Harry Belafonte Eulogizes Ossie
Davis
60 years is a long time to know somebody. 60 years is a long time
to be hugging somebody and there comes a time when the end begins to
evidence itself, that you realize that 60 years is really nothing
more than a blink of an eye. Ossie Davis and I have shared a
friendship for 60 years. And in our time together, we have seen many
peaks and valleys. And in recent time, we observed each other
carefully in how we did things. And when we were on a platform to
service some community or human need, we would notice in one another
that we were not walking today with the same energy and exuberance as
we were able to do when we first met. And when would you sit down, we
noticed that one another that -- we did so a little more slowly to
make sure we didn't invite the nagging ache in the lower back before
we were ready to experience it again. And on one such occasion just
very short few days ago, Ossie and I, as we have done quite often in
this time, began to reflect on not only what we have done but how
much time is left to do what we felt we had to do. And he said to me,
Harry, if it comes to be that I leave here before you, which is not
my intention, nor my expectation, but if that happens, be sure that
when you stand before those who are gathered that you don't, for
God's sake, put any words in my mouth. I told him that that was not
possible. In the 87 years he has lived, he has said just about
everything that could be said and did so eloquently. Some things are
not possible.
Words cannot be shaped to sufficiently soften the grief that many
of us are feeling of the loss of our beloved Raiford Chatman Davis.
His passing is no simple loss. The vastness of his being that he so
humbly contained, can only now be revealed. Only with passing do we
begin to truly sense how profound a force he was, and remains. All
people embraced him, as he embraced all people. But he held a special
place in the heart and soul of black folk and the poor. He was of
them. He came from them. And from birth until death, he was always in
the midst of their everything. Among many gifts mastered, he was
foremost a master of language. He understood the power of words and
used them to articulate our deepest hope for the fulfillment of our
oneness, with all humanity. Ossie Davis was born into a time of great
promise. And guided by his fervent dedication to justice. He wasted
no opportunity in defending the causes of the poor, the humiliated,
the oppressed. He embraced the greatest forces of our time -- Paul
Robeson, Dr. W.E.B. DuBois, Eleanor Roosevelt, A. Philip Randolph,
Fanny Lou Hamer, Ella Baker, Thurgood Marshall, Dr. Martin Luther
King, Jr., Nelson Mandela, and so many, many more. At a time of one
of our most anxious and conflicted moments when our America was torn
apart by seething issues of race, Ossie paused at the tomb of one of
our noblest warriors, and in the eulogy he delivered insured that
history would clearly understand the voice of black people, and what
Malcolm X meant to us and the cause of the African and the
African-American struggle for freedom. When many of our greatest
warriors were most reviled, he championed to them and our cause. With
history as witness, and his uncompromising allegiance to truth, Ossie
Davis stands validated and revered.
There is no union more blessed than the bond that exists between
Ossie and his compassionate and courageous mate, Ruby Dee. They are
inseparable, and though one could easily believe that only in death
would they be parted, even that stands to be proven. For their union
was more than physical, their thoughts were one. Their utterances
rapped in mutual approval, and their love made of a spirit that
embraced the universe and all of its living creatures. The harmony of
their song was filled with trust and respect. Together they imparted
to a world caught in bitter struggle against injustice, the belief
that solidarity welded to the deep commitment and belief in
non-violence was and still remains the most powerful weapon in human
kind's arsenal of choice. Their children and grandchildren are the
embodiment of what love can nurture, are their gift to our world, and
our future. How fortunate for us all that Ruby remains in our family
of fellow beings.
In 1917, if a black man had choice, Cogdell, Georgia, would not
be his ideal place of birth. But it was in many ways this birthplace
that shaped Ossie Davis's values and courage. He came from a family
of achievers, and their dignity and unwillingness to live and be
defined as subhuman constantly enraged the already spiteful and cruel
white community that surrounded them. The Ku Klux Klan's declaration
that they would shoot down his father like a dog caused Ossie in
later life to claim that incident as a most compelling reason for
exploring writing as a life profession. That exploration led him to
Shakespeare, and the theater, and indeed, in the Thespian world, he
found purpose. The performing arts became his rebellion to tyranny.
And as an actor, he interpreted our existence with the dignity rarely
allowed to the generations of black artists who struggled before him.
The small few who did achieve his ability and dignity, like Paul
Robeson, became Ossie Davis's guide to a life of social activism that
would forever fuel his passion to employee art as an instrument for
battling injustice.
