Freedom Corner by Carlos Peterson, Howard Graves

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So much more than art – this sculpture/monument marks a place in history.

The Hill District was once a thriving community full of families and successful businesses. It was perhaps THE place to be if you were a jazz musician. Certainly everyone who was anyone in jazz music performed here. Then the politicians decided that they needed to build the Civic Arena in the western section of this community (the lower Hill) and in the process of doing that, they destroyed it all. As thousands of people lost their homes and businesses, the neighborhood was split apart. To this day it has been unable to regain everything that was lost.

After that debacle, the residents that were still there decided they would not allow something like that to happen to them again. When the city thought they were going to continue their plans for developing the rest of the neighborhood, the community banded together and drew the proverbial line in the sand at this point – the corner of Centre Ave and Crawford St. This is where they gathered to protest. This is where they posted the sign that said No development beyond this point! This is where the protest marches started from. This is what became known as Freedom Corner and is the point from which many, many protests and demonstrations have been launched over the years.

The history of this little corner of real estate used to be documented on it’s own website, but sadly that resource and the wealth of information it supplied disappeared. We made the mistake of expecting it to always be there so we only summarized a bit of the information here. Our bad. Hopefully someone will provide all of those wonderful details again, but for now this is what we know:

Created by two men from this community, there are essentially seven elements to the monument. We’re sad to report that the audio/visual educational display that was once on site is gone. We could not find the chronological history that was supposed to be on the eastern side of the monument, and although the monument is only 13 years old, the wording that was etched into the stone next to the Spiritual Form is so worn that it cannot be read any longer.



Working from the center outward on the circular monument, you first find the Stone of Origin. A piece of polished granite from Zimbabwe, this represents the origin and power of the African American heritage.



Outside the Stone of Origin is the Circle of Honor, comprising the names of 25 heroes of the civil rights movement that lost their lives trying to peacefully change our world. Their names are surrounded by the Prayer Circle.




Farther out is the Freedom Marchers’ Ring, with stones symbolizing nonviolent protest and unity, and the names of 70 local civil rights activists.





The outer ring is called The Negative Ring and it represents slavery and injustice, calling attention to the brutality that occurred during the civil rights era.



Spiritual Form is the figure on the Pages of History wall. The shape that appears to take flight is a symbol of hope, faith and the future of the movement for human rights Although we searched for it, we were unable to find information on the text that was inscribed on this wall. Taking the words that we were able to make out, we Googled it to see if we could find the excerpt and came up with: But there is something I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice.. We couldn’t tell if the inscription continued or not. This passage comes from Dr Martin Luther King’s I Have a Dream speech in 1963. This made us acutely aware of the fact that most of the nation is familiar with only a few lines from this speech. We think that it’s appropriate to reprint that speech here, because this is what this corner is all about, and we think we all could use a reminder of everything said by the reverend that day:

Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon of light to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of captivity. But one hundred years later, we must face the tragic fact that the Negro is still not free.
One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land.
So we have come here today to dramatize an appalling condition. In a sense we have come to our nation’s capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir.
This note was a promise that all men would be guaranteed the inalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring the sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad cheque which has come back marked insufficient funds. But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation.
So we have come to cash this cheque – a cheque that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to open the doors of opportunity to all of God’s children. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood.
It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment and to underestimate the determination of the Negro. This sweltering summer of the Negro’s legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. 1963 is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. There will be neither rest nor tranquillity in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights.
The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges. But there is something I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads to the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred.
We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force.
The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny and their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom.
We cannot walk alone. And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, When will you be satisfied? We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the Negro’s basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.
I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.
Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair. I say to you today, my friends, that in spite of the difficulties and frustrations of the moment, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.
I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: We hold these truths to be self–evident: that all men are created equal. I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at a table of brotherhood. I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a desert state, sweltering with the heat of injustice and oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice. I have a dream that my four children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. I have a dream today.
I have a dream that one day the state of Alabama, who governor’s lips are presently dripping with the words of interposition and nullification, will be transformed into a situation where little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls and walk together as sisters and brothers. I have a dream today. I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.
This is our hope. This is the faith with which I return to the South. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.
This will be the day when all of God’s children will be able to sing with a new meaning, My country, ’tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of pilgrim’s pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring. And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true. So let freedom ring from the great hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania! Let freedom ring from the snow–capped Rockies of Colorado! Let freedom ring from the curvaceous peaks of California! But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia! Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee! Let freedom ring from every hill and every molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring.
When we let freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God’s children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing the words of the old Negro spiritual, Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, we are free at last.

UPDATE July 2015
We received an email from the artist providing some background for this monument:

FYI,
The monument’s general theme needed to do more than just acknowledge Pittsburgh’s response to the call of freedom. I imagined it as a living landmark that would not only embody accomplishments of the local community, but be, a showcase publicizing hostilities endured during the Civil Rights movement nationwide. Besides being a stage for protest, it needed to be a hopeful place promoting the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King’s philosophy of non–violence. To reinforce that idea I wanted to include his celebrated I Have a Dream speech that he delivered during the Poor People March on Washington in 1963. However, legal issues, copyright etc. driven by the King Center in Atlanta prevented its use. Instead, after much coercion, they allowed the following excerpt:
But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds.
As a witness/participant to the riots of April 1968, keeping in mind that movement for civil rights would be an ongoing struggle for many, to maintain an atmosphere of peace during any future protest , I choose those wise words, thereby honoring Dr. King Jr. at the same time. Unfortunately, the engraver was given a preliminary layout of the passage, which didn’t include the word that as part of the permitted phrase. Budget restrictions prevented replacing the granite required for correction.
Peace

CFPTA

Update November 2015
Carlos Peterson sent us some photos of a tribute that someone had added to the monument. Tucked into the Spirit Form on the wall, nine roses were placed to honor the nine people killed in the Emanuel AME church massacre in Charleston, South Carolina. We don’t know who took the time to create these roses with photographs of the people murdered during bible study. No doubt a kind soul who was deeply touched by the tragedy.

photo by Carlos Peterson
Mr Peterson also included photos showing renovations on the monument. We were happy to see that the inscription is now restored.

photo by Carlos Peterson

photo by Carlos Peterson