REMEMBERING THE REVEREND
DR. EDWARD ANDERSON FREEMAN -- HON. DENNIS MOORE (Extensions of Remarks -
February 02, 1999)
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HON.
DENNIS MOORE
OF KANSAS
HON.
KAREN McCARTHY
OF MISSOURI
IN THE HOUSE OF
REPRESENTATIVES
TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 2, 1999
- Mr.
MOORE. Mr. Speaker, my colleague, Ms. MCCARTHY of
Missouri, and I join today in paying tribute to the late Reverend Dr.
Edward Anderson (``E.A.'') Freeman, who we are saddened to report passed
away on January 26, 1999, in Kansas City, Kansas. His funeral was held
this morning at the First Baptist Church of Quindaro, where he had been
pastor for fifty years before retiring in 1996.
- Reverend
Freeman was the fifth of seven sons of James and Ollie Watts Freeman, born
in Atlanta, Georgia, on June 11, 1914. He was educated in the Atlanta
public schools, and received an A.B. from Clark College in Atlanta. After
attending U.S. Army Chaplaincy School and Harvard University, he received
his bachelor of divinity, master of theology and doctor of theology
degrees from Central Baptist Theological in Kansas City, Kansas. His
doctoral thesis was published as a book, ``Epoch of Negro Baptist and the
Foreign Mission Board'' in 1953, and remains a standard textbook for
teaching religious progress from the earliest beginnings of
African-American life in the United States. After his early career as
principal of Austell School in Georgia, Reverend Freeman served as pastor
of two churches and as a U.S. Army chaplain from 1942-46, attaining the
rank of major. After discharge from the Army, he was called to pastor the
First Baptist Church in Kansas City, Kansas, where he served our community
for fifty years.
- Reverend
Freeman, simply put, was a leader in local, national, and international
communities. He was a visionary who was driven to assist and empower
people, fighting as a civil rights activist, community leader, and
president of the Kansas City chapter of the National Association for the
Advancement of Colored People. Additionally, he served on the Kansas City,
Kansas, Planning Commission from 1955 to 1995 (as its chairman for 29
years), and served on the Kansas City, Kansas Crime Prevention Council. He
also was a leader in church affairs, serving as: president of the
Missionary Baptist State Convention of Kansas; president of the Sunday
School and Baptist Training Union Congress of the National Baptist
Convention, U.S.A.; first vice president of the Baptist World Alliance for
five years in the 1980s; and as adjunct professor and member of the board
of directors of Central Baptist Theological Seminary for many years.
- In
addition, we must note the numerous awards Reverend Freeman won throughout
his career which reflect his dedication to dialogue between different
faiths, races and cultures, such as the Meeker Award from Ottawa
University, which is given to individuals who have demonstrated a life of
sacrifice, service to the disadvantaged, profound stewardship of life,
unrelenting humanitarian services, and worthiness as a role model; and the
Martin Luther King, Jr., Citizenship Award for Community Service, which
embraced the philosophy of Dr. King and was presented by the Kansas City
Kansas Martin Luther King, Jr., Holiday Celebration Committee.
- We
join with the many friends, colleagues and community associates of
Reverend Freeman in mourning this profound loss. As the Kansas
City Star noted in its obituary, Reverend Freeman, throughout his
career, was known for ``interceding in numerous personal, business, and
church matters at the request of those involved.'' He will, of course, be
greatly missed by his wife, Ruth Anthony Freeman, and their three
children: Edward A. Freeman, Jr.; Constance M. Lindesay; William N.
Freeman; their son-in-law, Horace B. Lindesay, Jr.; six grandchildren; and
many nieces, nephews, and cousins.
- Mr.
Speaker, in closing, we add to the RECORD two articles from
the Kansas City Star, reviewing the life of this remarkable
man, which are aptly entitled, ``Death claims a role model: Rev. E.A.
Freeman was local, national social crusader,'' and ``Commitment was the
hallmark of Rev. E.A. Freeman's life.''
[From
the Kansas City Star, Jan. 29, 1999]
DEATH
CLAIMS A ROLE MODEL REV. E.A. FREEMAN WAS LOCAL, NATIONAL SOCIAL CRUSADER
(By:
Helen T. Gray)
He was a man of God, and
a man of his word. When the Rev. E. A. Freeman put his weight behind a cause,
things would happen.
