When MLK studied in Boston, he joined a Black fraternity. A plaque will highlight this hidden history.
'It's our jobs as Black folk to chronicle our history,' said
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The ceremony will take place on June 18, the 72nd wedding anniversary of King and Coretta Scott King. It's the latest in a citywide effort to cement the Kings' presence in Boston.
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Last year, Clennon King and a collection of community members secured a headstone for
of Music student who introduced the couple. In 2023, another memorial commemorating the young couple's
The
Fraternity hopefuls on bid day 1952 for the Sigma Chapter of Alpha Phi Alpha Fraternity at Boston University. John H. Bustamante is in the first row left and Martin Luther King Jr. in in the front row on the right.
Bustamante Family
But Clennon King said the forthcoming memorial will orient King's legacy away from downtown Boston, and back towards the heart of Boston's Black community. He cut his teeth as a minister at the historic Twelfth Baptist Church that was then on Shawmut Avenue. He satiated his cravings for home-cooked meals here. He lived here.
'[King] was baptized out of that neighborhood,' said Clennon King, who is not related to the civil rights leader.
However, his father, C. B. King, represented the Rev. King during the Albany Movement, a yearlong civil rights campaign in the small Georgia city.
The Grove Hall neighborhood that
14 Wabon St. lies in is steeped in local significance. Years after King resettled back south, this corridor of Boston became the site of a
The house itself
also encapsulates a long gone chapter in Boston history, which Lauren B. Martin considers deeply personal. It was the family home of her father,
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'Those kinds of spirits and memories linger in that space,' Martin said.
King arrived in Boston in 1951 to study theology at Boston University, and settled in a city remarkably different from his beloved Atlanta. He found community among the churches, restaurants, and businesses inhabited by Black folks in Roxbury and the South End, but the Black population was smaller.
At this point, King was not a household name, Clennon King said. 'He was just a number, just another student.'
The plaque also underscores the legacy of Alpha Phi Alpha and the National Pan-hellenic Council, or
When you look back at photos of King, he was surrounded by Divine Nine giants. Andrew Young is an Alpha. The Rev. Ralph Abernathy was a member of Kappa Alpha Psi Fraternity Inc. Coretta Scott King later became an honorary member of Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority Inc., the country's first Black sorority.
'Everything [King] did was to leave a legacy for his children and the people around him,' Asirifi said. 'You don't seek an organization like Alpha if you don't want to be a part of a larger community.'
King attended an Alpha recruitment mixer on nearby Ruthven Street, at his future line brother's grandparents' home. They crossed through the fraternity's Sigma Chapter at Baron H. Martin's home.
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Dues card for Martin Luther King Jr.'s Alpha Phi Alpha Fraternity membership.
Collection of the Smithsonian National Museum of African American History and Culture, Gift of Alpha Phi Alpha Fraternity, Inc.
As a doctoral student, King was older than his line brothers and became a big brother figure for some.
'My dad never said it, but you could tell from his voice how much he admired [King],' said Myra Hemingway, the daughter of
There is at least one moment in writing that details King's experiences as a pledge. In a 2018 Globe interview, Baron H. Martin recalled bringing the young Alpha pledges to his Wabon Street house to paint a fence.
King refused. 'He pointed out that he was a minister ... and he wouldn't do it,' the late judge recalled.
Not wanting to be bested by the pledge, Martin disciplined King the way many frats historically have. He grabbed his wooden paddle.
'I hit him so hard — one smack [on the behind]," Martin recalled. 'You can't do that anymore.'
Related
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MLK's seven line brothers formed lasting legacies in their own right. Herman Hemingway, at the top left in the phot, opened his own law practice and, under Mayor Kevin White, served as founding director for the city's Office of Human Rights. He is memorialized at
Hemingway had paved his own way, so much so that Myra, his daughter, said he didn't fully acknowledge his title as MLK's line brother until people behind the civil rights leader's monument in Washington, D.C. began reaching out for interviews.
