Local heroes
The Phoenix salutes seven individuals whose efforts make Rhode Island a better place
Peg Langhammer
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Peg Langhammer
One of the defining moments in Peg Langhammer's 20-year career as executive
director of the Sexual Assault & Trauma Resource Center of Rhode Island
came early in her tenure. It was January 1983, and the defense lawyer in a rape
trial had subpoenaed the center's records for a 15-year-old victim. "We knew
that we could not turn this record over," Langhammer recalls. "We had promised
victims confidentiality and that gave them the courage to come forward."
Lawyers for the center, then known as the Rhode Island Rape Crisis Center,
argued in court for a week and lost. The judge ordered the records handed over,
but the center refused, and Langhammer spent the night at the Adult
Correctional Institution for contempt. The prosecutor in the case eventually
convinced the victim to release the documents, and her assailant was found
guilty. Officials at the center, meanwhile, moved quickly to strengthen the
confidentiality of their record-keeping policies.
A native of Providence and Warwick who was once a Sister of Mercy, Langhammer,
51, cites the civil rights and anti-war movements of the '60s as the key to her
commitment. "It was life-altering to realize that we have a responsibility in
our world to work for what we believe in," she says. "Sexual assault victims
have already experienced a terror like little else in life. Don't we have a
responsibility to help them find healing and justice? And to make that as
accessible and effective as possible?"
Langhammer has done just that in a variety of ways at the center, which has a
dual focus of reducing the trauma for individual victims and the overall
incidence of sexual violence. Joining the organization after working at a soup
kitchen on Smith Hill and as a chaplain at the ACI, Langhammer, with the
center's staff and board, has maintained the 24-hour statewide help-line that
was created in 1973. She initiated a children's advocacy program that enables
the use in court of taped interviews of young victims, as well as school
prevention programs that reach more than 7000 kids a year.
She has worked on state and federal legislation concerning sexual assault and
violence against women and helped design counseling and referral services for
male and female inmates. The Sexual Assault & Trauma Resource Center is
currently launching an adult sexual assault response team similar to the
children's advocacy model; pursuing a victim-focused approach to sex offender
management; looking at the support needed by foster care providers; and
building community partnerships involving each of these issues.
"I see the progress that's been made, and it's been a short time in the
evolution of the issue," Langhammer says. "I like being a part of a system that
can respond and mobilize other players."
"But let's just face the reality," she adds, grimly. "We live in a society
that tolerates an epidemic of child sexual abuse. When one in four girls, and
one in six boys, will be sexually abused by the age of 18, we still have a long
way to go."
-- Johnette Rodriguez
Henry Shelton
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Henry Shelton
As a true social advocate, Henry Shelton doesn't have much interest in talking
about himself. Informed of his selection as a local hero, he immediately
changed the subject, citing the need for a state version of the refundable
earned income tax credit (EITC). The EITC, a special tax benefit for working
people with low or moderate incomes, would benefit 42,000 people in Rhode
Island, supplementing wages and sending a tangible message that work is more
desirable than welfare. A bill to support the EITC has been a non-starter in
the General Assembly for four years running -- perhaps because legislators are
unwilling to back the $16 million cost for a constituency that is seen as
having little clout -- but Shelton remains characteristically undaunted. As the
71-year-old activist says, "My concern is that we get the issues out."
A native of Central Falls, Shelton became a Catholic priest in the mid-'60s
and was assigned by the church to examine problems of poverty in South
Providence. Exposed to the concept of community organizing at a conference in
Chicago, he applied what he learned and was quickly impressed by the ability of
poor welfare recipients to become effective advocates for their own interest.
The resulting statewide movement, based at a Prairie Avenue storefront, helped
to bring about policy improvements, an unemployed workers' center, and the
Senior Citizens Action Group of Rhode Island.
