[Music]

Voiceover: MOVE: Untangling the Tragedy is a production of Temple University Klein College’s Logan Center for Urban Investigative Reporting and The Philadelphia Inquirer.

Voiceover: Hey! Rowhome Productions.

Allison Beck: Content warning, this series contains descriptions of abuse, trauma, and foul language.

Yvonne Latty: It’s so quiet, isn’t it? Where are we, Linn?

Linn Washington: This is where the bombing took place on May 13th, 1985.

Linn Washington, narrating: It’s a beautiful summer day and I’m standing in front of 6221 Osage Avenue in West Philadelphia, the site of the former MOVE headquarters. I’m with my producers. It’s hard for me to be here…I’m not going to lie.

Linn: Every time I come on this block, I-I feel like I’m walking through the valley of the shadow of death. I mean, it just—it’s just disconcerting. It’s a little unsettling to be here.

Linn, narrating: forty years ago Philadelphia police dropped a bomb on this rowhome. It killed 11 people, five of them children. The bomb ignited a blaze that took out the whole block, and parts of two others. It left 250 people homeless.

I was one of the reporters that covered it and like many of my colleagues that day, I never really recovered from what I saw and experienced. It was the first and only time in US history where a police force dropped a bomb on their own citizens. so many have forgotten, but I can’t forget. It’s with me every day of my life. I remember…

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I remember MOVE.

[Music]

Linn, narrating: I’m Linn Washington. I’m an investigative reporter and a journalism professor at Temple University’s Klein College of Media and Communication. I’ve covered MOVE for 50 years.

You might think you’ve heard this story, and maybe you have in bits and pieces. but it’s a whole different thing when you hear the whole story.

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This is MOVE: Untangling the Tragedy, a podcast about double standards of justice, a so-called out of control cult, police brutality, and the inequity that underlined it all.

This is Episode One: The Beginning.

MOVE Children: Our religion is non-compromising to perception of insane speculation. Long live John Africa!

Linn, narrating: The MOVE tragedy didn’t start in 1985. MOVE itself surfaced in 1972. but we’re going to go all the way back to 1931, to the birth of MOVE’s founder, who would become known as John Africa.

[Music]

Vincent “Benny” Leaphart was born in the West Philadelphia neighborhood of Mantua, one of 10 children. As a youngster, he struggled in school, said math equations gave him a headache and even classes for slow learners didn’t help. He was illiterate.

Benny was drafted and then served in the Korean War, where he saw combat. He witnessed the the death of innocent Korean people and saw the destruction of plant and animal life, and it deeply affected him. He was honorably discharged in 1954, then he traveled around a lot and started self-educating himself on global politics.

He was impacted by the teachings of Martin Luther King, Malcolm X, and Gandhi. But he strongly believed you fight back, not turn the other cheek. He resented organized religion and said it was used to maintain slavery.

Benny resurfaced in Philly in the late 1960s.

Let me take you back in time to the Philly of the late sixties and early seventies.

[Music]

Linn, narrating: Back when I first met MOVE, 50 years ago. To be blunt, Philly was a mess. The schools sucked, housing was bad, Black people were denied jobs, gangs were running wild, and the powers that be wanted it to be that way.

More egregious, police brutality was rampant. Philly cops liked to beat first and ask questions later.

Hell, i remember one day when the cops were picking up light-skinned brothers with afros to pin a rape and murder on. When I heard that news I went straight to the barbershop to have my afro cut. I wasn’t chancing a run-in with the Philadelphia police.

Frank Reynolds: Philadelphia, the city of Brotherly Love, where the Constitution of the United States was drafted in 1787, today was charged by the federal government with violating that constitution by permitting police brutality on a scale that shocks the conscience.

[Music]

Linn, narrating: When Benny arrived to Philadelphia, he wanted to do something about the chaos and violence all around him. And he didn’t just want to just liberate Black people, he wanted to liberate all life.

He gave himself a new name, John Africa, in honor of the continent where he said life was made. And he wrote a set of guidelines to live by — well he dictated them to a friend.

His manifesto focused on Black nationalism, animal rights, communal living, self-reliance, and a back-to-nature lifestyle, which included composting, eating raw foods and lots of exercise.

And he formed an organization to follow his new manifesto: MOVE. all-caps. It wasn’t an acronym, more a declaration .

