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No Easy Victories: African Liberation and American Activists over a Half Century, 1950-2000

Edited by William Minter,
Gail Hovey, and Charles Cobb Jr.
Published by Africa World Press.
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More Interviews

1. Bill Sutherland
2. George Houser
3. E. S. Reddy
4. Charlene Mitchell
5. Mary Jane Patterson
6. Ben Magubane
7. Robert Van Lierop
8. Prexy Nesbitt
9. Jennifer Davis
10. Geri Augusto
11. Sylvia Hill, 2003
12. Edgar Lockwood
13. Cherri Waters
14. Dumisani Kumalo
15. Frank Beeman
16. Sylvia Hill, 2004

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Interviews for No Easy Victories

The following text is the transcript of one of the interviews that was part of the reseearch for the book No Easy Victories. With the assistance of Aluka (aluka.org), sixteen of the interviews were transcribed and prepared for presentation on the web. Each transcript was reviewed by the interviewee, and a short introduction prepared by one of the No Easy Victories editors.


Ted Lockwood

" It was very easy to sort of say, well, the liberation struggle, they're the heroes. They are the good people, and I don't want to hear anything bad about them. The more I stayed with it, the more I felt sympathy for everybody else. How difficult it is, really, to have a peaceful society as well as a just society come out of this." — Ted :Lockwood

Introduction

Lawyer, Episcopal priest, and activist Edgar (Ted) Lockwood is from a comfortably well-off and conventionally conservative New England family background. He went to law school after serving on a Navy destroyer during World War II. After only a few years as a lawyer, he went back to school to study theology in 1957, at the age of 37.

From the beginning, he says, his activist theological convictions were tied to the issue of racism. His participation in the Selma-Montgomery march in 1964, as part of a delegation who flew down from Massachusetts in response to the call for support by Martin Luther King Jr., solidified the commitment. But it wasn't until the end of the 1960s that he became involved with international African issues, beginning with an Institute for Policy Studies research project on the policies of church denominations for handling their investments.

Lockwood soon became one of the persistent agitators within the Episcopal Church for full economic disengagement from apartheid, working with his close friend Bill Johnston of the Episcopal Churchmen for South Africa.[1] He made his first trip to South Africa in 1971 as an observer when the South African regime placed Gonville ffrench-Beytagh, the Anglican dean of the cathedral in Johannesburg, on trial under the Terrorism Act.

In 1972 Lockwood was asked to become the director of the Washington Office on Africa (WOA), jointly sponsored by the American Committee on Africa, major church denominations, and a few trade unions to coordinate lobbying efforts on Africa in Washington. He served as director until 1980, when he was succeeded by Jean Sindab.

Southern Africa, during this tumultuous period, saw the collapse of the Portuguese colonial empire, Cold War intervention in Angola, the Soweto uprising in South Africa, and the escalation of guerrilla war accompanied by negotiations leading to the transformation of white Rhodesia into independent Zimbabwe in 1980. In Washington, Richard Nixon won a second term in 1972 only to exit in disgrace in 1974 after the Watergate scandal. Jimmy Carter became president in 1977, seeming, at least at first, to offer a new openness to accommodation with Third World revolution.[2]

Nevertheless, the status quo option of collaboration with the white regimes in Southern Africa had far more weight in Washington, in Congress and the executive branch alike, than did the activists' advocacy of sanctions and support for liberation struggle. In Congress, Representative Charles Diggs spearheaded advocacy for Africa through the Congressional Black Caucus and the House Subcommittee on Africa, and a few other liberal representatives and senators could be counted on as well. Senator Dick Clark chaired the Subcommittee on Africa in the Senate and sponsored the 1976 amendment barring U.S. covert intervention in Angola. But, even after the new surge of public interest in South Africa following Soweto and the death of Stephen Biko, and the founding of the new African American lobby group TransAfrica in 1977, mainstream Democrats and Republicans in Congress resisted sanctions against South Africa. One of the few early victories was a 1978 amendment that barred Export-Import Bank lending to South Africa unless the secretary of state determined that the company was following nonracial policies.

In this context, even getting the U.S. government to comply with international sanctions against the white minority regime in Rhodesia and to keep those sanctions in place was an uphill battle. This reflected both the continuing strength of white racist sympathies on the U.S. political scene and the complexities of political divisions, war, and negotiations in Zimbabwe, a country with which few Americans were familiar. Rhodesia became a major focus for the work of WOA during Lockwood's tenure as director. Despite the efforts of a few scholars in recent years, researchers have not yet explored in depth either U.S. official policy during this period nor U.S. connections to different Rhodesian and Zimbabwean political forces.[3]

After leaving the Washington Office on Africa, Lockwood continued his involvement with Southern African issues on several fronts. In the early 1980s he produced a slide show called Amandla, with filmmaker Peter Davis, [4] on the history of resistance in South Africa. The slideshow was widely used by U.S. activists throughout the decade. From 1983 to 1985, as discussed in this interview, he served as a regional representative for the American Friends Service Committee (AFSC), a position based in Zimbabwe. There he focused on fostering communication among grassroots groups in the Southern African region and providing information to the supporters of Southern African liberation in the United States. In 1988 he published a study book on South Africa for the National Council of Churches. In 1988-89 he served briefly as acting director of the Washington Office on Africa during a transitional period. He was part of a team of observers at the elections of Zimbabwe/Rhodesia in 1980 and was a " permanent observer" for the Namibia Council of Churches in the UN- supervised election process of 1989, when he was in charge of the observer team in the Tsumeb/Grootfeldt/Kombat area.