``If he said he would do
something, you could count on him to do it,'' said the Rev. C. L. Bachus, a
fellow minister and longtime friend. ``Only the Lord could stop him.''
Freeman, 84, a longtime
religious and civic leader, died Tuesday at the Alzheimer's Center of Kansas
City in Kansas City, Kan. He had been pastor of First Baptist Church of
Quindaro for 50 years before retiring in 1996.
The Rev. Jesse Jackson,
long a friend of Freeman's, will deliver the eulogy at the service Tuesday.
``He was a very well
respected member of our community,'' said Carol Marinovich, mayor of the
Unified Government of Wyandotte County/Kansas City, Kan. ``He was a gentleman,
and a gentle man, very committed to all the people of the community.
``Freeman's influence
extended beyond Kansas City. He was first vice president of the Baptist World
Alliance, a worldwide organization of Baptist churches, for five years in the
1980s. He worked with people of different races, ethnic backgrounds and
cultures around the world.
During the Iranian
hostage crisis in 1980, Freeman was among African-American ministers who went
to Iran to try to open lines of communication between Islamic and Christian
leaders.
``I had a great respect
for him.'' said the Rev. Stacey Hopkins, pastor of First Baptist. ``Everybody
respected him. He was always willing to help the younger preachers. Many of us
tried to pattern ourselves after him. ...... He always wore a shirt, tie and
jacket. Always. He was a good example.''
The Rev. Nelson Thompson
said he worked with Freeman on several projects and admired his longevity.
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``He was a mentor for
me,'' said Thompson, president of the Greater Kansas City chapter of the
Southern Christian Leadership Conference. ``He was a rare individual. Not many
people can pastor a church for 50 years.''
Freeman was a past president
of the Sunday School and Baptist Training Union Congress, the Christian
education arm of the National Baptist Convention U.S.A. Inc. He also was a past
president of the Missionary Baptist State Convention of Kansas. He had been
president of the Kansas City, Kan., chapter of the NAACP; a member of the
Kansas City, Kan., Planning Commission from 1955 to 1995, serving as chairman
for 29 years; a member of the Kansas Board of Probation and Parole; and a
member of the Kansas City, Kansas, Crime Prevention Council.
When Freeman retired, he
said his greatest desire had been to help people. He recalled speaking with
city officials about problems that minorities faced and riding with police
during the riots after the death of the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., ``trying
to keep everybody calm.''
Alvin Brooks, a former
assistant city manager in Kansas City, said that his friend of more than 45
years had few peers, either as preacher or prompter of social change.
``He could really preach
a sermon,'' said Brooks, ``But he wasn't just a preacher. He could walk into a
room, and he had such a presence. ...... He was a great role model for young
African-American men and young men aspiring to be ministers.''
The funeral service will
be at 11 a.m. Tuesday at First Baptist Church, Fifth Street and Nebraska
Avenue, Kansas City, Kan. Visitation will be from 10 a.m. to 8 p.m. Monday and
from 9 to 11 a.m. Tuesday at the church.
It was Freeman's wish
that Jackson deliver his eulogy. Jackson spoke at First Baptist several times.
Religious leaders from throughout the community and various parts of the
country are expected to attend the services.
He leaves his wife, Ruth
Anthony Freeman; his children, Edward A. Freeman Jr. of San Diego, Calif.,
Constance M. Lindesay and William N. Freeman, both of Kansas City; a
son-in-law, Horace B. Lindesay Jr.; six grandchildren; and a great-grandchild.
--
[From
the Kansas City Star, Feb. 1, 1999]
COMMITMENT
WAS THE HALLMARK OF REV. E.A. FREEMAN'S LIFE
[By
Steve Paul, Kate Beem and Erica Wood]
The first indication that
the Rev. E.A. Freeman could be a persuasive force in his adopted home of Kansas
City, Kan., came in the spring of 1946.
Then a 32-year-old Army
chaplain and major about to leave the service, Freeman arrived at the
invitation of a friend. The First Baptist church, at Fifth Street and Nebraska
Avenue, was between preachers. Freeman agreed to give a guest sermon.
He proved quite up to the
task. This was, after all, the Edward A. Freeman who at the age of 16 had won
an oratorical contest in his hometown of Atlanta.
Well, the short version
of the story goes, Freeman so impressed the leaders of First Baptist that they
had a little problem. They quickly solved it by withdrawing an offer made to
their pastor-to-be and giving the job to Freeman.