At first MOVE consisted of mostly his friends and his own family. Within a few years it grew to more than 50 people.

Mike Africa Jr.: Some people were sick and they wanted to be strong.

Linn, narrating: That’s Mike Africa Jr. He was born into MOVE in the 1970s and he’s John Africa’s great nephew.

Mike: You saw these women out there doing 50 push ups. You know, that were-might have been drug addicts a year earlier. People had mental issues. John Africa’d talk to them about some of their issues and cleared them up.

Linn, narrating: MOVE gave them purpose and hope.

Janine Africa: I joined MOVE organization because I found this to be the only place to have the answers to all of my problems.

Delbert Africa: I never thought that revolution consisted of revolutionizing myself to get away from the things that caused me to want to revolt. Saying, it was only until I joined MOVE that I learned what true revolution was all about. It’s about hard work, about activity, about the absence of all those fashions and facades and labels.

Linn, narrating: Mike Africa Jr. says he was like a miracle worker to his followers.

Mike: I think the appeal was he made their life better, and they appreciated it. And they were willing to–at that point, they were like cult followers. You know what I mean? Like a cult following? They–whatever you say I’ll do because I’m so appreciative. What do you need me to do?

Linn, narrating: They rejected adherence to established laws despite demanding all legal protections.

The group rejected all modern technology. John Africa’s mother had died from pneumonia. He blamed the air conditioner in the hotel she cleaned for messing up her body chemistry.

Mike: John Africa had a thing he would say.

Linn: And what was that?

Mike: He said one of the issues with society is the materialism, and the technology that they used to produce and create this materialism pollutes the air and so, “Well, how does that pollute the air?” Well, he said if-he said combs are made of plastic. And the smoke that come from the smokestacks, from the industries that produce plastic is toxic and you can’t breathe it. You can’t–that’s why I don’t comb my hair.

Linn, narrating: MOVE members were mostly young men and women so there were many children, and there were many rules for these children. They could not go to school. The children ate with their hands. They were never given a fork or a spoon to eat with.

Mike: We lived like it was the 1800’s, even though it was the 1900’s. We chopped wood to burn in a-in a wood stove to heat the house.

Linn, narrating: It was extreme back-to-nature living.

Mike: The children didn’t wear clothes. We, you know, we were outside in the wintertime. I mean, I remember being a kid in the snow with no clothes. We swam at Cobbs Creek Park. We swam in the creek in February.

Linn, narrating: From what I saw, John Africa was often not around. He spent time in upstate New York, fleeing a federal warrant. and when he was in Philadelphia, he was often in jail, usually for disorderly conduct and contempt of court. He was never front and center making speeches and engaging the media. He left that to his followers. But MOVE member Delbert Africa said John Africa’s whereabouts were not important, just his message.

Delbert: Teachings of John Africa are inherent in his disciples. His works are shown in the healthiness of our children, the sturdiness of our building, the way we live, all right?

[Music]

Linn, narrating: Back then I was a rookie reporter at the Philadelphia Tribune. I remember when MOVE came to my office for an interview, I had to open windows and position them downwind. In fact, I think I got the assignment covering MOVE because no one else wanted to deal with the smell. They ate lots of garlic and raw onions. It made it hard to be around them, and I was the new guy, so…

But most Philadelphians really paid them no mind. Frankly, to most folks they were just a harmless bunch of weirdos at a time when weird was the norm.

Walt Palmer: They had no prominence and no standing in the community, they’re not integrated into the community. They’re just guys who look strange and got dreadlocks.

Linn, narrating: That’s Walt Palmer. He’s a legendary Philly Black rights activist. He’s 90 now, but still teaching at the University of Pennsylvania.

Linn: Well, early on did MOVE–you know, they cast themselves as a revolutionary organization, did they deal with other revolutionary or progressive groups?

Walt: No, it was-it was their ideology. I mean, it was only one ideology. It was theirs.

Linn: What did you feel of them? Do you think–were they deluded or, you know, were they true believers?

Walt: No, they were true believers.

Linn, narrating: And their unusual lifestyle had an effect on anyone who was in their presence.