Herman died in 2020, so Myra considers the upcoming memorial as bittersweet.
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'He really loved his fraternity and the support they gave him through the brotherhood over the years meant so much to him,' Myra said. 'It's hard that he's not here, but in spirit, I know he's looking down and smiling.'
The Grove Hall residence where King became an Alpha is a hotbed of not only Black Boston history, but also rampant change. No matter who lives on the block, the people at the center of the forthcoming plaque hope the stories of the people who once frequented the area are a permanent part of the block's story.
'Things are going to change, people are going to change neighborhoods,' Lauren B. Martin said. 'But hopefully these markers gives the new neighborhood a reference and an understanding of how we're all related.'
Tiana Woodard can be reached at
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a day ago
Brooklyn's Black church choirs persist amid attendance decline, gentrification
NEW YORK (RNS) — On Sunday mornings in Brooklyn, nicknamed the borough of churches, the muffled sounds of choir singers, hand‑claps and Hammond organs can be heard from the sidewalks. The borough still has a church on nearly every block, but over the years, the number of people in the pews has thinned. Many church choirs in the heart of Brooklyn, however, have kept singing — despite boasting fewer singers than in years past as neighborhoods face gentrification and organized religious affiliation decreases. Standing in front of the gospel choir at Concord Baptist Church of Christ in the Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood, Jessica Howard, 25, led the gospel standard 'God Is' on a Sunday in July. Dressed in a powder-pink floral dress, she called out lines naming God as 'joy in sorrow' and 'strength for tomorrow.' Some choir members wiped away tears as the song stoked emotions from around the room.' As a Black Christian person, as a descendant of slaves, I think when I sing, I feel really connected to my ancestors,' said Howard, who grew up in Virginia and now sings as a soloist at Concord, where she's been a congregant for six years. 'I really feel sometimes like it's not just me singing, it's my lineage singing.' ___ This content is written and produced by Religion News Service and distributed by The Associated Press. RNS and AP partner on some religion news content. RNS is solely responsible for this story. ___ Founded in 1847, Concord Baptist Church is Brooklyn's oldest historically Black congregation. At the time, a nearby neighborhood known as Weeksville, now considered part of central Brooklyn, was the second-largest free Black community in the United States before the Civil War, said Amanda Henderson, collections historian at the Weeksville Heritage Center. Louise Nelson, a Brooklyn native and church historian of the Berean Baptist Church in Crown Heights, said music was the foundation of the early church, and that remains true for churches in the borough today. "The songs that uplifted us and kept us going through the midst of our misery — music is who we are,' Nelson said. 'I don't think you can have a church today without the music because it brings unity in that idea that we can all do it together.' According to Pew Research Center data, between 2019 and 2023, Black Protestant monthly church attendance fell from 61% to 46% — the largest decline among major U.S. religious groups. The COVID-19 pandemic accelerated this trend, and its impact is visible in the thinning choir stands. Glenn McMillan, Concord's director of music ministry and a musicology teacher at the City University of New York, who has worked in New York City church choirs since 1994, recalls a time when historically Black churches in Brooklyn regularly had multiple choirs at each parish. 'In the last 20 years, the members of church choirs started getting older because this generation does not see church as important as it was back in the day,' McMillan said. The choir at Concord has shrunk from about 50 voices before the pandemic to 30 today, McMillan said. Back in 2006, the choir featured 100 voices. According to research published by in June, Black Protestants attended church on Zoom more than other denominations during the pandemic, and they have been the slowest to return to in‑person worship. 'The internet has taken over and streaming has taken over,' McMillan said. 'People don't goin to the building as much as they are streaming it.' McMillan said that when in-person services first resumed, it took a long time for the choir to rebuild because many members were still staying home for health reasons. Recently, though, he's seen more people showing up. 