Cultivating
sult of a two-year feud over a “relationship issue” — the sort of dispute that builds up over time, before exploding. Such cases seem to be increasingly common, Moore said.
Moore said his office is working on a “conflict resolution strategy” to train community residents to be peacekeepers.
“We want people to know that if they see something brewing online, or in their community, to intervene before it escalates to the point of violence,” he said. “If they need help, they can reach out to our conflict mediation people who can help.”
Thomas sees the problems as even deeper.
He traces them to the loss of jobs when factories moved out of the central city — Milwaukee County lost 47 percent of its manufacturing jobs from 1978 to 2000. That was compounded by tighter restrictions on receiving welfare.
Thomas said receiving public assistance in his 20s helped him, and others, through some lean times. When eligibility rules were changed, he said, the safety net was cut for many families.
“That’s when things really started to go bad,” Thomas said. “When people don’t have nothing, they start to prey on each other.”
That led to violence and — often — prison.
Wisconsin has the highest black male incarceration rate in the nation and a 2013 University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee study found that was driven by 53206, with a majority of its men having spent time in jail or prison.
Thomas said people in his neighborhood are stuck: They are stressed out from being poor and exposed to violence. They drink or get high to deal with the stress. Most companies require drug tests, which prevent many from getting a job.
So they turn to crime, victimizing a new generation.
“You can’t win.”
Support closer to home
While social service and education communities are working the hardest to address the legacy of trauma, Thomas has found — and offered — more support closer to home.
Andre Lee Ellis, who moved into the neighborhood in November 2011, just days before Thomas’ nephew, Marvin, was killed, heard the gunshots that took Marvin’s life.
Ellis had just walked into his duplex on North 9th Street from the corner store when six gunshots rang out.
At first, he thought he may have been shot.
When Ellis went outside he saw Marvin Thomas laying in the middle of the street.
The killing inspired Ellis to acquire a vacant lot on the corner and create a community garden. Three years later, in 2014, he started the “We Got This” mentoring program aimed at black boys, ages 12 to 17.
June Thomas said at one time his nephew was in the streets “hustling,” but had turned his life over to Islam. He said his nephew was ambushed by an Erik Williams poses in a store with his son Erik “Doobie” Williams Jr. Erik Williams was shot and killed Aug. 12 on the corner of North 10th and West Burleigh streets while he was walking with Doobie. Doobie was critically injured after he was shot four times. His father died on the scene. armed gunman, while he was talking to someone on the street.
“He could have run in his house, but he had his auntie and other relatives in the house and he didn’t want them hurting his family, so he took off running down the street,” Thomas said. “They shot him in his leg first and then they shot him in the side.
“And then a head shot.”
When Thomas thought about revenge, it was Ellis — an actor-turnedactivist — who helped calm him down.
The two repeated Ellis’ mantra together:
“We got this.”
“We got this.”
“We got this.”
Four years later, no one has been charged in the killing.
Sometimes Thomas just goes to the community garden to sit on a bench and pray.
“I can come here if I’ve got a lot on my mind,” he said. “I can release a lot of stuff.”
Memorable mentor
June Thomas was a fixture during the summer mentorship program.
Among the mentors, Thomas stood out — strong arms, covered with tattoos. A loud, booming voice when he yelled.
“You know, if you hang out with me, I
don’t want no back talk or I’m sending you home,” he said to a group of boys one day early on. “Andre is nice, but I don’t play.”
As Thomas’ group cleaned up several blocks around the garden, he told the boys his expectations.
“You have to wash up before you come to the garden,” he said. “You just can’t roll out of bed and come here. I bet you some of you didn’t even brush your teeth this morning.”
Some of the kids laughed and teased one another.
“I hear some of your mouths,” he said later. “All that cursing is a turnoff for anybody. What girl is going to want to be around you with a mouth like that.”
Moore, the head of the city’s violence prevention office, said it’s important to focus on people like Thomas and Ellis — to focus on “healing the healers.”
“They are on the front lines every day loving the community and serving the community, but they are witnessing and losing people they care about,” Moore said.
Since the shooting of Erik Williams, Thomas has had trouble sleeping. He mostly just catnaps.
“When I saw all that blood it just reminded me of all the other stuff that I’ve seen in my lifetime that I try to forget,” he said. “But you can’t forget about it because when you close your eyes, sometimes you just see bodies, bodies, bodies.”
He is torn. His wife, Mechelle, wants them to move. But his store is there along with family and lifelong friends. Besides where would they move?
“I told her that it’s not just this area,” he said. “Our entire community is traumatized.”
James E. Causey’s reporting on this project was completed with the support of a USC Annenberg Center for Health Journalism grant.