social good, Tributes

Leading the March of Progress – Marcel Walker

In 2016, the ToonSeum sponsored an exhibition at the August Wilson Center of African American Culture. “From MLK to March: Civil Rights in Comics and Cartoons” was co-curated by art historian Sylvia Rhor Samaniego and political cartoonist Rob Rogers. The exhibition traced key moments in the civil rights movement from the 1955 Montgomery Bus Boycott through the present day in comics and cartoons.

The show was bookended by two keys pieces: a 1957 comic book “Martin Luther King and the Montgomery Story,” which Rep. Lewis often credited as inspiring his initial activism, and March, the award-winning graphic novel trilogy about Rep. Lewis’s life. March was also inspired by the earlier comic book. March was the brainchild of Andrew Aydin, Rep. Lewis’s digital and policy advisor, co-author, friend and comics enthusiast, and was illustrated by Nate Powell.

As part of the programming for the exhibition, the March team – Rep. Lewis, Aydin and Powell – came to Pittsburgh to tell their story on October 8, 2016. The visit was the result of a collaborative effort between the ToonSeum and Sweetwater Center for the Arts with support from The Pittsburgh Foundation and Carlow University. As part of our ongoing efforts to honor the legacy of Rep. Lewis, the ToonSeum would like to share two remembrances from that day by ToonSeum president Marcel Walker and curator Sylvia Rhor.

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Photo by Wayne Wise

 

A few years ago, I was asked to write a review of the final installment of MARCH, the three-part graphic-novel autobiography of Representative John Lewis. It was a daunting task, attempting to summarize my feelings about such a work. The scope of events it covered was staggering, as the authors held our hands during a walk through the self-narrated history of Mr. Lewis’s life journey.  At times that journey was harrowing, as MARCH led us from his humble beginnings in segregated rural Alabama to his call to action in the Civil Rights Movement of the 1960s, through sit-ins at lunch counters in the deep South that led to repeated arrests, and violent opposition to his leadership of peaceful marches which catalyzed a nation to action.

Throughout it all, Mr. Lewis’ calm and assured voice guided readers through a vital chapter of American history, from the perspective of someone who’d been immersed in it at the time and was cognizant of that fact both then and now. For my review, all I could do was surrender to the enormity of his singular epic story and encourage readers to do the same. Personally, however, I still had questions about the intervals between the big moments, the quiet time that doesn’t necessarily make for satisfying drama, but which is more indicative of a tangible life lived by an actual human being.

Now, imagine my surprise when just over a month later I was asked, as a new board member of the ToonSeum, to help chaperone Rep. Lewis and the book’s co-creators during a visit to Pittsburgh for the opening of the exhibit From MLK to MARCH! Sure enough, In October of 2016, I found myself greeting Mr. Lewis, co-writer Andrew Aydin, and artist Nate Powell in the lobby of a Downtown Pittsburgh hotel before leading them to the August Wilson Center for the event. Unexpectedly, they recognized me, not as a ToonSeum rep but instead for the positive book review I’d written. (That’s my own brush with being on the right side of history!) After exchanging pleasantries, we walked to the venue and they were led to the green room where we’d pass a couple of hours before Mr. Lewis would address an audience of admirers.

Three things happened during this time that I’ll never forget. The first is that I got to witness Mr. Lewis’s pleasant bearing in person. For the most part, he was quiet and unassuming. As tired as he must have been from long hours spent promoting his book, he was sharp and spry, and he made time to speak to everyone in a very personable way. When made aware of the food and beverages brought in for the guests, he strongly encouraged everyone present to break bread in communion with him. He even likened it to his days as an activist and how “everyone needs to eat!”

The second thing was that he spoke not just about the book he was there to promote, his MARCH autobiography, but of the shorter comic book that had long ago catalyzed him to civic action. Martin Luther King and the Montgomery Story prompted a teenaged Lewis to participate in the civil rights movement, and his reverence for it was clear. He’d been inspired by a comic book, he said to a room full of comic-book enthusiasts and creators, bringing home the importance of our passion.

The third thing is that I got to ask Mr. Lewis about the quiet time spent between the big events of his life; he candidly confirmed that the majority of his work over the years wasn’t as exciting or interesting as what most admirers lauded him for, but it was fundamentally just as important. It was time spent wrangling with politicians and lawyers, taking meetings and working out strategies, determining the boundaries of the law before resolving to push against them. There had been a lot of time spent waiting, which had been hard. But he filled that time building relationships, and it was easy to see why he’d been so successful.

Being in that room with John Lewis for those couple of hours was like striding outside of normal time and space. At one point while he spoke, I was vividly aware of how directly adjacent we were to histories the rest of the world takes for granted. John Lewis was to Martin Luther King, Jr. as Alexander Hamilton was to George Washington. Without exaggeration, he was that important to our way of life today and, in ways, far more immediately relevant.

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l-r: artist Nate Powell, Rep. Lewis, writer Andrew Aydin. Photo by Marcel Walker


Shortly afterwards, Mr. Lewis addressed a full house who’d gathered to seek out his words of wisdom in the days immediately preceding a foreboding presidential election. Despite the traces of a somber collective mood, he provided the inspiration that everyone present needed to hear. And, in his short trip from the hotel lobby to the green room to that stage, he helped me see how history isn’t composed of untouchable idols, but rather it’s comprised of human beings who get tired and need food and fellowship to summon the strength to motivate the next generation of activists and change makers.

I remain humbled that he spent a little quiet time to connect me so directly with history. Thank you, Representative John Lewis for leading the march of progress with poise and dignity. You reminded us what’s essential for making the country better, and I’m hopeful about that future. Maybe one day I’ll inspire someone, through the comics I create, to get into some of the good trouble you valued so highly.

Your own illustrious story has definitely done so, and all Americans are better for it.

For another recollection of Rep. Lewis, please read the companion tribute by curator Sylvia Rhor.

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