Walt: They put major compost, I mean-I mean giant compost in their yard, right? For growth. It brought rats, big rats, right? That were, I mean, bold because it was all that food that they was feeding them. They-they didn’t want any gas or electric. There’s a lot of exercise. You see them, both the men and the women, you know, pumping iron and jogging, they would jog two or three o’clock, four o’clock in the morning for miles, going all over the city, right, and coming back. I mean, they had a definite and defined lifestyle.

Linn, narrating: And they loved to protest.

[Music]

Walt: They would show up at different places. They’d go to Black churches and they would disrupt the service and the church.

Linn, narrating: MOVE equated animals in cages to slaves sold in an auction. They protested at pet stores, zoos and circuses.

It was actually at the Philadelphia Zoo that MOVE first drew the ire of police. They were screaming profanities at families out for a weekend visit. As MOVE dropped f-bomb after f-bomb, the cops shouted back profanity to tell MOVE to stop using profanity.

The Philadelphia mayor at the time was Frank Rizzo, a high school dropout, former police commissioner who was endorsed by a leader of the Ku Klux Klan. And Rizzo bragged his police force was so tough they could invade Cuba, and win.

Frank Rizzo: The police are not going to take any nonsense. You act properly, we act properly. You get tough, we get tougher. And that’s the answer. I know of no other way to do it, and it works.

Linn, narrating: Many say Rizzo thrived on racism and brutality.

Rizzo: Well, the guy that number one kills police should be strung up the next morning. After he receives that fair trial, by the way.

Linn, narrating: While serving as police commissioner, he infamously ordered a raid on a Black Panther Party headquarters. Rizzo had police strip them naked on the street and search them. He then allowed newspaper photographers to take pictures of the naked Panthers. His justification? A police officer had been murdered. But it was later proven that none of the Panthers were involved

Rizzo: They’re a little angry. They were humiliated. We took their pants off them to search them, you know. So, only brave when they outnumber people.

Linn, narrating: Mayor Rizzo’s racism extended beyond backing brutal cops. Racism reeked in the Rizzo administration in health care, education policies and housing.

Ron Nessen: This demonstration by Black schoolchildren last November was one of the few which Philadelphia policemen have put down with brute force since Frank Rizzo became police commissioner.

Linn, narrating: That was in 1967 and it shows Rizzo’s mindset. What did those kids want? Better school conditions and to be taught Black history. The response? 400 police officers attacked them.

Tony Lewis: You had Frank Rizzo, who campaigned on the–I mean, he actually campaigned saying that there would be no Black new housing. He said no houses will be put in any white neighborhood that they didn’t want.

Linn, narrating: Tony Lewis was the first African-American president of the Pennsylvania Housing Code and Financing Association. He says Mayor Rizzo was explicit in his intentions to make life hard for Black Philadelphians.

Linn: There is a perception that during this era, the–essentially the principal manifestation of racism was police brutality, but what I’m hearing from you is that there was that manifestation in housing policy and practice too?

Tony: Oh yeah, absolutely. There was no–very few places, I should say, where there was any integrated public housing.

[Music]

Linn, narrating: While all of this is going on, MOVE intensifies its protests. They go after anyone they see as a supporter of “the system.” The American Veterinarian Association, buddhists, The Philadelphia School Board, Jane Fonda, Gulf Oil, and NAACP head Roy Wilkins. Each protest followed the same script: a bullhorn, a stream of profanities followed by police scuffles and arrests.

Walt: They started disrupting places and people started using the police. The police would interject, come in, and the police would start beating on them.

Linn, narrating: This is activist Walt Palmer again.

Walt: They took a hell of a lot of beatings in the early days.

Linn, narrating: As the years wore on, instead of changing their tactics, MOVE dug in.

Walt: And their confrontations with the police grew more and more prominent, right? And I said, “You guys, I mean, you are taking these beat–ass beatings an awful lot, right? I don’t know how long you’re going to sustain it.” And that really was the beginning of their history and their interaction in the city. And what happened is because they started to get more press and notoriety, they just elevated it, kept it going.

[Music]

Linn, narrating: Many Philadelphians were sick of the police brutality and begin to sympathize with MOVE. MOVE even had a weekly column in The Philadelphia Tribune called “On the MOVE.”

Walt: Now they set themselves down, you know, a predominately white community in the Drexel-Powelton area. Largely white liberals, white progressives.