It turned out that
Freeman was not just taking on a job when he moved his wife, Ruth, and three
children from Atlanta that June. He was taking on a way of life.
Over the next 50 years,
until his retirement in 1996 and his death a week ago today, Freeman's way of
life was commitment. As most people who knew him put it, he embodied the idea
of commitment, not only to his God and to his church, but to his community.
Preacher, pastor,
minister to those in need. Bridge builder, conciliator, a quiet civic giant.
Husband and father. Orator and scholar. Advocate for social and economic
justice.
Freeman's accomplishments
were many and his influence vast.
The Rev. Jesse
Jackson--civil-rights leader, activist and presidential candidate--will deliver
the eulogy at Freeman's funeral today. Jackson said that, after Martin Luther
King Jr., the most important person in his political life was the Rev. E.A.
Freeman of Kansas City, Kan.
``He was a real freedom
fighter,'' Jackson said.
CIVIC,
RELIGIOUS PILLAR
Leon Lemons, a retired
banker, an old friend and a trustee of First Baptist, noted how important
Freeman was to the city when he recalled what H.W. Sewing, a founder and
president of Douglass Bank, told him some 40 years ago.
``We should not let
Reverend Freeman get out of this city,'' Sewing told Lemons. ``He's a man with
vision, a man with integrity. He's a man who can get things done.''
By that point, after a
little more than 10 years in Kansas City, Kan., Freeman had run for the school
board and the state Legislature. Although unsuccessful, those campaigns gave
him a public forum to speak up about social welfare and segregation.
But he didn't need a
political campaign to raise his voice: In 1949, he excoriated the Wyandotte
County chairman of the American Red Cross over a racial affront at a ``Victory
Dinner,'' threatening a boycott of the agency's fund drives. The next year, he
helped bring pressure on the owner of two local movie theaters, which until
then had denied admission to blacks.
In the years to come, he
would spearhead housing developments and become involved in many improvements
in Kansas City, Kan., as a member of the city's Planning Commission for 40
years and its chairman for 29. There were disappointments, too, and failures
amid the long economic decay of his city, but he never stopped fighting for
what he believed was right.
In the 1970s and '80s, he
helped establish some of the first homeless shelters in the community, said
Mary Sue Severance of the United Way of Wyandotte County.
``He seemed to be everywhere
in the community,'' Severance said.
In civic dealings,
Freeman's trademark was his tranquil demeanor. He often was a peacemaker. The
Rev. Nelson Thompson, president of the Greater Kansas City chapter of the
Southern Christian Leadership Conference, used code words for the white and
black communities when he said Freeman ``had great influence uptown, yet he
could work in the northeast and everybody respected him.''
In ministerial dealings,
his tenure produced Sunday services that usually lasted two hours or more. He
was prone to offering two sermons, a spiritual one and a political one. He gave
his congregation political advice on issues of the day. Although he never told
them how to vote, he gave strong hints, said his daughter, Connie Lindesay.
Freeman had a legendary
amount of energy and drive. Arieta Mobiley, a former church deaconess, said it
wasn't unusual to drive by and see Freeman's car parked outside the church at 1
or 2 in the morning.
Even after he retired,
Mobiley said, Freeman went to the church every day for two years.
``There weren't many
people who had the energy he did,''
Lindesay said. ``His
persistence, his vision, that will, that drive. To him, it was, `I'm going to
get to that goal,' and that goal had to do with the commitment to and
investment in the people around.''
He was humble about his
accomplishments but had the courage essentially to start his own civil-rights
movement in Kansas City, Kan., said Kansas City Mayor Emanuel Cleaver.
``When he came along,''
Cleaver said, ``times were really dangerous for a black man who would stand up
and declare his somebodyness.''
Freeman well knew that
the fight for social justice and equality for African-Americans involved not
only overcoming racism but also, in the words of his friend and colleague, the
Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., ``its perennial ally--economic
exploitation.''
A
JACKSON MENTOR
Jackson and Freeman first
met in the 1950s. Jackson was a King disciple; Freeman was a leader in the
National Baptist Convention. By 1959, however, the convention had become
increasingly uncomfortable with King's high-profile activism. A rift developed,
but while Freeman actively stuck with the convention, he never lost contact
with King or Jackson.
After King's
assassination in 1968, Jackson stood alone. Freeman reached out to him,
inviting him back and re-introducing him into powerful circles within the
National Baptist Convention.
