Minneapolis is renaming a portion of Plymouth Avenue to honor one of its greatest visionary community organizers, Harry “Spike” Moss, Freedom Fighter. The ceremony takes place at 11am Tuesday,July 16, with a program at U of M’s University Reseach Outreach and Engagement Center (UROC) and with the street sign unveiling in front of the Fourth Precinct Police Station, 1925 Plymouth Avenue, which was the site of The Way Opportunities Unlimited, Inc.
Insight News will present special commemorative editions featuring the life and work of Spike Moss in its July 25th and July 29th editions. Community residents who want to share congratulations, stories and photos of Spike Moss for the special editions can email comments to mcfarlanemedia@gmail.com. On the Cover: Moss was one of several luminaries civil and human rights champions celebrated in a Comcast community gathering illuminated their stellar service to community and humanity.
Following are excerpts from Insight News features on, with or about Harry “Spike” Moss. ( Full stories available in the www.insightnews.com archive online.
Militant?
Jan 20, 2003 Spike Moss interview
Al McFarlane: Often you’ve been referred to in the white media as a militant activist…Why do they call you “militant”. Why don’t they call you “Spike Moss, Black liberation fighter?”
Spike Moss: The majority community has never wanted our people to know about our struggles for freedom. That it’s a just cause. That it’s about justice and equality. They try to paint the picture that most of our leadership just like to make trouble or are racists themselves.
AM: Yet John Walker, who sided, allegedly, with the Taliban in Afghanistan was constantly referred to as the American Taliban fighter,. in a tone that was respectful and almost mythically romantic, celebratory. I’m trying to see where in my memory the same kind of respect is accorded to Black people, in our struggles for human rights and liberation. Why is our society able to almost glorify this guy, and create sympathy for the Timothy McVeighs, and Jeffrey Dahmers, of America, but won’t accord us the dignity of acknowledging our struggle or even our humanity?
SM: There are two questions and two answers. On the one hand, we have to understand that majority of the White community knows there is a large population of White men and women in this country who want to overthrow this country.
AM: For what purpose?
SM: To take it back. They feel someone has taken their country.
AM: They don’t believe in the idea of democracy?.
SM: No, their idea of democracy is democracy for Whites only. They have all sorts of names. Nazis, Skinheads, the Aryan race. They’re called Minute Men… Militia. They are hell-bent on taking this country back. Our government doesn’t want to do anything to irritate them or cause more people to join or send them money [for fear of a] second Civil War,. Hardly a month that goes by that, somewhere in this country, those groups don’t burn a Black church, or torch some Black home, or kill some Black person. It’s just not on the news.
On the flip side the strategy is to keep us oppressed, with the person oppressing us, making it look like the oppression doesn’t exist.
They make it look like Black people are just making trouble. They’re activists, militants, trouble makers. They make it look like Black people are racists. They don’t want it to appear that in the “land of the free” people in this country are simply not free.
Every problem that happens to us stems from the fact that we don’t have freedom and don’t have the rights [which] come with citizenship, with being born in this country.
The only time we are treated like we’re part of this country is when this country is at war and we’re on the front line.
Or when it’s time to pay the taxes. We pay our share, but are not allowed our equal opportunities to share the true benefit of being an American.
The suburbs are created for and by White Americans, not you. They live successfully.. You can’t count how many of them are millionaires. When it comes to businesses, you can’t even count. When it comes to proper education, you can’t even count, because we’re nowhere in that scenario worth mentioning.
Still, they ostracize Blacks, because they don’t recognize our humanity. They began the country assigning our value as that of three-fifths a human, for their voting power purposes. A Supreme Court justice wrote that the Negro has no rights the White man must respect.
AM: What then is our responsibility? Regardless of what racists say, do or think? What do we have to do?
SM: That’s where we went wrong in the 60s. We let them take control of our movement.
I switched, myself, from 1966 to ‘67, I became part of the Black Power Movement.
