Freedom never dies—unless the next generation drops the fight

Freedom is not free. Someone always pays the price--our friends, relatives and co-workers.

Two men, one a Kentuckian, and the other a native of Arkansas were felled last week. One by a bullet, the other by a seizure. Both of these freedom fighters made this world a better place, and we are enriched by their legacies, and bereft of their presence.

Rev. Louis Colemen of Kentucky and Vellis Reddin of Arkansas were not young men, but they had the heart of a lion and spines of steal. Neither could be intimidated, nor pushed off the course of justice, when they felt the cause was just.

For Vellis Reddin, the cause was an extremely personal one. As the only black craftsman working on the Clinton Library in Little Rock Arkansas, Reddin endured the taunts and quasi-terroristic threats of his fellow construction workers with less fear then they would have liked.
Reportedly, several klansmen were part of the work crew and they told Reddin more than once that they didn’t want any ‘nwords’ working on the Clinton Library project. Their alleged actions reportedly spurred Reddin to file a complaint first with his local union, then, with the international union.

Over the course of nearly a decade, he was reportedly blackballed from the union, and was not sent out on jobs, a fact, which severely curtailed his income, but still he fought.

He fought against the union. He fought against a group of land thieves, who were reportedly using a dead man’s probate to steal his land, under the pretense that the white land owner who had sold the property to Reddin’s late father, and who died more than 50 years ago, was still alive, still owned Reddin’s land, and was still selling parts of the land to others.

Vellis Reddin fought against a government agency, which allegedly refused to run sewage lines to his farm property, while running sewage lines to his white neighbors. He fought against the local liquor licensing authorities, who were looking for an excuse to close his business, because they didn’t want this particular black man to have enough money to continue his legal battles.

Yes, Reddin was a fighter. He once told me that he was a dangerous man, because he was a small man and people thought a small black man was an easy target. Small he may have been, but he was never an easy target.

He grew up rough and hard. His mother owned a tavern in the boonies in West Helena, Arkansas and Vellis worked in the family business at a young age. By the time he was 14 years old, Reddin routinely carried a thousand dollars around in his pocket, and, even then, he was not one to be trifled with. He routinely packed a pistol and wasn’t afraid to use it.

I am sorry we never met in person, but we burned up the telephone wires over the years–thank goodness for free cell phone weekends. A year or so ago, we had a series of long telephone conversations, when he gave me a bit of family history.

As is the case with many black men who won’t turn themselves in to door mats for some one else’s comfort, Vellis and his father lived on the edge. He once told me that someone tried to kill his father nearly 30 years ago, and his own life was a series of legal battles and physical confrontations. Then, and in these modern times, the Redden men were not the type of people to give in without fighting back.

It seems that nearly two generations ago, a car load of supremacists weren’t too happy with the elder Reddin’s outspoken ways. They shot at him, and wound up chasing him across the back roads of Mississippi, until Reddin, Senior lost them on a crooked road.

Mr. Reddin lived to fight another day thanks to the grace of God and excellent driving skills, but his son vowed never to be in a position where he was unable to defend himself. Vellis Reddin promised himself that no one would “catch him out” like they had caught his father, in the boondocks, weaponless and alone, with no back up.

Ironically, Vellis Reddin did not die in the boondocks. He died in his own back yard, in Little Rock, just after he filed another lawsuit against the federal government over his sewage problems. Last week, Reddin was found behind his Little Rock home with a gunshot wound to his gut. He later died from the injury.

Many say the incident is suspicious. Reddin was reportedly working on a piece of pipe, and had supposedly laid a gun on his work bench, while he welded or cut the pipe. There is speculation that somehow, the pipe fell and caused the gun to somehow fire, hitting Reddin in the stomach, but too many people say that is unlikely.

No doubt, Vellis had enemies. He was at odds with several of his renters who thought that they didn’t have to pay a black landlord with the same regularity they paid a white one. His ongoing lawsuit against his union didn’t set too well with some of the union’s sheet wearing members. In the process of defending his civil rights, Reddin made enemies high and low, in state and federal government, in Arkansas political circles, and among blacks and whites alike who found out that he was not a person who gave in or gave up.

No, Vellis Reddin was not a man to be taken lightly. Someone may have decided to “take him out” and eliminate the man and the problems he was causing the union, the feds, and local bureaucrats. Reddin’s death is, indeed suspicious.

Farm and civil rights activists around the nation believe there is something mighty “funny” about the way he died. They don’t believe his death was accidental. They say ‘guns just don’t go off like that.’

Meanwhile, in Kentucky, a civil rights icon, a fighter of another stripe, has joined his ancestors. Reverend Louis Coleman, founder of the Justice Resource Center, has died after suffering a series of seizures. At 64, Reverend Coleman was a civil rights legend in the state of Kentucky, travelling the state to support the cause of civil rights.

According to a local newspaper,

Mr. Coleman’s death is “a major, major loss to the state of Kentucky,” said P.G. Peeples, president and CEO of Lexington’s Urban League. “Louis Coleman was undoubtedly the most recognizable civil rights figure in Kentucky. And so his loss leaves a major hole in the civil rights community.” (Herald-Leader, July 6, 2008)

Reverend Coleman was no stranger to the tri-state. More than two years ago, when the federal government was foreclosing on Harry Young, a black farmer who had been battling with the Farm Service Administration for more than a decade, Reverend Coleman came to Owensboro to lend his support.

The week before the auction of Young’s land, when negotiators failed to come to a settlement for the Youngs to keep their land, Reverend Coleman joined a group of local black farmers and friends as they protested the proposed sale on the parking lot of the Farm Services Agency outside Owensboro. In tones reminiscent of the Civil Rights Movement of the 1960’s, (referring to the farm auction which was to occur the following week) Reverend Coleman told an audience of news reporters, federal law enforcement agents, farm loan bureaucrats and protestors, “We’ll be back with a bus load of people who don’t mind going to jail.”

I remember Reverend Coleman. I remember his vibrant voice, his noisemaking whistle as he and the group he brought back with him to the Young family farm auction made good their threat of trying to disrupt and derail the auction. They failed to derail the auction, but their presence let it be known than black folk haven’t gone to sleep when it comes to civil rights.

Behind the scenes, in the courtrooms, city council chambers and congressional offices, hundreds of people like Rev. Coleman and Vellis Reddin continue to fight for justice. Despite the odds, they do not give in, give up or sell out.

But, the price for their strength of character is high. Many have bad health, due to stress, and sheer rage at the injustice they see in the world. They have been threatened, and have suffered job loss, threats to life and property, and still they go on, because the job is not over and civil rights are still not fully vested in our communities.

Don’t let the lack of attacking police dogs and water hoses fool you. People are still at risk for demanding that the Constitution apply to everyone. Some lose jobs over their refusal to go along and get along. Others suffer ill health due to stress, and still others lose their lives.

Now matter how you cut it, the message is clear. Freedom isn’t free.