``He took that risk and
adopted me in a spiritual sense,'' Jackson said. ``I feel so indebted to him.''
Jackson returned to
Kansas City several times, and in 1976, at his first revival, he chose
Freeman's First Baptist as the location for the week-long spiritual event.
Jackson said his speeches
for students from two area high schools helped him form the National Rainbow/PUSH
Coalition, his long-running, grass-roots organization promoting social justice.
Thompson said Freeman was
a model of a minister who became involved in politics. Along with two other
titans of the black community, the Rev. Wallace S. Hartsfield and the Rev. A.L.
Johnson, Freeman inspired and mentored a younger generation of
political-activist preachers--Thompson and Cleaver among them. To them, he
advocated action over political posturing.
``He used to tell me,
`Reverend, talk will kill anything. You've got to just keep it low. Get it put
together before you talk about it too much.'
``He really wasn't quiet,
but he didn't do a lot of talking about what he was doing until it was done.''
Talk is one thing. Public
speaking is another. And Freeman was a master at oratory.
He filled his many
speeches and sermons with scholarship and poetry. Not only did he make the
scripture sing, but he also quoted extensively from Shakespeare and Tennyson,
from Keats and Browning and Kipling. ``And he didn't just read it,'' his
daughter said of his great capacity for recalling classic poems from memory,
``he spoke it as if he himself had written it.''
``Once you heard him
deliver a sermon,'' Cleaver said, ``you would know quickly that this was no
ordinary man. He was touched divinely in ways many can only imagine.''
``He was academic and
educational, yet he could be right down to earth,'' Thompson said.
In the late '70s,
Thompson heard Freeman deliver a speech on the steps of the Kansas Capitol. His
topic was the Exodusters, the black migrants who settled in Kansas after the
Civil War. Thompson had been unaware of the depth of Freeman's scholarship or
his capacity for research and history. And he was moved.
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``It was a profound
historical address,'' Thompson said. ``I shall never forget it.''
THE
POWER OF EDUCATION
Education was extremely
important to Freeman and his family. He sacrificed so his children could go to
college. He long remembered how difficult it had been to pursue his own
education.
In the late 1930s,
Freeman desperately wanted to go to college. But his widowed father was
struggling to support seven sons.
Freeman interviewed with
the president of Clark College in Atlanta and begged to attend classes there.
He succeeded, working his way through as a custodian, and eventually graduated
with a degree in education.
After his arrival in
Kansas City, Kan., he earned advanced degrees, including his doctorate in
theology from Central Baptist Theological Seminary in 1953. At the time, the
opportunity to earn such a degree was rare for a black minister.
Education remained
important throughout his involvement in the National Baptist Convention, USA.
Freeman became president of the organization's Congress of Christian Education
(as it's now called) in 1968.
His influence was almost
immediate. His dynamic leadership and speechmaking helped increase attendance
at its annual meeting by the thousands over his 15-year tenure.
``It's his personality,''
said the Rev. Ellis Robinson, Freeman's successor at First Baptist. ``He knew
how to get things done.''
In his work for the
National Baptist Convention and other programs, Freeman traveled
extensively--all around the world--often at a moment's notice.
But his first priority
was always his church. He always made sure that things would get done in his
absence.
``Ministers and clergymen
play a lot of different roles,'' said Thompson. ``The pastoral role is one of
shepherding, caring for and protecting and watching over the flock. .....
Nobody I know of played that role as well as Rev. Freeman. He was just a rare
individual. He could make you feel good when you felt bad; he was very
inspirational and uplifting.''
There's something else
about Freeman that people talk about. He loved to tell jokes. Every time he
spoke, people could expect to hear two or three jokes along the way.
Of course, he had two
kinds of jokes: those he could use in sermons and those he couldn't.
One of his very popular
jokes dated from the days of ``streaking,'' when college kids would dash
through public places in the buff. Freeman's joke had to do with some older
women in a nursing home. The punch line: One fellow goes, ``What was that?''
And the other goes, ``I don't know, but it sure did need ironing.''
Even in his last days,
that joke was still able to touch people in unexpected ways. One former church
member was visiting just a couple of weeks ago. Sitting at his bedside, this
person said, ``Reverend Freeman, I'll always remember that old joke about the
senior citizens.''
And, as his daughter
Connie Lindesay tells it: ``He just beamed. His eyes just twinkled.''
Nice
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