A great migration of our own
Mar 1, 2013
A Speech By Lea Hargett, President, Minnesota Black Chamber of Commerce
Insight News publication of Lea Hargett’s Black History Month speech delivered at the West Broadway Business and Area Coalition Black History Month Breakfast, 2013
I bring you the greetings and well-wishes of the board of directors and members of the Minnesota Black Chamber of Commerce who stand with you in your quest to bring businesses together to make sure the West Broadway Corridor is thriving and filled with sound and successful businesses.
When I was asked to speak today, I was told that the event was a breakfast in honor of Black History Month. And of course that got me thinking. I flashed back to so many moments in our Black history. It was difficult to narrow down one single period or topic. My thoughts raced to the Middle Passage in the 1660’s when our ancestors were brought here on slave ships. I found myself thinking about the 1760’s, 100 years later, when our ancestors toiled in the burning heat, picking cotton in the fields of southern plantations. Then, I smiled as I thought about the 1860’s, when the Emancipation Proclamation was signed into law.
If what history tells us is true, from 1910 to 1930, there was a Great Migration where 1.6 million Black people moved from the south to the north, many believing they were traveling to “a land flowing with milk and honey.” History also tells us that there was a second Great Migration from 1940 to 1970 in which another 5 million of us uprooted ourselves from the south, headed north, and tried to get in on this luscious land of milk and honey. All in all, we are told that during the 20th Century about 6 million African Americans left the south and traveled north in search of that milk and honey.
When I think about this time, I image our great grandfathers and great grandmothers were preparing for the Great Migration, preparing to get up out of the south. Think about the excitement that probably ran through every bone in their bodies as they prepared to leave the southern states, a place where their mothers and fathers – and their mothers and fathers – and their mothers and fathers had known for so long. Yes, the time had come for our great grandfather’s and great grandmothers to travel to that place they had heard so much about: to a place that flowed with milk and honey.
In the book “Black America Past to Present”, author Marcia A. Smith wrote “The Great Migration set the stage for the emergence of a self-assured, sophisticated, and politically militant black leadership and the flowering of African American culture”. Our ancestors were deliberate in their pursuit. We are told that black people moved as individuals and as family units during the Great Migration. We are told they received no government help, yet, that didn’t matter because they were trying to escape rampant violence and lynching in the south as well as a lack of jobs and other opportunities. Just think about it. In 1900, there were only about 700,000 African Americans who lived outside the south; just 8 percent of the nation’s total black population, and by 1970, there were over 10.5 million black people living outside of the south, almost half the nation’s total black population.
Oh how excited our African American ancestors must have been as they boarded the carriages in the early 1900’s, and decades later, when they boarded the buses and trains that would carry them from the south to the north. We’re told most of them were so excited they left the few worldly possessions they had behind. So excited they could already taste the milk and honey.
Imagine how they must have felt two years before their trip, working by day and dreaming by night about that special place where they would make a new start, be able to take care of their families, educate themselves without repercussions, pay rent to a landlord instead of a plantation owner, buy a house, or God willing, someday, build a business of their own. And how they must have felt weeks prior to their departure date as they counted their money, praying they had saved enough to make the big trip.
We now know many of our ancestors did make it to the supposed promised- land; a few of them were actually able to taste the sweet sensation of milk and honey on the tips of their tongues. We now know that when they got here – in the 1920’s, 30’s, 40’s, and 50’s, some of our them were able to find work as laborers for big industries, find employment in local shops, buy homes, educate themselves, and, yes, even start a business.
But what was life really like for our people who came from the south and traveled north yearning to do so much? Had they really found a land that flowed with milk and honey?
A year before he died, in the year 2000, the Late Harry Davis talked about what life was like in the first half of the 20th Century for blacks who made it to Minnesota; what life was like for our people who planted their seeds of hope right here in north Minneapolis.
In an interview he gave in a documentary entitled, “We Knew Who We Were,” produced by the Jewish Historical Society of the Upper Midwest, Harry Davis talked about north Minneapolis after our relatives arrived in north Minneapolis, saying, “There were Jewish boys (and) young African-American boys playing basketball together. We crossed racial and religious lines and so that’s why it was so unique.”
