Surveillance shouldn’t stop activists from pushing their cause

David L. Acey Sr., a former Orange Mound Mobilizer, and Calvin Taylor, a former Invader, had their own “Bob Smith.”

Except his name was Marrell McCollough.

“Bob Smith,” was the fake online name used by Memphis Police Sgt. Timothy Reynolds to befriend activists on social media and report their movements to the MPD. This happened after the protests of 2016 shook up a city long too complacent about the suffering of many of its citizens.

Five decades earlier, McCollough’s job was to spy on activist groups such as The Invaders, Memphis’ black power group, and the Mobilizers, a group out of Orange Mound which, among other things, staged a shutdown of the University of Memphis, then Memphis State University, after Martin Luther King Jr. was killed on April 4, 1968.

And McCollough, who is seen tending to a bleeding Martin Luther King Jr. in the iconic photo of King’s assassination on the balcony of the Lorraine Motel, did similar spying for the MPD from 1968 to 1972.

“I wasn’t that naive to think that they (the police) weren’t going to send anyone to campus,” said Acey, who, as one of the first African-Americans admitted to Memphis State, established its Black Student Association.

“And they did send a black guy — Marrell McCollough. He wanted to meet with us, but we picked up on him ... How does a man come to campus and enroll in school in the middle of the semester?”

But, 50 years later, the MPD didn’t use a black man to infiltrate and track communications among activists. It used a white man with a common name.

It also sent plainclothes officers to events ranging from rallies, to church gatherings and even to “Black-Owned Food Truck Sunday.” It also shared the names of activists, and those associated with them, with some of Memphis’ biggest employers.

This week, a judge is hearing evidence to determine the extent to which MPD’s recent actions violated a 1978 consent decree with the local branch of the American Civil Liberties Union that forbid political surveillance.

But Acey and Taylor say that even as today’s activists challenge such surveillance in court, they should expect spying — and believe in their cause strongly enough to not be deterred by it.

“When we started down that path, we knew there was no coming back,” said Acey. “We knew the FBI, the CIA, everyone was going to be after us...

“When I went to file an FOIA request, (in 1969) one of the guys at the police department said, ‘Man, we got so many pictures of you and your wife, the Invaders and the Mobilizers, the NAACP.’ ”

Knowing that, Acey said he was wary of potential setups.

“I was out there one day (at Memphis State) studying by a tree, and a white girl came up and asked if she could have a seat. I said, yeah, because I was just studying. So we talked, and as we were talking, she pulled out a marijuana cigarette and lit it.

“I just walked away, because I knew it was a setup. So, for the new members (activists) now, if you don’t think they aren’t going to be involved in trying to get you, you’re mistaken.”

Both Acey, who ultimately became a professor of African Studies at U of M, and Taylor, who works as a consultant at the Memphis Convention and Visitors Bureau, said the surveillance transcended what McCollough — who told the MPD that the Invaders were no threat — did. It seeped into areas of their lives. “When I went to class (at Memphis State) the professor told me, ‘You might as well sit outside the door,’ ” Taylor said. “He pretty much said he was going to fail me.”

While Taylor believes he could have made a better life for himself in Memphis if he hadn’t been involved in the freedom struggle, he doesn’t regret those days.

“When people are committed to correcting a wrong, they don’t think about what’s going to happen in their personal life,” said Taylor. “All they think about is how they’re going to correct things for others.”

That’s the overwhelming thought that should guide the activists who are challenging police surveillance, Acey and Taylor said. They’re right. Because even if the ACLU wins its case against the city, chances are the city will find ways to monitor activists that don’t break the decree, but may bend it mightily.

And while we expect MPD to head off any potential violence that could emerge from activism, if it pursues order over justice, it will continue to ensnare people who are inconveniences and not threats.

That’s what Acey and Taylor learned more than 50 years ago, and that lesson has reemerged today.

So the best defense for those who believe in their cause, and who aren’t breaking any laws, is to gauge the risk and keep fighting for that cause.

Regardless of who is watching.