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Then there are those who garner respect by the skills and finesse they either innately possess or had the savvy to cultivate. The recently retired Rev. Wallace S. Hartsfield fits this category. For years now, I’ve had the pleasure of quoting him.
Hartsfield, longtime pastor at Metropolitan Missionary Baptist Church, embodies attributes too often lacking in Kansas City “leaders.”
Foremost is Hartsfield’s control over his own emotions. He knows the difference between speaking with emotion and speaking solely from emotion. Call it choosing to work from the head over the heart. For others, their oratory is flailing arms, rendering their efforts ineffective.
Similarly, some never learn the difference between slights that occurred in the past and barriers that exist today. Everything seems to be in the present tense, indistinguishable especially in the dicey land of perception. Hartsfield would delve into personal pain to make a point. But he knows when this is effective and when it is not. His pain is not calling the shots. He is.
An often-told story was from his childhood in rural Georgia. The day he disobeyed a grandmother who attempted to shield him from the violent horrors of that day’s racism.
But he peeked outside and saw the body of a black man being dragged through the black section of the segregated town. He could describe the pickup truck in exact detail; the fenders where the men stood in triumph with their kill and what remained of the man’s body.
The black man had been shot, hanged, the body used for target practice, castrated and dragged though town as an example.
Yet, despite such searing memories, Hartsfield knows the difference between a tactic and a strategy.
He understood that if you have access to the board room, you take the conversation there. And you stay in the room. Standing outside protesting on the sidewalk is not a position of power, not the preferred one at least, from which to make a point.
In 2001, I wrote how Hartsfield and other ministers were successfully working with area corporations on minority hiring, widening opportunities for smaller, minority-owned suppliers and urging stores to treat urban customers with the same respect afforded suburban dwellers.
In the early 1990s, Hartsfield was among the first to be candid on the lack of cooperation between black and Latino leaders here. He noted a shared history of discrimination, and added: “But there is racism between the two groups.” Then, he urged action: “It is dangerous and we need to deal with it,” he said.
He was as forthright about other issues as well. In 1996, tensions escalated when police shot an African-American young man and then found themselves confronted by a mob at 27th Street and Benton Boulevard. Hartsfield’s home was in the area. But in the aftermath he offered an open door to younger voices, noting : “They are much better able to interpret what the young people are feeling.”
That is significant. Many leaders are focused on sustaining fiefdoms, on maintaining stature as the go-to voice for a community, a project, a neighborhood.
This is why Hartsfield’s greatest legacy will be with Kansas City for generations. He built human legacies through those he influenced. Church members no doubt are the most numerous. But his work also included other clergy — he is often referred to as “a preacher’s preacher” — as well as business people and politicians, even the ones he may have chastised.
And yes, I can attest, reporters were touched by his leadership as well.
To reach Mary Sanchez, call 816-234-4752 or send email to msanchez@kcstar.com.
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