Harry Davis said north Minneapolis had been a place where historically persecuted people came together, saying, “The whole relationship of togetherness was developed because we were kind of equal in terms of economics.”
In a KARE 11 story, filed by reporter Scott Goldberg in 2007, Goldberg began his news report by saying, “Underneath the North Minneapolis that grabs headlines — the neighborhoods dealing with big-city problems — there is a community that, for decades and through generations, had the feel of something more simple.”
In his KARE 11 story, Goldberg interviewed Reva Rosenbloom, a Jewish lady who grew up at 16th and Oliver Avenue North and lived there until she was married in 1954. Reva Rosenbloom talked to KARE 11 about what it was like to grow up in north Minneapolis 50 years ago. She said, “Nobody locked their door, you could walk down the street and know everybody,” She said her parents owned a dry goods store on Plymouth Avenue, which was, at the time, a booming business district.” Referring to Plymouth Avenue she said, “And that’s where everybody did everything. It was like a small town. They didn’t go downtown. We didn’t have shopping malls.”
From what I have learned, there were Jewish businesses up and down Plymouth Avenue in the 1950’s and 60’s, but there were also small black businesses interspersed on Plymouth Avenue, along the old Highway 55 which is now Olson Memorial Highway, and some on West Broadway. Were these black businesses large businesses which employed hundreds of people? No. Most black businesses in the 1950’s and 60’s in north Minneapolis employed three or four people and the businesses struggled to get by. They were mixed in with the old scrap metal company owned by whites, the big stores like Pigley Wigley’s, and other larger grocery stores owned by Jewish people and white people. There were places like the Blue Note Jazz Club on Washington Avenue owned by black folks which was a huge gathering place in north Minneapolis for all sorts of people. But mostly, the black businesses were small barber shops, the Elks Club which is still here, and some smaller grocery stores, like the little grocery store in the basement of the housing projects on 8th and Bryant Avenue North, which was owned by a black man. At that grocery store, neighbors could get credit with the owner of the little grocery store to buy their food and goods.
The blacks who traveled here closer to the middle of the 20th Century didn’t experience the same upward mobility as the blacks who relocated in the beginning of the 20th Century. By the 1960’s, the jobs were drying up, the economy had slowed, Jim Crow laws were in full swing, housing and employment discrimination was rampant, and land that flowed with milk and honey clearly evaded most blacks who missed the first carriages, buses and trains here. In the late 1960’s, riots and civil disturbances began to rule the day. Clearly, the land that flowed with milk and honey had dried up.
The riots in the late 1960’s that ravaged the U.S. swept into north Minneapolis as well, burning down not just the black businesses on Plymouth Avenue, but all the businesses on Plymouth Avenue.
In a Minneapolis Star Tribune article written by Steve Brandt and Terry Collins in 2007, they looked back at a Minneapolis Star article dated July 25, 1967, where a 21-year old Harry (Spike) Moss is quoted as saying, “You tell them rioting is wrong when he doesn’t have his freedom . . . you wait two or three years while this young generation comes along. They see if you want anything, you got to take it.”
In the 2007 Minneapolis Star Tribune article, a then 61-year old Harry (Spike) Moss said, “We’re still fighting for our basic rights in this city, this state and in this country. Why? Because we’re still being denied equal opportunities – education and employment wise – that we have fought, bled, and shed tears over. Ask yourself, are you getting your fair share? That’s the number one concern, because you want the next generation to have it better than the last. The inequity that caused the problems back then could cause another riot today somewhere else. There will be a lot more anger this time though. And it won’t be orchestrated either. What happened on Plymouth Avenue 40 years ago wasn’t organized. It was spontaneous because the people were mad about the conditions already existing. “
Put another way, Elder Mahmoud El Kati told KARE 11’s Scott Goldberg this about the 60’s: “For a black person like my father to get an FHA loan was about as easy as getting a camel through the eye of a needle.” He told KARE 11 housing policy was just one of the hurdles lining up in front of blacks. He said in the interview, “What do you want to talk about? Education? Family? Religion? Entertainment? War? Peace? I mean, it’s the same question – black people will get the worst of it.”