Black America has always lived in a state of siege, and in our
400 years of history and of living with this imposition,
African-Americans have consistently fought for relief, and have
placed faith and the belief that the articles of governance framed by
the nation's white founding fathers would one day fully embrace its
citizens of color just as it has so generously embraced its white
population. But that has not been our lot. By creating a zone of
special privilege for but a small number of black citizens, there's
some who would give the impression that this privilege was the
dominant condition of the whole of the black population, and nothing
could be further from the truth. Ossie Davis, though touched by this
seduction of the privileges of the elite as a movie star and a
revered presence in our national culture, refused to distance himself
from the vast majority of his people, and diligently championed our
struggle for our rightful place at the table of America's experiment
with democracy. He despaired at the present state of our nation. He
detested the lies and deceit that found favor in the minds and hearts
of a vast number of our citizenry. Our nation's arrogant and mindless
imperial march toward global domination deeply concerned him. But he
reminded those who lost heart in the face of this turn in human
events, let us not linger on what is lost, but let us dwell on what
it is we must do. Let us do what we know how to do. Let us forge an
unbreakable solidarity and blow the dust off the blueprints of our
past victories. Let us reclaim our undistorted moral truth, and turn
all of this into a world of peace. Let us reclaim our earth and
nurture with the love all of her living offsprings. Let us be worthy
of why we are here, and reassert our national humanity. To do
anything less for our America would have history charge us with being
guilty of patriotic treason.
The richness of Ossie Davis's wit and humor complimented his
commanding intellect and compelling art. Once in my home at a not too
uncommon ritual of planning for our emerging desegregation battle in
Montgomery, Alabama, Dr. King, Stan Levinson, Bernard Lee, Ossie and
a few others were listening to Bayard Ruston, our most knowledgeable
on the application in Ghandian non-violent methodology. And Bayard
guided us through steps of what to do if our marches were stopped by
state troopers, what to do if we were tear-gassed or beaten, what not
to do in retaliation, what to do in the paddy wagon, what to do what
booked at the police station, what to say, when to resort to fasting
if incarcerated long enough and so on and so forth. We listened
carefully and asked questions, absorbing all we could, and went off
over the following weeks to organize our demonstrations. On the March
for the Selma, we planned for the tens of thousands of marchers to
arrive that night just outside of Montgomery at a holding point given
to us by the catholic church, a place called, St. Jude., the grounds
were quite spacious. On the morning before the arrivals, to insure
that morale and spirit of the marchers would not wane, we built a
stage made from 120 coffins donated by two local funeral parlors on
which dozens upon dozens of America's most well known artists would
perform. In my task to arrange all of this, I greated our chartered
flights at Montgomery airport from Los Angeles and New York, crammed
with our cultural luminaries. Stepping off the plane, behind Tony
Bennet and Leonard Bernstein and others was Ossie, and in the not too
distance background stood the governor of Alabama, George Wallace's
most feared racist law enforcement chief, Bo Connor and his
battle-ready GESTAPO. Ossie paused and gazed at the display of force,
and at that moment, all of the horrors that Bayard Ruston had
prepared us before danced before us. And just as he was envisioning
that we would either be shot or beaten or have mad dogs nipping at
our genitalia, or sensing more humanely just perhaps being sent to
prison forever, Ossie expressing his deepest concern, turned to me
and said, tell me, Harry, you don't snore, do you? just as a
reminder, this was the march in which Viola Liuzzo was murdered by
the Ku Klux Klan.
It is hard to fathom that we will no longer be able to call upon
his wisdom, his humor, his passion, his loyalty, his moral strength
to guide us in the choices we have yet to make in the battles that
are yet to be fought. But how fortunate we are, how fortunate we
were, to have had him as long as we did. How fortunate we are that he
has left us as did Paul, and W.E.B. and Malcolm, and Fanny Lou, and
Medgar, and Bobby, and Eleanor, for the blueprint of courage that
defined them, and is now left for us, and future generations to
absorb and implement by speaking truth to power. We can never say, we
do not know how, for there are none to guide us, or to inspire us,
and tell us how, or help us understand in unshakeable terms that our
struggle will succeed, and that justice will prevail, and that our
humanity will endure. Thank you, Ossie. Those whose lives you have
touched are forever inspired, and we are deeply, deeply
grateful.
Harry Belafonte
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