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Rev. Nelson Johnson points to a photo of himself checking on a fallen friend at his Faith Community Church in Greensboro, N.C. (AP Photo/Allen G. Breed)

Morning, gang.

Last week Greensboro lost one of its most storied, impactful, and controversial figures—Rev. Nelson Johnson.

When I moved here for college in 2000 I knew nothing about the Greensboro Massacre. That’s embarrassing enough to admit. More embarrassing—I was here for several years before I learned as much as I should have about it—around the time the Truth and Reconciliation Commission was formed in 2004 to reexamine the tragic events of November 3, 1979.

The pushback the commission got and the degree to which its work was dismissed by many in Greensboro gave me some insight into why I had heard so little. It was still, decades later, a topic that so divided the city along racial, class, and political lines it was often treated as a third rail.

Over the course of a decade reporting for the city’s daily paper, the News & Record, I had many opportunities to write about the massacre—including the debate over a historical marker for the event in 2015. The conversation around the language of that marker was so heated you’d have thought it all happened weeks, not decades, earlier. Many people—including some on the city council—would have preferred there to be no marker at all, and for the day to be forgotten entirely.

I received angry letters and phone calls about nearly everything I wrote on the massacre in those years—from the political left and right, from Black and white readers. This was clearly a deep wound a long way from healing.

As a reporter, I also had the chance to interview the survivors of the Greensboro Massacre—including Rev. Johnson. When I did, I didn’t find him to be the scheming, Machiavellian character I’d heard about in whispers from some politicians and cops throughout the city. He seemed, instead, like a great uncle you heard had once been quite the hellion but had mellowed into dreaded respectability when you were still in grade school.

Why and how had this mild-mannered preacher become such a boogeyman to so many in this city? The longer I reported here, the more I understood.

As the city and county struggled to get the Agapion family to keep its hundreds of residential properties liveable for renters and pay hundreds of thousands of dollars in back taxes, I learned Johnson had helped organize a tenant strike over the same issues with the same landlords in the early 1970s.

As the lowest-paid university employees struggled for a living wage, I learned Johnson had rallied students to their defense over the same issues in the late 1960s. As the city repeatedly made large pay-outs to the families of unarmed Black men killed by its police department, I found Johnson had been at the center of conflicts over racialized policing well before I was born.

But it wasn’t just his history. Johnson remained vital, engaged, and a mentor to generations of organizers and activists until very near the end of his life. While the events of the Greensboro Massacre were always likely to lead his obituary, it’s far from the full story.

This week, we bring you a larger and deeper reflection on the life and impact of Nelson Johnson.

Let’s get into it.

– Joe Killian

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Rev. Nelson Johnson:
A Legacy Beyond Tragedy

In this Aug. 16, 2017 photo, the Rev. Nelson Johnson and his wife, Joyce, stand beside a historical marker for the “Greensboro Massacre” in Greensboro, N.C. Near that spot on Nov. 3, 1979, Nazis and members of the Ku Klux Klan attacked marching workers, leaving five dead and Johnson injured. (AP Photo/Allen G. Breed)

When Rev. Nelson Johnson died Monday at 81, everyone from local Greensboro activists to the city’s highest elected leaders praised the Civil Rights icon who stayed rooted in the city despite his national profile.

From his days as a young radical at N.C. A&T University to surviving the Greensboro Massacre in 1979 and beyond, Johnson earned a reputation as an uncompromising crusader for workers’ rights, the city’s poor, and fighting racism. That often put him at odds with the police, business leaders, and the political establishment.

Jim Melvin, mayor of Greensboro for much of the 1970s, once called him “the most dangerous man in Greensboro.” That reputation lingered long after Johnson became pastor of Faith Community Church and founding co-executive director of The Beloved Community Center of Greensboro.

“It is somewhat rare for me to be in a setting where I’m not under attack or under suspicion,” Johnson told a crowd at the Bethel AME church in 2015. The line drew knowing laughter, but Johnson wasn’t kidding.

This week, area leaders and community activists alike—Black and white, Democrat and Republican—paid tribute to his legacy.

Read the full story here.



– Joe Killian

Read this newsletter online or contact The Thread team with tips and feedback at greensboro@theassemblync.com.


Guilford Green Foundation & LGBTQ Center Welcomes New Executive Director

Bess Newton, new executive director of the Guilford Green Foundation & LGBTQ Center (Photo courtesy of GGF)

Last week was a strange and challenging time for Bess Newton to step into her role as the new executive director of the Guilford Green Foundation & LGBTQ Center.

While Newton was still figuring out her voicemail at the Greensboro nonprofit, President Donald Trump’s administration was issuing a series of executive orders targeting LGBTQ people. On Friday references to transgender people disappeared from the U.S. National Park Service website for the Stonewall National Monument.

“I’ve heard my whole life that rights, once gained, can slide backwards,” Newton said in an interview last week. “I just never wanted to believe it.”

Newton, 46, is an Eastern North Carolina native. She’s worked with nonprofits in Boston and Western North Carolina, including Pisgah Legal Services, the Girl Scouts, and Under One Sky Village Foundation. Most recently, she served as director of development for the Eastern Music Festival.

As the LGBTQ community faces new assaults on hard-won rights and progress, Newton said, joining Guilford Green feels right.

“It feels momentous and it feels critical,” she said. “I knew that I was ready to get back into the world of advocacy and human rights after taking a little bit of time and working in youth development and arts administration.”

“After marriage equality passed, I started raising my family,” Newton said. “I had rights that I did not have before. So I feel like I sat on the bench for a little while, and we’ve been raising our children. And now, with what’s happening, there’s no better time to fight the fight again.”

Beginning in the mid-90s to raise money to support people with HIV/AIDS, Guilford Green has expanded its mission over nearly three decades to LGBTQ advocacy, education, and philanthropy. This week the group will host a legal panel on LGBTQ issues and the impact of the new Trump administration. But its work increasing queer visibility through events like Green Queen Bingo, bar takeovers, and its LGBTQ youth center is just as important.

“All of that just provides a landing zone for people, for them to feel supported and accepted in the city,” Newton said. “That’s always something that’s been needed—maybe now more than ever.”

— Joe Killian


Around the Region

Song For The Dumped: Winston-Salem’s own Ben Folds resigned last week as artistic advisor to the National Symphony Orchestra. The move came as part of an exodus from the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts in reaction to President Donald Trump purging board members of the national cultural center and appointing new ones who elected him chairman. The Hollywood Reporter has the story.

Around the State

Rumors, Fear Spread as N.C. Immigrants Brace for ICE Deportations

Calls to a Durham-based hotline spiked, and schools and churches scrambled to communicate with families as President Trump’s deportation push began.

How North Carolina Got a Trump-Backed Voting Chief

Republicans have wanted to regain control of the state election apparatus for years. With state Auditor Dave Boliek, they’ve found their man.

Reflecting on The Assembly’s 4th Birthday

As we end our fourth year, we’re working to become your essential news subscription. Here’s how.


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Joe Killian is The Assembly's Greensboro editor. He joined us from NC Newsline, where he was senior investigative reporter. He spent a decade at The News & Record covering cops and courts, higher education, and government.