1972 — Vincent Leaphart, a West Philadelphia handyman and high-school dropout distrustful of education, medical science and the criminal-justice system, gathers followers in Powelton Village, where he forms a “back-to-nature” cult.
The bills just keep on coming.
EXPERIENCE and common sense ought to spare the city of Philadelphia from ever facing another situation remotely like its confrontation with MOVE 25 years ago.
WHEN THOMAS AND BETTY MAPP came home to a house rebuilt by an incompetent, or just plain crooked, contractor in the Osage Avenue neighborhood destroyed in the MOVE debacle, they found cedar siding sliding off the walls and fire spitting out of electrical outlets.
The drive-by judgments of angry protesters, who used to roll through the block shouting "murderers!" and "baby killers!" at the remaining residents have subsided too.
1985: While her husband met with Mayor Goode on the MOVE conflict, Jannie Blackwell was at home on Melville Street near Locust, two miles from the MOVE house, when the bomb was dropped on it.
1985: Bond, as president of the neighborhood group United Residents of the 6200 Block of Osage Avenue, met with city officials seeking their help to deal with the MOVE house, whose residents barraged neighbors with harangues over roof-mounted loudspeakers. Bond and his neighbors said they felt ignored...
POLICE OFFICER Charles "Reds" Mellor was in the alley behind the MOVE house with his partner, James Berghaier, when the fire began. He stood in the middle of the alley to provide cover as Berghaier rescued Birdie Africa. He coaxed Ramona Africa down the alley and placed her under arrest.
PHILADELPHIA POLICE Officer James Berghaier was in the alley behind the MOVE house when the fire began. He braved gunfire and sloshed through waist-deep water to pull 13-year-old Birdie Africa to safety.
THE DAY THE CITY bombed the MOVE compound, lawyer Carl E. Singley was home for some long-forgotten reason.
ON THE NIGHT before Osage Avenue erupted in flames, Bennie Swans made one last-ditch effort to talk with MOVE members.
WILLIAM RICHMOND was the fire commissioner during the siege on Osage Avenue.
Louise James, also lost her son Frank James Africa, in the conflgration that day.
O'Dowd and Gibbons, veteran newsmen, were behind the yellow tape on one of the darkest days in the city's history, elbow-to-elbow with cops and firefighters as the much-anticipated showdown with MOVE took one unthinkable turn after another.