Camden, NJ the Forgotten American Scar

Howard Unruh died Monday Oct 19 at the age of 88 after living 60 years in Trenton psychiatric hospital

Rhetoric about America's new impetus towards change is rousing, but we've heard it all before. The nation is scarred with the broken souls of individuals, families, and entire communities who weren't on roll call when change and its inherent optimism were last doled out.

My father is from proud New England stock. Dad was born and raised in one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen -- Addison County, Vermont. Every summer, mom, dad, and us three boys would pile into the blue Impala to trek from our home in Collingswood, NJ to the beckoning pastoral hills of America's green, clean treasure.

Dad wasn't just driving back to his roots; he was escaping the "rat-race." We'd drive eight hours, pitch a tent, and then sit-one summer in three weeks of solid rain -- but we had gotten away. Dad would humorously lament to his aunt and his mother about his job in Camden working for Campbell's Soup. Campbell's was where he spent 38 years of his life until finally, in the early nineties, Campbell's Soup scaled back, virtually leaving Camden to fend for itself. Change never visited Camden. Its people and businesses ran from Camden's geographic prison if they were lucky enough to have change visit them.

Camden is the debt for all the broken promises and half-baked truths that have been fed to Americans for generations. Camden was the place we could think about tomorrow. Its people have no real power. Only 19% of them vote, and it is easier to just ignore its abject historically notable poverty. When industries like RCA, Campbell's, and the shipyards needed cheap labor, beaten down, Jim Crow blacks came to Camden's doorstep anxious to provide for their families. Then came 1960s white flight against the backdrop of decay and misery that is a city dying in the sun.

Admiral Wilson Blvd. cuts through Camden on its way into Philadelphia and beyond. It's lined with forgotten warehouses, gas station, and dreams. What flourishes there today are the bars, motels, strip joints, and sad scenery that economic depression creates. Just up the road is the SEARS building. Built in 1927 it stands alone, having been vacated almost forty years ago when SEARS relocated to tony Moorestown. The building is a behemoth in need of a massive reconstruction. It was spared this week from the wrecking ball, but as of last year, if you peeked inside, you could still see the obvious bones of a once vibrant downtown department store. Forty years of being forgotten, but the hangers and clothing racks are still there.

So what will change mean for Camden or any of the 300-plus of America's poorest, most dangerous, and forgotten communities? Barack Obama offers the hope for an America looking for healing. Can he organize the masses and corral the government to help people before they riot and revolt against the injustices so evident all around them? Revolt happened in Camden during a riot in 1971 and in America's first mass murder in 1949.

On September 6, 1949 Camden shook America out of its post-war nuclear stupor. Howard Unruh was an unemployed WWII Veteran who lived with his mother. He kept his medals in his bedroom and a firing range in his basement. He didn't get along well with his neighbors who teased the war hero relentlessly. Unruh began logging a diary with everything he thought his neighbors were saying or doing to him. At 3:00 in the morning on the 6th, he came home from a double feature at the movies to find a gate he had made for the front of his house had been stolen. At 8:00, he woke up, dressed in his brown tropical-worsted suit, white shirt and striped bow tie, then with his mother, he had a breakfast of fried eggs.

At 9:20, America's first mass murderer, left his house with his German Luger, a six inch knife, and six tear gas shells.

In only twelve minutes he would shoot and kill 13 people with 14 shots. One of his victims was a young blond boy inside a barbershop on a white carousel horse getting his hair cut. Unruh was pronounced insane and still resides inside Trenton Psychiatric Hospital. He's 87 years old. Shortly after his arrest, he was reported to have said to a psychiatrist, "I'm no psycho. I have a good mind. I'd have killed a thousand if I had bullets enough."

Bullets, destruction, and the rhetoric of fear have become too familiar to us under the Bush administration. Our next leader needs to help us repair our festering wounds. America can deal with her problems as long as our new president is offering hopeful answers instead of blind prayers and platitudes. Vermont might be nice, but when we grow up, we see there is still a forgotten Camden everywhere. The saddest things left behind in these communities are the desperate lives of millions of forgotten, poor Americans.

Oct 20, 2009 | permalink | comment | subscribe via rss