Bureaucracies find new ways over time to counter the challenges that rise from
the grassroots. As Shelton says, "People in power try to find ways to stop
people from gaining power." These changes, coupled with the cynicism of the
'70s, diminished the momentum of progressive organizing. But Shelton persisted,
and after more than three decades of fighting for social change, his name has
long been synonymous with advocating for Rhode Island's have-nots.
There's no shortage of serious need: more than 42,000 children in the state
live in poverty, mostly in working families -- a figure that increased through
the good economic times of the late '90s. And from the '80s through '90s, Rhode
Island ranks high nationally in the growth of income inequality between the top
and bottom fifth of statewide households.
Working from his base as director of the George Wiley Center in Pawtucket,
Shelton steadily raises these kinds of unpleasant indicators, especially when
there's a move at the State House to increase tax breaks for the rich. The
center -- a statewide educational and advocacy organization -- is a driving
force behind the Campaign to Eliminate Childhood Poverty, the enhanced
availability of school breakfasts in Rhode Island, and a number of improvements
for consumers, such as a decision last month by Southern Union, a gas company,
to ease rules on shutoffs for customers.
It's no surprise that Shelton still sees community organizing as one of the
best ways to improve democracy in America, and he'd like nothing more than to
see an influx of new volunteers. "The most satisfying is something that doesn't
happen on just one issue," he says. "It's what happens when other people join
[together] to change social conditions."
-- Ian Donnis
Steve Maciel
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Steve Maciel
Back in 1987, I got a phone call from a guy named Stephen Maciel. His plan --
the eradication of world hunger -- involved enlisting bands to do one benefit
performance a year, with the proceeds going to relief agencies and food banks.
Steve wanted 52 such bands to sign on -- a benefit for each week of the year.
Since musicians and other performers are often willing to help with good
causes, it sounded doable, a lot of work, but doable. Still, Steve had much
bigger things in mind. He wanted to build an identical effort in every state in
the union. As the 1 of 52 Artist Hunger Network grew, he believed that national
acts would take notice and become participants. Pretty big plans, I thought.
As the effort gained momentum in Rhode Island, I wrote a 1988 article in the
NewPaper about Steve and his 1 of 52 idea and was able to perform at a
few of the events myself. But frankly, after seeing so many well-intentioned
campaigns fall apart through apathy, mismanagement, unwieldiness, and the
unpredictability of life, I fully expected Steve's 1 of 52 network to
eventually fall apart.
Well, it's 15 years later and the network is bigger than ever, having spread
to 13 other states (including Florida, California, Kentucky, and Washington)
and the District of Columbia. Steve Maciel has kept it alive, if not
single-handedly (folks like musician and activist Chuck Smith have been
intimately involved for years), then nearly so. He runs it out of his West
Greenwich home, and after observing Steve's commitment and tenacity for all
these years, I fully expect that the initiative will continue to expand.
Maciel was born in New Bedford, Massachusetts, and he came to Rhode Island
about 20 years ago to be with his wife, Nancy, a native of Scituate. He played
in a number of bands and worked a number of jobs (including as an ad rep at
WFNX). In the mid-'80s, Steve decided to go into business for himself,
publishing a guide to Rhode Island beaches, and this is when he developed the 1
of 52 concept. "I was inspired by what [the late singer/songwriter] Harry
Chapin had done, and there were a number of other music-based relief efforts
going back to George Harrison's Concert for Bangladesh to Band Aid and Live
Aid," he recalls. "I thought that what was missing from all of these one-shot
deals was continuity."
Overcoming this shortcoming, Maciel also hooked up with local philanthropist
Alan Shawn Feinstein, who, because of his long involvement with hunger relief
work, was able to offer invaluable advice and encouragement.
Last month, the 1 of 52 Artist Hunger Network released a critically
acclaimed CD, The Time is Now, with profits going (as with the group's
other efforts) to the Feinstein End Hunger Fund and the Rhode Island Community
Food Bank. There's a CD release event this Saturday, November 17, from 8 to 10
p.m., in conjunction with Common Fence Music, at the Common Fence Point
Community Hall, 933 Anthony Road, Portsmouth, featuring many of the artists on
the recording.