Linn, narrating: This Powelton Village home would be the site of MOVE’S first major confrontation with police. That’s coming up.

[Music, midroll]

Voiceover: At Klein College of Media and Communication, at Temple University, we believe the best way to learn it is to live it. From day one, students get real world experience in sports media, journalism, communication, production, PR, advertising, and more. Guided by industry pros and fueled by Philly’s energy, Klein prepares you to lead in media and communication. Learn more at klein.temple.edu

[Music]

Linn, narrating: In 1974, MOVE set up its headquarters in the Powelton Village neighborhood of West Philadelphia. Just down the street from my apartment, actually.

They acquired a beat-up 3½-story Victorian twin home at 309 North 33rd Street and the adjoining twin. They supported themselves by operating a neighborhood car wash, shoveling snow off the sidewalks and acting as handymen for elderly neighbors. Powelton Village is a little quirky, with leafy streets and old Victorian twin homes. It had leftist and Quaker roots too. It was a haven for anti-war protestors and the counterculture movement.

I used to sit on the roof of my apartment and drink wine. I often saw John Africa walking with dogs. We knew him as “Vince the Dogman.” He’d always speak to me, but he walked with mangy dogs, so I would cross the street when I saw him. He often told me, “Brother you don’t have to worry about the dogs.” I thought, “Have you looked in the mirror? I’m more afraid of you than those crazy ass dogs!”

Pam Africa: I had never seen dreadlocks before in my life.

Linn, narrating: Pam Africa moved to Powelton Village in 1975 and often saw the members outside their home. Her name then was Janet Knighton.

PAM: I didn’t like them from what I read in the paper. I read, number one, that they was filthy, they was dirty, their children was unschooled and, you know, a whole lot of, you know, things. And then I’m seeing, also on the news, where they was talking about letting the animals out their cages and letting them run through the street, and I’m thinking, “These people is really crazy.”

Linn, narrating: But then Pam saw MOVE members protesting at a pet store where she had bought fish from.

PAM: They was talking about how these fish and things, all that life that was inside of those cages. I never seen it as something that was messed up and how people would buy fish and all, in the tank and all, you know, and how the fish, you know, should have been in the ocean where they’d lived at, and you know, we was free in Africa until they came and snatched us and put us in cages. And that’s what happened with, you know, with the fish.

Linn, narrating: She became more curious about the group, and would eventually change her name to Pam Africa, and become MOVE’s Minister of Confrontation.

[Music]

While MOVE was gaining the respect of some Philadelphians, they were also starting to really piss off some of their neighbors. The collection of stray animals, rats were running wild and into neighbors homes. They were composting dog waste in the yard.

It stank. Swarms of bugs were flying in the street. And the Quaker, counterculture, anti-war, peace-loving, mostly white neighbors grew frustrated. In 1976, one such neighbor called the police, citing a disturbance. 10 police cars rushed to the MOVE home.

Phil Africa: The cops wouldn’t listen to anything that was being said and was coming at us with the sticks.

Linn, narrating: MOVE member Phil Africa says his wife Janine Africa jumped in front of him to protect him from the cops. She was holding their newborn baby, Life Africa.

Phil: They just, literally you know like, sticks-you know, sticks swinging and everything, flung her out the way, you know, and start coming right across her to get to me.

Linn, narrating: Phil says the police had no regard for the child she was holding.

Phil: I said when she was thrown to the ground with the baby in her the arms, you could see blood running out the baby’s nose.

Linn, narrating: He says as police pushed Janine, she fell on the baby, crushing his skull.

Phil: The killing of my son was totally unnecessary, you know? You just can’t turn your head to it. I have to–I have to keep fighting. I have to keep applying the principles that’s taught me by my founder, my teacher John Africa, you know? So this will not happen to anybody else’s children.

Linn, narrating: But the Philadelphia Police denied responsibility for Life Africa’s death. In fact, they argued that Life Africa had never even lived. Because in the eyes of the state, he didn’t.

MOVE delivered their babies at home. They didn’t register for birth certificates. MOVE could not prove the murder of a baby the police didn’t believe existed. So they had another plan to get justice…

James Link: Oh you’re recording now?

Linn: Oh yes.

Linn, narrating: Back in the seventies, James Link worked the late shift at The Philadelphia Inquirer.