'I'm begging people my age to come to Concord,' said Howard, the youngest member of the gospel choir, adding that only a handful of people around her age attend the church. Gwen Davis, a senior member of Berean Baptist Church and a choir soloist for more than 40 years, recalled Easter services in the mid‑1960s, when over 400 people filled the pews and four separate choirs led the congregation in song. 'It was a lot of energy,' Davis said. 'Your ear got trained really well.' Today, Davis said, a typical service attracts approximately 150 people, and roughly 100 virtually. Over time, Berean's choirs have consolidated into a single mass choir with approximately 20 singers. A professional soloist who has been singing at different churches across Brooklyn throughout her adult life, Davis said she believes one reason for choirs thinning out is the decline of music education in New York City Public Schools. 'When I was in high school, I had music every day,' said Davis, who attended high school in the 1970s in central Brooklyn. 'I don't think the children are learning notes and sharps and clefs. I mean, that was like general knowledge for us at the time.' During the 1970s fiscal crisis, the city of New York eliminated thousands of teaching positions, including art and music teachers, and converted music rooms into other classrooms, narrowing arts access in schools in low-income and majority-Black neighborhoods. 'For me, singing is not just singing, it's ministry,' Davis said. 'Some of these old hymns were composed years and years ago, and those old hymns have sustained a people — many people.' Gentrification is another force reshaping Brooklyn. Between 2010 and 2020, Crown Heights lost nearly 19,000 Black residents while gaining about 15,000 whites, according to 2020 Census data. More than 75% of Bedford-Stuyvesant residents in 2000 were Black, while in 2020, around 41% were Black. Those demographic shifts have hit historically Black Catholic parishes hard. St. Teresa of Avilain Crown Heights, which was the first church in the nation to hold Mass in Creole, will close by the end of the year. The anticipated closure demonstrates a wider pattern of Catholic churches that serve people of color closing, often attributed to declining attendance. For Mike Delouis, 38, St. Teresa's longtime cantor and a son of Haitian immigrants who was baptized at the church, the loss is personal. 'Singing for me is not about performance but about participation,' said Delouis, who juggles three services most Sundays between St. Teresa and the Co-Cathedral of St. Joseph in Prospect Heights. 'St. Augustine said singing is praying twice.' Delouis is part of a group fighting to keep the parish open, hoping to preserve a piece of their history in a rapidly changing Brooklyn. 'Even through the process of gentrification, there are people that hear the music and they come in,' he said. In June, from his place in the choir loft, Delouis heard the priest announce the church's closure. The words hit hard. 'It was actually kind of hard to finish,' he said. 'We only had the closing hymn to do, and I thought, 'Oh my gosh, no — we can't let this happen.'' Jesteena Walters, 55, has been part of Bedford Central Presbyterian Church in Crown Heights since she was an infant. She began singing at age 6 in the junior choir, and when she turned 18, she transitioned to its Gratitude choir, which her older siblings also joined. 'It was the young hip gospel choir of the church,' Walters said. Today, Gratitude no longer exists in the same way. Its members are older and often reunite only for special occasions, such as singing at funerals. Over the decades, Walters has also watched the congregation itself shift demographics. "When I first went to Bedford Central, it was primarily a white church, and so we were in the minority at the time,' Walters said, referring to the early 1970s. 'In the years that would come, itwas primarily a Black church.' It later became home to a large West Indian population, and today includes many members of Guyanese heritage. 'To be honest, I couldn't break down the history of Brooklyn in a way that says who came first,' Walters said. 'At the end of the day, I believe in people coming together, if we can truly connect, feel each other's pain and celebrate each other's joys.' McMillan emphasized that choirs continue to play a central role in Black church life, even as congregations decline in membership. 'Choir singers are some of the most faithful churchgoers,' McMillan said. 'A choir is a community within the church community, and whenever you have a really consistent and strong choir, they grow with one another.' Howard said she hopes to become a choir director one day, and she credits McMillan and the gospel choir for encouraging her toward the role. 'I'd like to follow in that tradition,' she said.
