With Charity and Caring for All
On a chilly Saturday night in February 2016, Rich Smith and his son, Tyler, 17, stopped at the Seelye Ford and Kia dealership on Stadium Drive in Kalamazoo, Michigan. They were standing in the parking lot checking out a blue pickup truck when a man walked up and opened fire, killing them. The shooter, an Uber driver named Jason Dalton, didn’t know the Smiths. He was on a rampage that ultimately left four more people dead and two critically wounded.
The story made national news. The 76,000 residents of Kalamazoo were shocked, just as the residents of other cities and towns across America have been when a mass murderer has struck close to home. Folks here also understood that recovering from an episode of gun violence carries its own dangers, given the political passions surrounding the gun control debate. Kalamazoo was determined to respond in the most inclusive, healing way possible. Within days, money poured in for victims and their families. Nonprofits formed to organize the support efforts. With names such as Kalamazoo Strong and Foreverstrong, they embodied residents’ focus on keeping the tragedy from defining or dividing their city.
“We need to persevere with one another through the gaping hole where our sense of safety once resided,” wrote Kalamazoo College women’s volleyball coach Jeanne Hess in a blog post. “We need to be there for one another when waves of grief overcome us because the national disease of gun violence has invaded Kalamazoo. And we need to persevere just because this event is so terribly sad.”
Just four months after the shootings, Kalamazoo was tested again. A driver high on methamphetamine and pain
pills plowed into a group of nine bicyclists, part of the local Chain Gang Bicycle Club, killing five and injuring the rest in one of the deadliest vehicle-bike crashes in U.S. history. The charities opened their arms a little wider. Kalamazoo Strong paid the medical and funeral bills for those victims. Foreverstrong, led by Rich Smith’s widow, Laurie Smith, started planning a memorial to all the bikers and the shooting victims: a park and soccer center (Tyler loved soccer) that would be a bright spot long after that dark time.
“We want it all to be about how we go forward,” says Laurie.
Keeping an eye on the future is something of a Kalamazoo specialty. In this college town, a charity called Kalamazoo Promise has handed out $110 million to high school graduates since 2006—all of it donated anonymously. Here’s the promise: If you go to public school in this city and want to go to college, it’s paid for. The only strings are that you attend one of Michigan’s state-supported colleges or universities and get good grades.
“When I tell people about the Kalamazoo Promise, they think it’s fake,” says Emily Olivares, 24, who attended Western Michigan University and graduated without a penny of debt— as did her sister. “The Promise probably saved me 500 hours of overtime,” jokes their father, Joseph Olivares, who works in a factory.
“I’ve been to nice places,” Emily says, “but there’s nothing like Kalamazoo.”
She really means it. When Emily graduated with her degree in travel and tourism, she received two job offers: one in K-zoo, as the locals fondly call it, and one in China. Guess which one she chose?
“I chose here,” says Emily. “I want to be here to help build the next generation of my family.”