"Let it burn": Osage Avenue, Philadelphia, May 13, 1985 |
By the time Lt. Frank Powell hurled a satchel bomb onto the roof of a three-story row house on Philadelphia’s Osage Avenue, the siege had gone on for nearly twelve hours. Powell was a member of the Philadelphia PD’s bomb squad, and like the “firemen” in Ray Bradbury’s dystopian novelette, he was performing a function assumed to be the opposite of his expected role: Rather than disposing of a military-grade bomb, he was using it as a weapon of mass destruction.
The building targeted by Powell was occupied by members of a
militant group called The MOVE. Aerial
photographs taken shortly before the May 13, 1985 assault displayed a weapons
bunker and large containers of oil on the roof of the row house. So it wasn’t
at all surprising that a few seconds after Powell heaved his bomb from the open
door of a State Police helicopter, a huge orange fireball erupted from the top
of the building. The uncontained fire consumed that house and sixty others,
leaving the entire neighborhood a smoldering ruin.
Philadelphia
was the only U.S. city to be bombed from the air during the Cold War, and
the perpetrator of that attack was not the Soviet Union, the Weather
Underground, or some other offshoot of the Soviet-inspired “Tricontinental Movement.” The perpetrators of this act of mass terrorism was the Philadelphia
PD – with the indispensable help of the FBI and the US military.
Democratic Representative Bob Brady, who at the time of the siege
was a deputy mayor, recalls seeing “All these military men giving advice”
during a planning session in Mayor Wilson Goode’s office. “I thought it would
be a good idea if we got a boom crane to knock that bunker off,” he recounted. “But
somebody above my pay scale decided against it.”
That official was City Managing Director Leo Brooks, a
retired brigadier general who approved of the plan and observed the bombing from the ninth floor
balcony of a nearby geriatric center. Police Commissioner Gregore Sambor, another
retired military officer who, according to the son of long-time Philadelphia Mayor Frank Rizzo, “ran
around in fatigues,” later testified that bombing the house “was selected as a
conservative and safe approach to what I perceived as a tactical necessity.” If
the bomb hadn’t been dropped from a helicopter, Sambor insisted, “the
perception of that action would have been quite different.”
The only mistake the police made in fire-bombing that
residence, apparently, was to get the “opticals” wrong. This decision was not a
matter of hasty, desperate improvisation, but rather of careful planning and
premeditation.
Prior to the May 13 assault, and without a formal request by
the city’s “civilian” government, Special
Agent Michael Macys of the Philadelphia FBI office provided the police bomb
squad with 30 blocks of C-4 explosive and several sticks of Tovex. The latter
is the same high-yield explosive provided to Timothy McVeigh by an
FBI asset in order to build
the Oklahoma City bomb almost exactly ten years later.
Reasonable people would be justified in the suspicion that
use of the satchel bomb was the preferred option, rather than a fallback plan.
At the time of the detonation, Ramona
Africa, a former paralegal who had become one of the most prominent and
forceful representatives of MOVE, was hiding in the basement along with several
children. They had sought refuge there after the police onslaught began, as Lt.
Powell and his Bomb Squad comrades used small charges to blow holes in the wall
in order to inject tear gas into the dwelling.
“Attention, MOVE – this is America,” declared Police
Commissioner Sambor by way of a loudspeaker as the attack began. “You have to
abide by the laws and rules of America.”
“We was in the cellar for a while … and tear gas started
coming in and we got the blankets,” recalled survivor
Michael Moses Ward (who at the time of the events was known as Birdie Africa).
“And we put them over our heads and started laying down.” That strategy proved
useless after the bomb went off, creating a fire that burned at an estimated
2,000 degrees Fahrenheit.
Police and fire department officials later claimed that the
original plan was to use tear gas and “deluge guns” – high-volume
fire hoses – to force the occupants out of the abandoned house pursuant to
an eviction order and several arrest warrants on a variety of misdemeanor
charges. Shortly after the first phase of the operation began, the sound of
gunfire caused firefighters to scatter.
Within the next ninety minutes, roughly 500 police officers
would fire more than 10,000 rounds of ammunition into the dwelling. Another fusillade was unleashed after the bomb
went off and people attempted to flee from the burning building.