San Francisco Chronicle
a day ago
- San Francisco Chronicle
Brooklyn's Black church choirs persist amid attendance decline, gentrification
NEW YORK (RNS) — On Sunday mornings in Brooklyn, nicknamed the borough of churches, the muffled sounds of choir singers, hand‑claps and Hammond organs can be heard from the sidewalks. The borough still has a church on nearly every block, but over the years, the number of people in the pews has thinned. Many church choirs in the heart of Brooklyn, however, have kept singing — despite boasting fewer singers than in years past as neighborhoods face gentrification and organized religious affiliation decreases. Standing in front of the gospel choir at Concord Baptist Church of Christ in the Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood, Jessica Howard, 25, led the gospel standard 'God Is' on a Sunday in July. Dressed in a powder-pink floral dress, she called out lines naming God as 'joy in sorrow' and 'strength for tomorrow.' Some choir members wiped away tears as the song stoked emotions from around the room.' As a Black Christian person, as a descendant of slaves, I think when I sing, I feel really connected to my ancestors,' said Howard, who grew up in Virginia and now sings as a soloist at Concord, where she's been a congregant for six years. 'I really feel sometimes like it's not just me singing, it's my lineage singing.' ___ This content is written and produced by Religion News Service and distributed by The Associated Press. RNS and AP partner on some religion news content. RNS is solely responsible for this story. ___ Founded in 1847, Concord Baptist Church is Brooklyn's oldest historically Black congregation. At the time, a nearby neighborhood known as Weeksville, now considered part of central Brooklyn, was the second-largest free Black community in the United States before the Civil War, said Amanda Henderson, collections historian at the Weeksville Heritage Center. Louise Nelson, a Brooklyn native and church historian of the Berean Baptist Church in Crown Heights, said music was the foundation of the early church, and that remains true for churches in the borough today. "The songs that uplifted us and kept us going through the midst of our misery — music is who we are,' Nelson said. 'I don't think you can have a church today without the music because it brings unity in that idea that we can all do it together.' According to Pew Research Center data, between 2019 and 2023, Black Protestant monthly church attendance fell from 61% to 46% — the largest decline among major U.S. religious groups. The COVID-19 pandemic accelerated this trend, and its impact is visible in the thinning choir stands. Glenn McMillan, Concord's director of music ministry and a musicology teacher at the City University of New York, who has worked in New York City church choirs since 1994, recalls a time when historically Black churches in Brooklyn regularly had multiple choirs at each parish. 'In the last 20 years, the members of church choirs started getting older because this generation does not see church as important as it was back in the day,' McMillan said. The choir at Concord has shrunk from about 50 voices before the pandemic to 30 today, McMillan said. Back in 2006, the choir featured 100 voices. According to research published by in June, Black Protestants attended church on Zoom more than other denominations during the pandemic, and they have been the slowest to return to in‑person worship. 'The internet has taken over and streaming has taken over,' McMillan said. 'People don't goin to the building as much as they are streaming it.' McMillan said that when in-person services first resumed, it took a long time for the choir to rebuild because many members were still staying home for health reasons. Recently, though, he's seen more people showing up. 'I'm begging people my age to come to Concord,' said Howard, the youngest member of the gospel choir, adding that only a handful of people around her age attend the church. Gwen Davis, a senior member of Berean Baptist Church and a choir soloist for more than 40 years, recalled Easter services in the mid‑1960s, when over 400 people filled the pews and four separate choirs led the congregation in song. 'It was a lot of energy,' Davis said. 'Your ear got trained really well.' Today, Davis said, a typical service attracts approximately 150 people, and roughly 100 virtually. Over time, Berean's choirs have consolidated into a single mass choir with approximately 20 singers. A professional soloist who has been singing at different churches across Brooklyn throughout her adult life, Davis said she believes one reason for choirs thinning out is the decline of music education in New York City Public Schools. 'When I was in high school, I had music every day,' said Davis, who attended high school in the 1970s in central Brooklyn. 