East St. Louis: A Decade Remembered, The Loss of a Prime Sponsorship

By Lee A. Drake

East St. Louis, Illinois had, and still has, a very colorful history. Since the 1970's there has been a steady decline of this city, in the shadow of the Gateway Arch. After returning from Viet Nam at the end of 1970, the author found himself working at City Hall in East St. Louis, a place where he had been raised. This coincided with the election of the first Black mayor for the city. He had friends and relatives in all parts of the city. He knew the streets, alleys, and playgrounds from hanging out in those places during his childhood. During his employment in the city's government, there was a loss of control of millions of dollars of federal funds. The actions of certain people in the city's government contributed to this loss for control. The loss of its Prime Sponsorship designation made it impossible for the city to provide jobs and job training for many people depending on the funds to live. This account describes some of the actions during that period that led to the loss of its Prime Sponsorship. It will allow the reader some background as to why East St. Louis is a mere shell of its former glory.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Oct 23, 2019
• ISBN: 9781684563906

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East St. Louis

A Decade Remembered, The Loss of a Prime Sponsorship

Lee A. Drake

Copyright © 2019 Lee A. Drake

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING, INC.

New York, NY

First originally published by Page Publishing, Inc. 2019

ISBN 978-1-68456-389-0 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-68456-390-6 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

The Fire

Strike the Match

Chapter 1976

Chapter 1977

City Government Ablaze

Fanning the Fire

Investigating the Fire

Chapter 1978

The Hearing

Diatribe

The End of CETA

Introduction

Igraduated from East St. Louis Senior High School in 1967. I don’t remember having any notion of going to college or what I wanted to do for a living. I did, however, want a job and went looking for one. I knew East St. Louis. I had friends in all parts of the town. I lived in Pollock Town. I hung out around Twenty-Ninth and Bond and Virginia Park. I had friends on the south side of town and the Lincoln Park area. I knew this city as a young man and participated in a lot of the vices associated with the city at that time. Even though under aged, I drank regularly at Pudgy’s Lounge or the Fox Hole and The Gravel Pit in Golden Garden. I’d hang out outside the Manhattan where Chuck Berry was performing or watch Ike and Tina Turner and Bobby Bland through the doors of clubs down on Fifteenth and Broadway. Who does not remember the infamous Paddock Lounge?

My perceptions of my city were shaped by these experiences. I knew of most of the key players in the decade reflected in this story because I grew up with them or was acquainted with their families only by name in most instances. It wasn’t until I came back from Viet Nam in 1971 that I took any interest in the shape or direction of this city. I didn’t care much before then. I was just wrapped up in my own interests.

That first job after high school was with the Illinois Central Railroad. I was a messenger. I was still living with my parents. One fateful evening, as I returned home from work, there was this letter waiting for me, on my mom’s dining room table. I opened it and read:

Greetings,

From the President of the United States. You are hereby ordered to report for induction into the Armed Forces of the United States of America.

I had just been drafted. I reported in January 1968. I served three years in the Army and was discharged in December 1970. Upon my return from my tour of duty in Viet Nam, for the entire year of 1970, and because of the privilege afforded veterans, I was able to return to my job with the Illinois Central Railroad as a Clerk. Even though I worked third shift, I enjoyed my job, and saw lots of opportunities for advancement.

James E. Williams had just been elected the first Black mayor of East St. Louis. James Williams lived in my precinct and across the street from my elementary school, Crispus Attucks. My mom was socially/politically active in Pollock Town, where we lived, and everyone in the community knew James Williams, and were proud to have him as our new mayor. Hopes were high for the city, since the tenure of Alvin G. Fields had come to an end. Blacks were now in charge of the city, and the talk was infectious. My mom encouraged me to go down to city hall and apply for a job. As what? I didn’t know, but I did. I had only been back from Viet Nam for a few months. To my surprise, I was hired. I was hired as a City Planner with a federally funded program that had begun in East St. Louis. It was called the Cooperative Area Manpower Planning System (CA.M.P.S.). I was assigned to an office in city hall and later was transferred to the C.A.M.P.S. office in the Arcade Building. When C.A.M.P.S. was replaced by CETA (Comprehensive Employment and Training Act), we were moved to the Murphy Building, in the next block up on Collinsville Avenue. I still held the title of City Planner.

It was during this new beginning that my political awareness of East St. Louis began. All those folks I had grown up with or was acquainted with now took on a different significance. Lots of them were working for the city also. I had been away for three years and had lost touch with most of them. In this new light, I began to give them more thought and scrutiny. Now back from Viet Nam, I began to actually see my city and its players for the first time.

Everything I am to impart here is because of perceptions and experiences I had with those people. These are my personal experiences, from my side of the fence. Was I correct in all my perceptions? Maybe, maybe not. But these are my experiences and how I perceived things. This is my story of East St. Louis and its government during the 1970s.

The Fire

It all began to finally come apart after the fire. The fiscal officer then left rather suddenly. That was when I rose to a higher position in the administration. I had always been a part of the administrative staff as a planner, but now by simply asking, I had the position of fiscal officer. My friend, at the time, I felt, had aspirations of being a part of the upper echelons of the administrative staff, and I didn’t. I hadn’t initially thought about being in such a position. Bennie didn’t quite understand that. There developed a sense of competition between the two of us, but it was more on Bennie than me. Bennie never saw that my actions were fueled by a desire to do the right thing. Bennie’s actions seem to be geared toward helping the administration with its agenda. I didn’t know why, but Bennie resented my relationship with the Department of Labor’s representative, Owen Washington. But with all things considered, I guess I did indeed know why. The year was 1977 and Bill Mason was the Mayor of East St. Louis.

The Murphy Building, 234 Collinsville Avenue, the site of the fire, housed the Public Service and Community Action Programs for the City of East St. Louis. These were programs that were funded with federal money. The end came when the city lost control of the Comprehensive Employment and Training Act (CETA) Program to St. Clair County, and Ronald Reagan was to be elected President. It was foreseen, at least in the black community of East St. Louis, that the ’80s would see blacks losing a lot of the benefits they had gained over the past twenty years. Moderate Republicans felt that the war on poverty’s efforts just gave money to blacks and disadvantaged persons and didn’t provide any tangible training to allow them to help themselves. Ironically, the powers-that-be, private industry, and trade unions wouldn’t allow the government to let these programs provide relevant job training. It was not an accident that most of the CETA jobs were in the public service fields. This reflected, racially, the nature of things in the 1970’s in the United States.

The fire started in the Urban League office on the second floor of the Murphy Building. It was September 20, 1977. The Murphy Building was a five story, U-shaped office building on Collinsville Avenue. There was an underground garage and rusting metal fire escapes located at the rear of the building. The Urban League was housed in the suite located in the southeast corner of the second floor. This would put it basically at the rear of the building. CETA offices occupied the remainder of the second floor, as well as parts of the third floor. The NAACP Office and the law office of a black attorney were also located on those two floors. The fiscal office was adjacent to the suite where the fire occurred. At the time the fire started, the Urban League office was deserted. It was lunchtime, but you would think that at least one person would have been there to answer the phones. The fire was ruled suspicious, and everyone was ordered to comply with the investigation to follow.

I had been in Chicago for a few days attending a training workshop. On the day I was to return, I called the office to arrange for someone to meet me at the airport. There was no answer at the