When asked about the riots of the 1960’s, Liz Samuels, a lifelong black resident of north Minneapolis told KARE 11, “People were very unhappy with the things around the country, and so they reacted the way everybody else did around the country.”
This was followed by Al McFarlane saying in the same KARE 11 interview, “This was simply a statement of rejecting of this assigned second-class status.”
Alfred Babington Johnson commented in the interview, saying, “It was happening all over the country. The frustration was about how this system worked and started to respond.”
In this same interview, Harriet Kaplan, who was actually caught by a camera the day after the riot, as she was caught taking appliances out of Koval’s appliance store at Plymouth and James Avenue North, said, “They broke all the windows and they trampled through everything. It looked like people got along. Why the riot happened, I don’t know. “
Finally, Al McFarlane urged fellow north siders to take back a sense of ownership in the KARE 11 interview, when he said, “Ultimately, we have to determine our own future and create our own sense of who we are.”
By the time the 1960’s had arrived, what really made black folks mad was that most African Americans were relegated to the second-class status Al McFarlane was talking about in the interview. As an example, right down the street where the old Sumner-Olson Public Housing units used to be, over 50 percent of all adults who lived in the Sumner Olson public housing projects were working. It’s just that they were stuck in jobs working as dishwashers, doormen, or in sewing factories making minimum wage that was raised to $1.00 an hour in 1967.
So yes, the 1960’s in North Minneapolis was a turbulent and storied time. It was this period that really should give us all pause.
I believe the 1960’s in north Minneapolis are very instructive about where black people have been as it relates to black businesses, black employment, and black life in general. And I believe the 1960’s are very relevant as to where we are—and where we all may choose to go—as people who care about and love our community.
And so, here we are, in 2013, some 122 years after black people began the Great Migration seeking the land that flowed with milk and honey and some 46 years after things blew up across the nation and right here in north Minneapolis when black folks realized there was really very little milk and very little honey to be had.
Well, what has changed? What is different today? North Minneapolis is still standing. Gone are the many Jewish businesses that lined the streets. North Minneapolis is still dotted with some black businesses. Pigley Wigley’s has been replaced by Cub Foods. And many black folks are either still working minimum wage, are under-employed, or unemployed. What has really changed?
Equality & Justice for All
Spike Moss reflects on history and recent events
Published Sep 11, 2014
“They stood up for us,” said Spike Moss, NAACP Community Action Chair, referring to generations of African-Americans in the pursuit of increased civil rights and freedom from oppression in America. “But Ferguson may be the turning point,” Moss continued, referring to the killing of Michael Brown by Officer Darren Wilson in Ferguson, Mo.
A native of Paris, Mo., Moss spoke at length about the curious nature of race relations in that region.
“Missouri was an anti-slave state, but we were born to midwives, because we weren’t allowed in the hospital. The park… never. The movie show… never. At the restaurant you went to the back door and got your food on wax paper. It was that hateful,” Moss said in an exclusive interview with Insight News.
reflected upon the powerful moment that left him with “…chills…sweating, and the shakes” when his 81 year old grandfather finally fulfilled Moss’ long request to visit the “slave cemetery” where both slaves and animals were buried, separately from whites, as well as indigenous Africans. “I carry the scars of Missouri,” Moss firmly emoted.
“It’s a case of lawlessness by the law when they declare capital punishment behind a carton of cigars and some shoving,” Moss said, again referencing the killing of Brown. “I am honored to have lived long enough to see the truth. After all the whippings and insults, I’ve lived long enough to see what I’ve said all along is being proven right. And you see it all over the America.”