'I don't think the children are learning notes and sharps and clefs. I mean, that was like general knowledge for us at the time.' During the 1970s fiscal crisis, the city of New York eliminated thousands of teaching positions, including art and music teachers, and converted music rooms into other classrooms, narrowing arts access in schools in low-income and majority-Black neighborhoods. 'For me, singing is not just singing, it's ministry,' Davis said. 'Some of these old hymns were composed years and years ago, and those old hymns have sustained a people — many people.' Gentrification is another force reshaping Brooklyn. Between 2010 and 2020, Crown Heights lost nearly 19,000 Black residents while gaining about 15,000 whites, according to 2020 Census data. More than 75% of Bedford-Stuyvesant residents in 2000 were Black, while in 2020, around 41% were Black. Those demographic shifts have hit historically Black Catholic parishes hard. St. Teresa of Avilain Crown Heights, which was the first church in the nation to hold Mass in Creole, will close by the end of the year. The anticipated closure demonstrates a wider pattern of Catholic churches that serve people of color closing, often attributed to declining attendance. For Mike Delouis, 38, St. Teresa's longtime cantor and a son of Haitian immigrants who was baptized at the church, the loss is personal. 'Singing for me is not about performance but about participation,' said Delouis, who juggles three services most Sundays between St. Teresa and the Co-Cathedral of St. Joseph in Prospect Heights. 'St. Augustine said singing is praying twice.' Delouis is part of a group fighting to keep the parish open, hoping to preserve a piece of their history in a rapidly changing Brooklyn. 'Even through the process of gentrification, there are people that hear the music and they come in,' he said. In June, from his place in the choir loft, Delouis heard the priest announce the church's closure. The words hit hard. 'It was actually kind of hard to finish,' he said. 'We only had the closing hymn to do, and I thought, 'Oh my gosh, no — we can't let this happen.'' Jesteena Walters, 55, has been part of Bedford Central Presbyterian Church in Crown Heights since she was an infant. She began singing at age 6 in the junior choir, and when she turned 18, she transitioned to its Gratitude choir, which her older siblings also joined. 'It was the young hip gospel choir of the church,' Walters said. Today, Gratitude no longer exists in the same way. Its members are older and often reunite only for special occasions, such as singing at funerals. Over the decades, Walters has also watched the congregation itself shift demographics. "When I first went to Bedford Central, it was primarily a white church, and so we were in the minority at the time,' Walters said, referring to the early 1970s. 'In the years that would come, itwas primarily a Black church.' It later became home to a large West Indian population, and today includes many members of Guyanese heritage. 'To be honest, I couldn't break down the history of Brooklyn in a way that says who came first,' Walters said. 'At the end of the day, I believe in people coming together, if we can truly connect, feel each other's pain and celebrate each other's joys.' McMillan emphasized that choirs continue to play a central role in Black church life, even as congregations decline in membership. 'Choir singers are some of the most faithful churchgoers,' McMillan said. 'A choir is a community within the church community, and whenever you have a really consistent and strong choir, they grow with one another.' 'I'd like to follow in that tradition,' she said.
San Francisco Chronicle
a day ago
- San Francisco Chronicle
'Black Spaces' at OMCA traces the past and future of Black communities in the East Bay
The Oakland Museum of California's exhibition 'Black Spaces: Reclaim & Remain' explores the intertwined histories of displacement, resistance, and resilience within Black American communities in Oakland and throughout the East Bay. Featuring newly commissioned art and architecture as well as archival research, it seeks to show how these communities have remained not only together in the face of potential displacement, but reimagined ideas of home and belonging. 'Black Spaces: Reclaim & Remain' opens with an immersive historical presentation charting Black communities' migrations, the creation of local social fabrics and eventually, the displacement caused by so-called 'urban renewal' campaigns and the need for repair and reparation after gentrification. The second half of the exhibition presents the perspectives of artist Adrian L. Burrell, architect June Grant with blinkLAB architectures and organizations, Archive of Urban Futures and Moms 4 Housing. They imagine future possibilities with three installations on display. It's a hyperlocal and essential show that speaks to what OMCA does so well.