“Come out, come out,” whispered WCAU-TV
photographer Peter Kane, horror-struck as he
watched the fire from a nearby house he had staked out the previous
evening. He wasn’t aware that a
“tactical” order had been issued to “let the bunker burn.” Nor was he aware
that police officers – some of them wielding machine guns, others armed with
silenced sniper rifles – had opened fire on MOVE members trying to escape the
flames.
Police officials claimed the use of overwhelming force was
necessary because the MOVE possessed a vast “arsenal” that included automatic
weapons. A search of the rubble turned up a total of four firearms, none of
which was a machine gun.
During a subsequent investigative hearing, Officer
William Stewart reported that he heard “automatic weapons fire” as MOVE
members tried to escape the holocaust. When asked who was pulling the triggers,
Stewart replied: “Police officers. All the stakeout officers were running into
the alley. They all had Uzi machine guns.” This account was corroborated by Officer
James D’Ulisse of the Philadelphia PD, and John Vaccarelli and Joseph Murray of
the City Fire Department.
Eleven people were killed as a result of the bombing. Six of
them – including five children -- were cut down by gunfire as they fled the
burning building.
During a press conference held the evening of the fire,
Mayor Goode said he was “fully accountable” for what had happened that day,
pointedly exonerating his subordinates. Ten months later a special
investigative commission described the bombing as “unconscionable.”
Mayor Goode was elected to a second term. None of the police
officials involved in the atrocity was charged with a crime or subjected to
administrative discipline. Four years after the bombing, FBI
Special Agent Macys was suspended for thirty days – not for the
unauthorized and illegal transfer of explosives, but for his “evaluation of the
FBI’s liability” in the matter, according to contemporaneous press accounts.
The only person who endured punishment of any kind in this
affair was Ramona Africa, who was convicted of “riot” and “conspiracy.” She spent
seven years in prison convalescing from the burns she endured while rescuing
Birdie Africa, the only child to survive the firebombing. Following her
release, Ramona received a $500,000 civil judgment from the city – after
every officer and policy-maker involved in the bombing had been granted “qualified
immunity” against personal liability.
Rather than treating the incident as a tragic mistake or an
act of criminal negligence, the FBI apparently used it to beta-test tactics
later employed against “extremists” of different varieties.
During the August 1992 siege at Ruby Ridge, Idaho, eyewitnesses and a TV camera
crew saw an FBI helicopter take off carrying a large incendiary bomb that
would have annihilated the Weaver family’s pathetic dwelling and cremated the
troublesome people residing therein.
The April 19, 1993 assault by the FBI and Delta Force against the Branch
Davidians involved tactics quite similar to
those that had been employed against the MOVE, and ended with paramilitary
operators directing
automatic weapons fire into the flames to deter, or kill, anyone seeking to
escape.
As was the case at Ruby Ridge and Waco, the group targeted
on Osage Avenue consisted of socially marginal people who espoused peculiar
religious views. Unlike the Weavers or the Branch Davidians, the MOVE lived in
the middle of an urban neighborhood and had managed to alienate everyone living
nearby.
Founded by a grade school dropout named Vincent Leapheart
who renamed himself John Africa, the MOVE combined a primitivist ideology akin
to that of Earth First! with the public relations sensibility of the Westboro
Baptist Church. Calling the group a cult is descriptive, rather than
pejorative: Its members severed ties with the outside world, changed their
surnames to “Africa,” and subscribed to a totalistic worldview in which John
Africa was seen as a Christ figure. The MOVE’s doctrinaire aversion to hygiene and
its insistence on sharing living quarters with animals turned the home they
occupied into a reeking, decaying sty.
Seen as “revolutionaries” and “terrorists” by the city
government, the MOVE experienced countless run-ins with the police. One of them
led to a violent arrest in which a newborn baby was killed. By 1976, the group’s
commune in Powelton Village was under 24-hour police surveillance. An eviction order was issued in August 1978,
leading to a shoot-out during which a police officer James Ramp was killed.
“Did the MOVE members
shoot Ramp?” comments
former Philadelphia City Councilman Angel Ortiz. “This has never been fully
answered. The MOVE compound was razed without proper forensic analysis.” Nine
MOVE adherents were convicted of murder in the killing of James Ramp. None was specifically
identified as the shooter, and it’s not clear how nine people shared
responsibility for a single fatal gunshot.