“‘He’s just making trouble. We don’t want him stirring up the natives.’ That’s what they said about me,” said Moss, referring to his many critics over the years. Noting the power of language, Moss said he objects to being called an activist by officials and media. He said, “All of us in this fight are freedom fighters. An activist has no goal. Freedom is a clear goal… and I’m clear.” Moss rejects the language of race. “There is only one race of people and that’s human,” he said.
Moss is critical of the Minneapolis investigation of police brutality against fellow freedom fighter, Al Flowers.
“They are investigating police arrest policy. They need to investigate the crime. …We deserve real justice…and fairness. Officers have to be charged the same way citizens are,” said Moss.
Solutions to problems of racism and injustice will come from within the African-American community, Moss said.
“You’re American. Recognize your humanity. Believe in yourself. And have pride. Don’t separate from our children. Don’t criminalize them. The youth are mad, but they are us. When they’re mad, and they’re mad right now, and can’t see justice… we can’t let them be classified as troublemakers,” he said. “There ain’t no outsiders when you’re Black. The trouble is directed toward the youth, but we catch hell as one… whether you’re talking about being put down, or murdered.”
Asked about his sources of courage, Moss, a graduate of Central High School reflected, “I’ve been used to standing up since I was a youth in North Minneapolis. I was taught to have a ‘Yes I can’ attitude.”
“Courage is within us. It’s about what’s important to you. Some folks stand up strong when they’re returning a simple item to the store…but it’s about what’s important to you. We can’t be afraid of our condition and history.”
“We need to use these events as a way to learn. The government needs to put laws in place for officers to be charged with assault and murder. There should be personal accountability,” Moss said.
The Way celebrates
50th anniversary
Published Aug 4, 2016
“For a Moment We Had The Way” by Rolland Robinson tells the story of The Way Unlimited, Inc.
This year marks the 50th anniversary of The Way Unlimited, Inc., founded in 1966 at 1925 Plymouth Ave., which is now occupied by the Minneapolis Police Department Fourth Precinct.
The Way, an organization for social justice and political change, offered programs in African-American studies, poetry, art, dance and music and in 1967 brought the celebration of Kwanza to the Twin Cities. Several community activist and leaders either furthered their platform or got their start at The Way. People such as Mahmoud El-Kati, Dr. Josie Johnson, Harry “Spike” Moss, Vusumuzi Zulu, Nothando Zulu and Verlena Matey-Keke all came through The Way.
At one point during The Way’s existence a Hennepin County grand jury indicted The Way’s leadership for “coddling criminals” for teaching Black history classes in prisons in the state. Muhammad Ali once visited The Way during a trip to Minneapolis, as did James Brown and Amiria Baraka.
Violent crime
By Harry Colbert, Jr.
Insight News Managing Editor –
Published June 11, 2017
Sun’s out guns out.
While most associate that saying with the showing off of well-toned limbs during the summer months, the saying has a far more literal meaning in many urban enclaves. Minneapolis and St. Paul are experiencing their share of violent crime in 2017. At time of press there have been 13 homicides committed in Minneapolis in 2017.
The most recent was the June 6 killing of a 37-year-old in North Minneapolis. A day prior a 17-year-old succumbed to his wounds from a weekend shooting. In St. Paul there have been 12 killings thus far this year; four have been teenage girls.
Enough is enough.
That’s the sentiment behind this week’s gang summit to be held Friday and Saturday (June 16 and June 17) at the New Salem Baptist Church, 2507 Bryant Ave. N., Minneapolis. International superstar Stevie Wonder will be on hand to talk personally with area gang members to call for and encourage lasting peace. The summit is being called by the group United for Peace – an initiative led by the Rev. Jerry McAfee, the Rev. Alfred Babington-Johnson and community activist Spike Moss.
Moss said intervention is critical if the area wants to have a summer of sun and fun rather than doom and gloom. He said he sees similarities going into the summer of 2017 that he saw in the 1990s when Minneapolis got the moniker “Murderapolis.” Moss convened a summit back then that eventually was replicated in Chicago, Washington D.C, Cleveland, Pittsburgh, Kansas City and other areas plagued by violence.
