In Iowa: Complicated legacies

Sometimes I learn a story that's already well known to much of the community but is so powerful it's worth repeating. This week, that was the story of Dr. Percy Harris and his wife, Lileah Harris, who devoted much of their lives to public service in Cedar Rapids and beyond.

Dr. Harris, who is now 88, arrived in Cedar Rapids in 1957 to complete an internship as the first black physician at St. Luke's Hospital. The hospital recently spearhead an effort to produce a book honoring his life, 'A Healing Presence in Our Community,” which is available to read online for free and is the subject of an article in The Gazette's Books section today.

Along with documenting the Harris family's many accomplishments, the book examines the stark reality that just 50 years ago racial-segregation practices kept them out of many Cedar Rapids neighborhoods.

When the Harrises first arrived in town, with four children in tow, real estate agents quickly found housing for all the white interns. But they could not find a place willing to accommodate a black family.

Lileah Harris and the children moved in with her mother in Waterloo while St. Luke's staff worked to convert a hospital-owned home for the family.

After Dr. Harris completed his internship and opened up a private practice, his family continued to grow - he and his wife would eventually have 12 children. Still, they could not find a place to build their own home in neighborhoods they preferred. Available lots would suddenly be unavailable when they expressed interest.

In 1961, Robert and Esther Armstrong, who attended St. Paul's United Methodist with Harris, asked a property they had donated to the church be sold to the family. In response, neighbors wrote letters to congregation members asking them to oppose the sale.

Nearly 800 attended a meeting to discuss it, including Dr. Harris and a reporter from Time magazine.

After much contentious debate, 460 members voted to approve the sale, while 291 voted against it. Many of those who were opposed felt so strongly they broke away and formed their own church, Lovely Lane United Methodist.

I cannot comprehend what it must have been like to listen to people argue that you and your family were not fit to live next to them. To watch them leave their own church in protest. If I was in that circumstance, I can imagine being tempted to turn away, to want nothing more to do with that community.

But instead of responding with bitterness, Dr. and Mrs. Harris acted with incredible grace. They reapplied themselves to public life, becoming leaders in the community, serving on countless boards and commissions while raising their full household.

After the church split, the Lovely Lane pastor's son became friends with the eldest Harris son, Bruce.

On the church's website, the mission statement today includes this:

'We stand with those who are devalued in our society because of their color, gender, marital status, creed, sexual orientation, age, physical or mental ability, immigration status or economic condition ...

We will not judge, but welcome with open hearts, open minds and open doors.

'And we will never stop trying.”

Our communities are complicated. The legacies of our past are all around us.

I want to believe we can overcome those legacies, as both the Harris family and Lovely Lane church members have sought to do. Overcoming doesn't mean forgetting the past, however ugly it may be. It means embracing its lessons, recognizing the ways it influences who we are today and seeking to heal its wounds.

I hope we will never stop trying.