For the next seven years, after the MOVE migrated to Osage
Avenue and took control of a large abandoned house, the group continued to
accumulate citations and provoke complaints from their neighbors, most of whom
were middle-class blacks.
Neighbors who could tolerate the olfactory onslaught from
the group’s living area found it more difficult to endure incessant – and frequently
profane --harangues broadcast by the MOVE via loudspeaker, many of which
demanded the release of their imprisoned comrades.
On May 12, 1985 – Mother’s Day – people living near the
targeted building were ordered to evacuate as police made preparations for the
pre-dawn attack. By the end of the following day, hundreds of local residents
were homeless as a result of the bombing.
If the purpose of the exercise had been simply to evict the
MOVE, the police could simply have cut off electricity and water and waited for
the group to leave.
“Why don’t they just back up and relax?” asked State Senator
Hardy Williams as he watched the siege unfold. “Nobody’s going anywhere.”
An approach of that kind would have solved the problem, but
not inflicted punishment on a group seen by the police as a tribal enemy, and
resented by the municipal government for defying its authority.
The
Philadelphia PD, which
may be the most violence-prone municipal police agency in the country,
wanted a measure of revenge for the death of Officer Ramp (a message inscribed
on a locker room chalkboard and left there for years read “MOVE 1, PPD 0”). That
sentiment was fortified when Mumia Abu-Jamal, a radical activist sentenced to
death for the murder of
Philadelphia PD officer Daniel Faulkner, became a prominent admirer of the
group.
Leo Brooks, the impenitent official who devised the aerial assault plan, blithely described the wholesale annihilation of an entire city block as the kind of things that happen “when citizens failed to abide by the law and respond to the police authority.” The compelling need to assert that “authority” supposedly justified the criminal actions of police officials and the indiscriminate destruction of the homes and property of people who had nothing to do with the group.
"They won't be calling the Police Commissioner `Motherf****r' anymore," gloated one Philadelphia cop after the neighborhood had been burned down.
Philadelphia radio host Michael Coard contends, plausibly, that the police bombing “never would have happened in the Northeast or in South Philly, even if the Hell’s Angels had kidnapped then-President Ronald Reagan. And everybody knows it…. G**dammit, even Osama’s house and neighborhood in Abbottabad weren’t firebombed.”
Thirty years later, the
neighborhood bears the ineffaceable scars inscribed through this exercise
in state terrorism.
As it happened, I was in Philadelphia on the morning of May
13, 1985 as part of a college performing group. By the time we departed for our
next engagement, the assault had already begun, and we heard news of a “shoot-out”
shortly before our arrival in Washington, D.C.
As we retired that evening, the
local television news carried accounts of the firebombing – which commanded
less attention than another debacle that took place on the same day, the
introduction of the “New Coke” in an event at Lafayette Park.
The Coca-Cola Company’s ill-advised decision to alter the
formula of its toxic soft drink caused a paroxysm of national outrage on the
part of a public that reacted to the Philadelphia fire-bombing with stolid
indifference. Those who
tampered with that product faced accountability. Jobs were lost,
reputations were ruined, and corporate policies were changed. Nothing of the
sort befell those responsible for a military assault on an urban neighborhood
that left nearly a dozen people dead and hundreds of people homeless.
Coca-Cola’s decision to change its recipe was national news,
as was the company’s chastened decision to rescind that change. The fire-bombing
of West Philly received perfunctory notice in the State-aligned media, and was
quickly forgotten by a materially sated population.
As Commissioner Sambor said in his overture to the holocaust on
Osage Avenue, “This is America” – or, in any case, what we’ve allowed it to
become.
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12 comments:
Off topic, Will...are you not posting your stuff to Lew Rockwell, anymore? It's been a couple of weeks since you had anything go up over there. Not that it matters anymore, since I just switched my bookmark to here, I'm just curious.
I'm still a contributor over at LRC; Lew is in charge of selecting the articles published in the body of the page. It's been quite a while since I posted anything to the blog section of the site, but that's due to a technical issue I haven't had time to fix.
hello, Will -
ran across the link below at antiwar.com. seems things have been as they are now for a long time, albeit on different fronts than the Power family faced.
http://original.antiwar.com/Max_McNabb/2015/05/07/the-power-brothers-wwi-draft-resisters/
William,
Don't forget that the parallels between the two incidents do not end there.