James: I had been hired as a staff photographer in ’73, but I was promoted to weekend photo editor, which meant I laid out the format and the photos for the Sunday paper.

Linn, narrating: James had covered MOVE’s protests and had gotten to know some of the members. And in 1976 he got a call from Delbert Africa.

James: And that was not strange because Delbert called me over the past year or so. But this particular night, he says to me, he said, “You heard about the cops killing our baby, Life Africa?” I said, “Yeah, I’ve read something about it.” You know, I was very vague with him. He says, “Well we’re having a meeting this evening with some city officials off the record. And I’d like for you to come and observe, and you won’t be wasting your time.”

Linn, narrating: I gotta admit, I got that call too. But I had plans with my kids that night. I was in my twenties, I wasn’t spending my offtime with MOVE. But when I heard what went down that night, i vowed to never ignore another call from MOVE.

So when James and an Inquirer reporter got to the MOVE home in Powelton Village that evening, three city officials were waiting outside. No one knew what was going to happen.

James: A lady member came up and escorted us into the building from that Pearl Street side. And you go through the doors and there’s about a six-inch high board across the walkway. There’s no lights in there, by the way.

Linn, narrating: They were taken down a hallway with a candle lighting the way.

James: Then you made a left. You went down the steps. The second step was missing. If you didn’t know it or were not warned, you would have fallen down the steps. So we made it down gently to the basement level.

Linn, narrating: MOVE had set up wood picnic tables in the basement with food.

James: With about 4 to 6 little MOVE children sitting there, with food displayed in front of them. There was a glass rectangular Pyrex-type dish with chicken legs, drumsticks, like you would buy in the supermarket in a family pack. There was a cabbage, onions and carrots and some other raw vegetables there.

Linn, narrating: That was the kids’ table. The other table was for the adult guests.

James: They had prepared fried chicken, steamed rice, and spinach. And there was a big round watermelon sitting there. So we all gathered around and sat down, you know, light conversation. By the time I had two bites out of a chicken leg that was cooked, Delbert tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Come with me.”

Linn, narrating: James grabbed his camera bag and followed Delbert. The rest of the guests remained eating at the picnic table.

James: When I made it back up to the first floor, went to the left a little and then to the right, into a room that was dark. We had window light coming in there and on the left hand side of the wall, which would have been, I guess, the south side of the building, there’s a Marigold grapefruit cardboard crate. And in that is what appeared to be a dead Negro baby.

Linn, narrating: His umbilical cord was still attached. The body appeared to have been recently buried, then exhumed.

James: But it had straight black hair and it was a baby. I couldn’t tell if it was a boy or a girl. It was in a curled position, but it was a dead body and it was stinking like a dead body.

Linn, narrating: Delbert said they’d dug up the baby in hope that these guests would help them file murder charges. As James looked at the baby, the city officials joined him and surrounded the box.

James: And, I backed up to the far corner to compose my shot and started shooting. And the flash lit up the room. I took about 8 or 10 frames. Flash lit up the room well enough where they could see the baby.

Linn, narrating: The city officials and the Inquirer reporter that joined James could not believe what they were seeing.

James: You say the one word, they were aghast. You know, it took their breath away before they smelled that decomp, because they weren’t expecting that. And then as the flares lit up the room, their eyes got bigger and they were ready to leave. When they got a good look at it, they were done. They were ready to go.

Linn, narrating: When the story and photograph ran in The Inquirer, police and the district attorney’s office wanted to know where the body was. MOVE had already reburied the baby.

James: Police department said, “Well, where’s the body? No-no corpus delicti. No, no body, no case.”

Linn, narrating: MOVE did not want to turn over the body because they didn’t trust the medical examiner’s office. MOVE also said surrendering the body to the system violated their religion.

James: So that was their way of showing that they had a dead body, with us.

Linn, narrating: For James, this was America of the 1970s. Cops are mad and they get to do whatever they want to you.

James: So when-when you Black in America, in a major city, and you’re disrupting and causing trouble, you don’t get the rights that you’re supposed to get according to the Constitution and the Bill of Rights. You don’t get them rights. You get whatever rights the cop standing next to you with a gun and a-and a baton give you. And that’s very little rights, and a lot of whipping.