Because of his 15 years of dedicated commitment to building a creative
organization to feed hungry people, Steve Maciel is a true local hero. (You can
reach the 1 of 52 Artist Hunger Network/End Hunger Foundation at
(888)-HUNGER-0, or http://members.aol.com/hungerzero/.)
-- Rudy Cheeks
Mihalio "Misha" Djuric
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Mihalio "Misha" Djuric
His older sisters may not have detected a budding career when their
five-year-old brother copied their rock and roll moves, but Mihailo "Misha"
Djuric has never forgotten the sense of freedom he's always felt while dancing.
"I always loved dancing," the 44-year-old artistic director of Festival
Ballet Providence says emphatically, his consonants still heavily brushed with
the sounds of his native Belgrade. "Dance is so very close to us. In our
mothers' bellies, we listen to the rhythm of the heartbeat. You watch babies
and toddlers bouncing and moving to music -- it's instinctive."
Movement and music took the young Misha outside his shyness, and he was
recommended for dance classes after his nascent ability caught the eye of a gym
teacher. At 14, he started with folk dances, which included elements of ballet,
and Djuric went on to tour the world with a folk-dance company for six years,
beginning at 17. Wanting a back-up career, he returned to school and got a
degree in engineering while continuing to dance, this time at a local musical
theater, in shows ranging from Cats to Candide.
Djuric's long-held dream was to become a member of the National Opera and
Ballet Theatre in Yugoslavia, and he eventually achieved his goal, working as a
first soloist for four seasons. As the worsening Balkan war canceled the
National's 1991 season, he received a leave of absence to study jazz and modern
dance in the US. Djuric, who landed a post as artistic director for Ballet New
England, in New Hampshire, has returned for only two visits since then.
Festival Ballet, founded in 1978 by two former principal dancers with the
Canadian Royal Winnipeg Ballet, was overcoming the death of one founder and the
departure of the other when Djuric was chosen as the group's new leader in
1998. In the time since, he's staged six to eight productions a year and
created more than 30 original works. In the process, Festival Ballet has become
Rhode Island's largest dance company.
Djuric also oversaw the group's grand jeté earlier this year from a
tiny studio in North Providence to a modern, spacious location on Hope Street,
on Providence's East Side. The company changed its name to Festival Ballet
Providence and established the Center for Dance Education, which offers 80
hours of dance classes a week, for students ranging from 4-year-olds to adults,
in its three large studios.
While Djuric is obviously passionate about dance, he's just as enthusiastic
when it comes to offering dance opportunities for children and showing parents
how they can support their children's natural talents and interests. A dance
school not only creates choices for kids (possibly producing future dancers for
the company), it also builds an audience for dance among their families and
friends.
"Art can connect us to one another and open our minds," Djuric says. "More
and more people say, 'I don't understand dance.' It's just because they're not
exposed to it. If we don't help them understand it, everything will be just
sports. Can you imagine life with just sports?"
-- Johnette Rodriguez
Lois Wims and Bernard LaFayette Jr.
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Lois Wims and Bernard LaFayette Jr.
There were some who suspected that Governor Lincoln Almond's Select Commission
on Race and Police-Community Relations might be just a half-hearted effort to
confront the unfinished business of race in Rhode Island. Providence was
gripped by bitter division in the months after police Officer Cornel Young Jr.,
who was black, was shot and killed by two white officers who didn't recognize
him. But drawing on Bernard LaFayette Jr., an honored veteran of the civil
rights movement of the '60s, and Lois Wims, a Central Falls
cop-turned-educator, Almond assembled a potent effort for building reform.
"Even the critics in the very beginning are now on board with us," notes
LaFayette, director of the Center for Nonviolence and Peace Studies at the
University of Rhode Island, who volunteers as the commission's chairman. "We
listened to them very carefully to see if [their complaints] had any merit. We
used that as a resource." Adds Wims, the group's executive director, "I think
we've learned from the select commission that when you get people with a
passion around the table, change can really happen."