Former Federal Prosecutor Henry Ruth Jr. served on the 'cover-up' commission that 'investigated' MOVE and then also went on to serve on the commission which 'investigated' WACO.
I guess someone thought he did such a good job covering up the first set of murders that he was well qualified to do the same thing for the massacre of Branch Davidians.
Excellent post by the way.
Carol
From Been Down That Road:
Thank you, Will! I've been waiting for some good commentary on the Philadelphia incident for 30 years. Finally, here it is.
I was 25 when this atrocity went down; young, idealistic Republican, still thinking that The Government was My Government. How foolish I was until I read the trickle of information in the Rocky Mountain News. It was then that I lost my political virginity.
It was the first eye-opening event that eventually led to my education. As I read the news stories, I kept thinking, "What the hell?! They BOMBED those people! What the hell is going on with my government?"
Some 25 years later, I finally read Burning Down the House and realized that the MOVE folks were not exactly wholesome and innocent, but still, What the hell? Drop a bomb on people you could have just arrested? Drop a bomb on a neighborhood of stick-built row houses, all guaranteed to burn to the ground if you bomb just one of them? What the hell?
Now, after Ruby Ridge, Waco, Oklahoma City and New York, I understand what the hell it was about. The so-called "government," not mine anymore, had to start somewhere with it's end game of total take over, and this seems to be that opening maneuver.
From some of the investigations by the authors of Burning Down the House, it seems that it all started with a CIA-style psy-op to get "John Africa" started. He was befriended and closely associated with a shadowy white professor from a local college who provided him with firearms and frequent guidance, then disappeared from the scene at about the time the psychos in power began plotting a military attack. Makes you think of Jim Jones and his ill-fated cult.
As the story unfolds, per the book, it seems like the whole thing was scripted by an unseen hand. When the MOVE people provoked the city powers, they often made remarks along the lines of, "you'll just have to burn us out." or some such; and it was like the police took that as what they would, indeed, do, whether they needed to or not. Like: "Oh, okay. We'll have to just burn you out."
The city had already cut the utilities, but the MOVE people had prepared. Plus, they had started hauling gasoline to the rooftop, too, as if they, together with the "law enforcement" were preparing for the same conflagration.
At any rate, I wasn't wrong to think back in 1985 that this was just the first "What the hell?" event of many more to come. How sad that I was right.
It's good to know you're still posting to lewrockwell.com; still this is, I think, infinitely better. I've wanted to talk to you about more than one of your articles in the past, and Lew's site just doesn't have the set-up for that. Being able to comment on your blog here is a treat for me.
So, the one thing I've always wanted to say to you is that I have read your articles for years, now. Since the first time my dad ever pointed one of them out to me. You, Tom Woods, and Radley Balko are my go-to guys for news.
Keep up the good work, and I'll keep reading.
I really appreciate your kindness, and I'm honored by the company in which you have put me. Thank you so much.
I have searched and searched, to no avail, for the cartoon that USA Today ran at the time. As I recall, it showed Mayor Wilson Goode in a biplane, over West Philly, hanging over the side with a bomb in his hand (WW I style). I would very much appreciate it if anyone could send me a copy of that cartoon and the story that accompanied it.
If you can, please send to henrymorgan@tampabay.rr.com
Some wag at the time noted the Philly PD had changed its motto to "Tora, Tora, Tora."
And Police Commissioner Rizzo once bragged "The Philadelphia Police Department could invade Cuba ... and win!"
With a mind set such as that is it any wonder an entire block was gutted?
Remember in recent history when the the government was moving small armies of part-time employees to GPS, every front door in the US? Why? GPS and maps have made it so a 16 year old high school kid can get a pizza delivered to pretty much every address in the US. But why GPS every front door. They did not GPS the house at the curb but the front door. Almost like having the exact information for a Hellfire dart launching off a unmanned aircraft.
Will, great piece, as usual. No mistaking the location of your photo as the old "studio" under the stadium. I miss that old place.
jk
Great article William. I didn't remember this incident. Nice to have the re-cap. Good to read the revisionist version of forgotten and / or under-reported atrocities from the past. - David Hathaway
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