Linn, narrating: This was on James’s mind as pressure mounted for him to give the police a statement about the MOVE baby. As sympathetic as he was to MOVE and the dead baby, James didn’t want to get on the wrong side of the Philadelphia Police. As the only Black photographer on the paper, and one of only a few Black staffers in The Inquirer newsroom, he didn’t feel very supported. The Inquirer sent him to two lawyers.

James: So one of the law firms says we should testify as to what we saw. The other law firm says that under freedom of the press, we have no reason why we should not give them what they want. However, if we don’t want to testify and say anything about the incident, they could hold us for contempt of court.

Linn, narrating: Which also meant jail time. James wasn’t about to be locked up on MOVE’s behalf, so he hired his own lawyer who wrote a letter to The Inquirer and the District Attorney.

James: James Link Jr. is not a medical examiner, a forensic doctor, or doctor of any kind. Mr. Link has no medical experience where he could testify to if he saw a body, whether it was alive or dead. He does not have the medical experience to testify in this matter in that way.

Linn, narrating: It worked for James. But no charges were ever filed against the officers involved in the alleged death of baby Life. And the police were that much more fed up with MOVE.

[Music]

James: So like the race war was on, on that corner. So they were the most radicals at the time. And Rizzo was not having that, as mayor, he was not going to have that. He had formerly been the police commissioner. He was hard on all Black demonstrators of any kind.

Linn, narrating: The police charged the six MOVE members who fought with police during this confrontation. And the battle lines were drawn…

Frank Rizzo: I can only tell you that these are violent people.

Delbert Africa: Leave us alone, or drag the murdered bodies of Black men, women and children out of this headquarters. He’s forcing the confrontation.

LINN: In 1978 that bloody confrontation between MOVE and the Philadelphia Police would come. That’s the next episode of MOVE: Untangling the Tragedy.

[gunshots, alarm]

Walt Palmer: Next thing I heard was this shot over top of my shoulder, my left shoulder.

[continuing gunshots, alarm]

Unidentified: Get back, get back.

Roy Weissinger: Four minutes of gunfire in West Philadelphia early this morning and it was over. One Philadelphia policeman killed, at least 15 people hurt.

[Music]

Allison Beck: MOVE: Untangling the Tragedy is a production of Temple University Klein College’s Logan Center for Urban Investigative Reporting and The Philadelphia Inquirer.

Linn Washington is our Producer and Host.

Our Executive Producer, Field Producer, and Script Writer is Yvonne Latty, the Director of The Logan Center.

The Podcast Editor is Audrey Quinn.

Our Inquirer Editor is Daniel Rubin, the Senior Editor for Investigations.

Sound design, scoring, mixing, and mastering by Rowhome Productions.

Rowhome’s Creative Director is Alex Lewis. John Myers is Rowhome’s Executive Producer.

Our Associate Producer, Tape Assembly, and Lead Researcher is Natalie Reitz.

Original Music is by Royce Hearn.

Our Data Editor is Colin Evans.

Our Podcast Art is by Layla Jenkins.

Production Assistants are Allison Beck and Nicole Barbarito.

We used the MOVE archives of Temple University Libraries’ Special Collections Research Center.

Thanks to Josue Hurtado and John Pettit of the Center for their support facilitating our endless requests.

This episode used sound from WCAU, KYW, WPVI, and ABC-NEWS.

Funding support comes from The Jonathan Logan Family Foundation, The Lenfest Institute For Journalism, Temple University Humanities and Arts Award, Temple’s Klein College Of Media and Communication, and The Philadelphia Inquirer.

Special thanks to the Dean of Klein College, David Boardman.

We are also grateful to Matt Curtius of Temple’s Tyler School Of Art And Design and Jack Klotz of Klein College’s Media and Production Department and Audio & Live Entertainment Major.

Go to inquirer.com to check out archival stories on MOVE and more. Subscribe, download, review and share.

I’m Allison Beck. Thanks for listening.

Voiceover: Rowhome Productions.

Voiceover: At The Inquirer, we work every day to report the stories that matter most to Philadelphia. From breaking news to in-depth investigations, our journalists are committed to keeping you informed. But we rely on reader support to do this important work. Donate to The Inquirer’s high-impact journalism fund today, to help us continue covering the issues that shape our city.