“In the ‘90s we were able to save thousands of lives, but the reason we’re back is because the things that were promised (by city and state officials) were never delivered,” said Moss.
Moss said jobs, job training and educational opportunities were promised but the promises were unkept.
“We kept up our part but the resources were never provided,” said longtime activist Moss. “The glue to lasting peace is for people to have peace within their own heart and that starts with opportunity.”
Moss is calling on men of the community to join in mentoring and interacting with wayward youth. But he said they must be up for the challenge.
“I’ve had guns pointed at me. We go in there (areas of increased violence) and we go in without guns, without (bulletproof) vest; the only thing we’re armed with is God almighty and the love in our hearts,” said Moss. “We’ve been successful before and we can do it again.”
The straight-talking activist said he knows the summit won’t result in zero violence, but it can greatly reduce the number of violent acts in the community.
“We will never save everybody but let’s save who we can. Saving lives, that’s the mission,” said Moss.
Minnesota’s Reckoning:
Spike Moss on George Floyd and systemic racism
By Pulane Choane Contributing Writer
Published Jun 7, 2024
During a poignant conversation on Radio KFAI’s 90.3 FM during George Floyd week, community leaders and activists gathered on the popular show “The Conversation with Al McFarlane” to reflect on systemic injustices and the long history of racial strife in Minnesota. Broadcasting live from George Floyd Square in South Minneapolis, the discussion brought together influential voices, including Spike Moss, a stalwart freedom fighter and a vocal advocate for the Black community. Moss, whose activism dates to the 1960s, shed light on the persistent issues of police brutality and systemic racism exacerbated by George Floyd’s tragic death.
“Minnesota has been out of order for so many years,” Moss began, his voice heavy with the weight of decades of struggle. He recounted the harrowing incident from 1966 when a young Black girl was brutally beaten by police, sparking the state’s first rebellion. “George Floyd was not just a man; in his death, he became a symbol, a sacrificial lamb that forced the world to look at the ongoing atrocities here,” he explained.
Moss detailed the historical backdrop of Minnesota’s racial tensions, pointing out that despite being a northern state, it has harbored deep-seated racial bias. “We have had more rebellions than any other state, but nobody knew because the local media, owned by the powers that be, never let the truth out,” he asserted.
The conversation turned to the numerous cases Moss has handled over his 42-year career, fighting against the injustices imposed on African American and Native American communities. “There was no justice in Minnesota,” he said. “We have far too many police with extensive records of misconduct that have never been brought to trial.”
Moss highlighted the systemic barriers that have prevented accountability, including the lack of action from city councils, mayors, and other state officials. He lamented the consistent failures to charge or convict white police officers despite clear evidence of wrongdoing. “I won 90-some percent of all the lawsuits, and lost 100% of all charges against white officers,” he stated, reflecting a grim reality of racial disparity in legal outcomes.
The discussion also touched on the economic disparities that have plagued the Black community in Minnesota. “To live in a state where white people own the majority of mortgages and businesses, and we own less than half of 1%… it’s not just racism, it’s a conspiracy,” Moss argued, painting a picture of systemic exclusion and economic oppression.
Moss also brought attention to recent incidents, like the tragic case of Ricky Cobb II, who was fatally shot by a Highway Patrol officer during a traffic stop. “Ricky didn’t make it home because of an unnecessary and aggressive police action, which is a symptom of the broader disease of racial injustice in our state,” he pointed out.
As the community grapples with these deep-rooted issues, Moss’ words serve as a stark reminder of the challenges ahead. He called on listeners to acknowledge the systemic nature of racism and to actively work towards meaningful change. “Our community will stand up because enough is enough. It’s time for action, for change, and for justice,” Moss concluded, his message resonating with urgency and resolve.
This conversation, set against the backdrop of George Floyd Square and aired during George Floyd week, not only honored Floyd’s memory but also amplified the ongoing struggle for justice and equality in Minnesota. It served as a powerful call to action, urging the community and the nation to face and address the systemic issues that have long plagued society.