The commission got off to a promising start with Almond's selection of a
membership that included representatives of police unions, the activist group
Direct Action for Rights and Equality (DARE), and the clergy who led the push
for change after Young's death. Drawing on his experience as a colleague of
Martin Luther King Jr., LaFayette (who survived an attempt to kill him in
Alabama in 1963) insisted on a respectful process among the commissioners. Or
as he mildly puts it, "I just had a lot of experience dealing with diverse
situations."
While divisions between black and white Americans have been largely
overshadowed by the events of September 11, Wims and LaFayette have pursued
their work quietly and persistently, implementing the commission's far-ranging
recommendations. Some of the efforts, such as conferences with police and 18
public hearings around the state, filled a need for dialogue and education.
Others, such as the unveiling this week of a new firearms training system for
police agencies, represent the prospect of long-term benefits. The system is
meant to help officers to deescalate confrontations and prepare for a wide
range of potential use-of-force scenarios.
Wims, meanwhile, spent part of her summer meeting with every police chief in
the state, as well as officers and town officials, to discuss the group's
recommendations. Pleased by the chance to listen during a conference to George
Kelling, co-creator of the "Broken Windows" theory of policing, one officer
told her afterwards, "You can teach an old dog new tricks."
Although the commission is due to expire in June 2002, LaFayette, 61, and
Wims, 45, recognize that nothing less than ongoing efforts are required to
reduce racism and foster equality. The mistake of the civil rights movement, he
says, was to assume that the situation would resolve itself when laws such as
the Voting Rights Act were put into place. The work represented by the
commission's mission is "something we must continue to do," says LaFayette. "We
must institutionalize the change."
-- Ian Donnis
Mike Corso
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Mike Corso
For all the progress that Providence has made over the last 10 years, efforts
to remake Downcity as a vibrant residential neighborhood have unfolded at a
crawl. For those familiar with the situation, it became clear that a major
obstacle was the high cost of rehabilitating older buildings -- and the lack of
tools for moving the process forward. As Mike Corso puts it, "There's always
been that missing piece to make these projects attractive for developers."
As the in-house lawyer for Cornish Associates, one of the major downtown
property owners, Corso set about trying to deliver a much-needed change. He
took the lead in creating a historic tax credit, based on a model in Missouri,
which was passed into law earlier this year. And while the measure will aid
Cornish's downtown projects, it's also expected to make a big difference in
bringing fresh life to a number of other vacant or underused buildings.
The historic tax credit enables developers to recoup up to 30 percent of the
cost of redeveloping a historic property. By doing so, the measure creates an
incentive -- at a time when old mill buildings have faced a growing threat --
for helping to preserve the state's architectural heritage. "There are a number
of projects that say they are ready to go now because of the credit," says
Corso, including the Belvedere Hotel in Bristol and the Masonic Temple and
Foundry projects in Providence. "I think it's going to have an incredible
impact, and I think people are excited about it."
A native of Cranston, the 31-year-old lawyer became interested in commercial
real estate because of his family's ownership of an excavation company.
Although observers typically cite him as the person most responsible for moving
the historic tax credit forward, Corso gives credit to Dan Baudouin of the
Providence Foundation, Scott Wolf of Grow Smart Rhode Island, and the
leadership of the House and Senate. "This just couldn't have happened without
their enthusiasm," he says.
Corso, who has offered assistance to the organizers of the Monohasset Mill
Project in the Promenade District, says some similar projects are in the
offing, and he's optimistic about the outlook. While a New York developer's
plan to site a shopping mall at Eagle Square remains a source of consternation
for opponents, "I think the city is really making a push for preservation,"
Corso says. "Whether it's private or public, the preservation efforts are just
increasing."
The historic tax credit seemed like such a smart and sensible idea that it
became law without any real opposition. But without Mike Corso, the idea may
have never gotten off the ground.
-- Ian Donnis
Issue Date: November 16 - 22, 2001
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