to walk out somebody else’s purpose. He wants us to walk out ours.”

Other ingredients for a stronger black voice include black-owned media outlets, residents say. Hines and Brown said the end of a black-owned radio station and the black-owned newspaper, Frost Illustrated, left a void. Both provided forums for information and important discussions about African-American issues.

“We need some kind of communication,” Brown said.

With greater distribution, the Fort Wayne Ink Spot may help in that area, Hines said.

City Councilwoman Michelle Chambers focused on the positives.

“I absolutely think that we have powerful voices here in Fort Wayne,” she said. “We are not silent. But can we do better? Yes.”

One key is learning to coordinate, Chambers said. She and Hines noted the recent historic election of three African-Americans to City Council as proof of that. In November, Chambers, Hines, and Sharon Tucker won council seats, evidence that black unity is powerful -- and possible -- in Fort Wayne.

As candidates, the three worked collectively, supporting one another and knocking on doors together. They ran different campaigns, but encouraged people to vote, not just for themselves, but for all three black candidates.

“There is no crabs-in-a-barrel mentality here,” Chambers said. “We can get more done together.”

Sharon Tubbs is an author, speaker, and communications specialist. She writes issue-related stories for the Fort Wayne Ink Spot. She can be reached at SharonTubbs@msn.com.

Some of the voices interviewed for the article:
Glynn Hines, Pastor Luther Whitfield, J. Synovia Brown, Quinton Dixie, Sheila Curry-Campbell, and Monique Moss