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Maurice Hart of Westland studies an exhibit Tuesday at Troy University Rosa Parks Library and Museum in Montgomery, Ala. Nationwide, public officials and ordinary people paused to reflect on Parks.Honoring a humble hero
Remembering Rosa
'An ordinary woman who did an extraordinary thing'
The Rev. Gloria J. Clark is pastor at St. Matthews AME in Detroit, where a black satin sash is draped on longtime member Parks' favorite second-row pew.Tentative funeral arrangements for Parks include:
• Public visitation Nov. 1 at the Charles H. Wright Museum of African American History in Detroit from 6 a.m. until 12 a.m.
• A funeral service Nov. 2 at Greater Grace Temple in Detroit
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Rosa Parks' legacy
Rosa Parks established herself as a civil rights legend when, in 1955, she refused to give up her bus seat to a white rider. Her defiance sparked the flame of the modern civil rights movement. How did Rosa Parks make a difference in your life?
St. Matthews AME members Chrissy Bell, 73, of Detroit and Bernice Jones, 65, of Southfield were friends with Rosa Parks for decades. The mother of the civil rights movement went to the church until she became too ill about 5 years ago.
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To the rest of the world, Rosa Parks was a civil rights icon. At her church, she was Mrs. Parks, the gentle woman in the second pew who never stopped fighting.
Throughout Tuesday, members gathered at St. Matthews AME in Detroit to celebrate their most famous parishioner. They recalled how Parks fed the poor, sewed clothes for the needy and served communion to shut-ins long after she launched a social revolution by refusing to relinquish her seat on a segregated bus in Montgomery, Ala., in 1955.
"She exemplified what leadership was about," said Philip R. Cousin, senior bishop of the 3 million-member African Methodist Episcopal Church. "When you reach a point of intolerance and injustice and take your stand without regard to consequences, you set an example for the world."
Nationwide, public officials and ordinary people paused to reflect on how Parks' steely act sparked a movement that changed the nation. Detroit Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick is lobbying for a national monument. An effort in the U.S. House and Senate would rename the Federal Homeland Security Office in southeast Detroit the "Rosa Parks Federal Building." Schools also are considering name changes or events.
Arrangements are incomplete, but public visitation likely will be 6 a.m. to midnight Nov. 1 at the Charles H. Wright Museum of African American History, with funeral services Nov. 2 at Greater Grace Temple in Detroit, said U.S. Appeals Court Judge Damon Keith, who is helping with the arrangements.
Until then, the memories, reminiscences and praise that began shortly after the 92-year-old's death Monday continue.
"Her show of defiance was an act of personal courage that moved millions, including a young preacher named Martin Luther King," President George Bush said. "Rosa Parks' example helped touch off the civil rights movement and transformed America for the better."
The Rev. Jim Holly, pastor of Little Rock Baptist Church in Detroit, remembered Parks as "an ordinary woman who did an extraordinary thing"
"So many people wear the icon on their shoulders," Holly said. "She was always Rosa Parks. We've lost a wonderful person. Hopefully, in our schools, all around this state, we can use her death to understand where we've come from and move forward."
The recently constructed, $3 million sixth-grade academy at the Detroit Academy of Arts and Sciences will be named for Parks, he said.
A woman who helped us all
For Nan Estell Gaddis and Edward Simmons, Parks made a more personal mark.
Gaddis was a junior in high school in Lake Providence, La., when Parks was arrested. At the time, she didn't think much of it. Her father was a sharecropper. Along with other blacks, her school year was patched together around the farming seasons. The white kids would drive by in school buses and wave while Gaddis and her friends picked cotton.
"We accepted a lot of things. Too much," said Gaddis, 68, a secretary who came to Detroit in 1956 and lives in Rosedale Park.
"It took me a while to realize the importance of what Mrs. Parks did. I'm hoping her life will still help all of us. There's still a lot of work to do."
Simmons, a Detroit masseuse, helped relieve some of Parks' pain during twice-weekly sessions that began in September. Parks suffered from dementia, drifted in and out of lucidity, but had a "firm grasp on life," Simmons said.
"It was such an honor to help a woman whose initiative helped us all," he said. "When she smiled, it was the biggest one you've ever seen in your life. Her smile could light up a roomful of angels."
At The Henry Ford in Dearborn, crowds of schoolchildren toured the 1948 General Motors Corp. yellow, green and white bus whose seat Parks refused to relinquish. The Cleveland Avenue bus was used to store scrap lumber until the museum bought it for $428,000 at a 2001 auction.
"It's really neat to come here and know she sat there," said Luke Fithian, 17, an eleventh-grader at Swartz Creek High School. "She didn't let people push her around. One person shouldn't have to move for another person. She stood up for her rights and that's a good thing."
Church members mourn loss
At St. Matthews AME Church, a satin black sash with a white lace border will remain draped for 30 days on Parks' favorite second-row pew.
It's a mourning ritual for all members who die -- an appropriate gesture for the quiet seamstress who viewed herself as no different than the rest of the ladies at Bible Study, say members of the small church on Petoskey near Joy.
"You knew she was the mother of the civil rights movement, but come Sunday, it was just Mrs. Parks coming to church," said Marjorie Shaw, 53, of Detroit, a longtime member.
Parks was a deaconess at the church, which honors her with two portraits on its walls. She began attending the church in 1957 and continued until she became too ill about five years ago. Old friends remembered her smile, her quiet laugh and dignity.
"It's hard. It's almost like she's not gone," said Donna Booth, 80, of Detroit. "Her presence has been here so long, it's hard to imagine, even though we knew this day was coming."
The modest church, which only seats 250, is far too small to accommodate everyone who wants to thank Parks and say goodbye, said its pastor, the Rev. Gloria J. Clark. The funeral won't be held there, but the congregation is planning its own memorial.
Already, though, Parks is an icon within her religion. In 2000, the African Methodist Episcopal Church rewrote its deaconess initiation ceremony to honor Parks. Deaconesses now say her name, alongside those of the Virgin Mary and other Biblical figures, when they are consecrated to give communion, Cousin said.
Parks also worked with children, who flocked to her, Clark said.
"She never needed to be out in front," said Clark. "She just wanted to help."
Bernice Jones, 65, said Parks would often wander up to choir members and inquire about their health. That was her kindly way of asking why they hadn't been in church the previous Sunday, Jones remembered, laughing.
Detroit News staff writers David Shepardson and Darren Nichols contributed to this report. You can reach Joel Kurth at (313) 222-2610 or jkurth@ detnews.com.
Ken Drogowski hangs a mourning crepe on the bus Rosa Parks rode in 1955. The bus was used to store scrap lumber until The Henry Ford in Dearborn bought it in 2001.
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