Since 1991, Lockwood has lived in Falmouth, Massachusetts, where he continues to be engaged in local and church social justice initiatives.

The archives of the Washington Office on Africa from its founding through the 1980s are housed at Yale University Library, partly in the Sterling Memorial Library and partly in the Divinity School Special Collections. There is an extensive finding aid available online at http://webtext.library.yale.edu/xml2html/divinity.102.con.html. The archives of the American Friends Service Committee, including reports from Bill Sutherland, Ted Lockwood, and other AFSC representatives in Africa, are available at the organization's headquarters in Philadelphia (see http://www.afsc.org/locations/archives.htm for contact information).

The interview transcribed here focuses primarily on Lockwood's background and early involvement, with shorter sections on lobbying efforts at the Washington Office on Africa, particularly on sanctions against Rhodesia in the 1970s, and on his time as the AFSC Southern Africa International Affairs Representative in Zimbabwe from 1983 to 1985.

William Minter
March 2005

 

Transcript

Interviewee: Edgar (Ted) Lockwood
Interviewer: David Goodman
Location: Durham, North Carolina, USA (by telephone)
Date: November 16, 2004

Q: Let me begin at the beginning and ask you to tell me where you were born and grew up.

Q: Well, I was born August 9, 1920 in Connecticut.

LOCKWOOD: And that is where you grew up?

Q: I grew up in Greenwich. I went to Greenwich Country Day School. I was four years earlier than George Bush Sr. That dates me. And after graduating from Greenwich Country Day School in 1934, I went to Hotchkiss, also in Connecticut. I was active in the dramatic club there. And then I went to Yale, and was in the class of 1942. And so I graduated with honors in American history and won a prize for the best essay in American history that year.

I went after that to the United States Navy, and served on a destroyer in the Pacific Fleet for about three years, more or less. I was in the Navy until 1946. And then I retired from the Navy completely in 1957 when I went to seminary. But I was part of the Naval Reserves from July 1942, after I graduated from Yale, until I resigned in 1957. So I was then, by that time, a lieutenant commander. Anyway, I went to Virginia Law School in June 1946, and I graduated in October of 1949, I think it was.

I was on the law review there, briefly, and when I got out of law school I took the law exams for Connecticut and New York. I got my first job in the law in New York City at Baldwin, Todd and Lefferts, which was a small firm of maybe 25 lawyers. I began practicing law in New York City and two years later I did get a job with a firm in Stamford, Connecticut and did work on estates and trusts, and was also in charge of the tax work that the firm did. It became Drury and Pierson, eventually, but it was Drury, Pierson, Ware and Pringle in my days.

I was made a partner in the firm in 1957, but I wanted to go to seminary. I had been involved in the church in Stamford, and decided I wanted to go to seminary, much to my wife's disgust. But I went to the Virginia Theological Seminary in Alexandria and spent three, four years there.

Q: As a full-time student?

LOCKWOOD: As a full-time student. So I graduated from there with cum laude in, I think it was 1960.

Q: So you became a full partner in a law firm, and then promptly quit?

LOCKWOOD: Then I promptly quit. I didn't want to keep on being a lawyer the rest of my life. I decided I was much more excited about theology. I was pretty much influenced by the dean of the cathedral in New York, the name was Jim Pike.[5] Now Pike was a very controversial figure, but he was very much involved in social concerns. And so I went to consult him about it all, and he said it really doesn't matter whether you're a clergy or you're a layperson. You've decided to be a minister, and to serve God in your life. So I had a nice chat with him down in New York City at the cathedral. And my wife was pretty cold to Pike's encouragement of me. But he advised me that it was a good idea, that the church needed good people, and so I went.

Anyhow, when I graduated from Virginia, I was in the diocese of Connecticut. And so I went to work as a curate at Trinity Church, a large parish at 120 Sigourney Street in Hartford. I was there two years as an assisting priest. And then I went over—the man who was in charge of the parish said, well, you need your own church. So he wrote a letter for me to the bishop of Massachusetts, and the bishop of New Hampshire, and I received a very cordial letter from both of them. And I was chosen to be the rector of the Church of the Messiah in Woods Hole, Massachusetts, which is part of Falmouth. That's down on the upper part or western side of Cape Cod.

And it was a scientific community, because it had the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution, and the Marine Biological Laboratory. And the Department of Fisheries Laboratory. So there were very few men who were scientists that were willing to be religious.

I was very interested in the old question of racism from the beginning. I had written my prize-winning essay at Yale on a man named Samuel Gridley Howe, who had been converted to the abolitionist cause in Boston. He had been involved in starting the ministry of helping blind people, which became the Perkins School for the Blind. And then he became converted to joining the abolition crowd with Theodore Parker and various others. He ended up putting money into John Brown's raid on Harper's Ferry, and he had to flee to Canada when the Congress got word of all this. And it was a pretty difficult time for him. But it was a fascinating story to tell.

So, in any case, when I got to be the rector of the Church of the Messiah, I became interested in the issue of fair housing. And took up that question, and started an interest group, a group of people in my church. And the NAACP[6] called up, and said—the head of the NAACP for the Cape said, could he be a part of the discussion. Of course I said " of course." So he came, and the head of the school board, Frank Simmons, who was an African American, and so was Walter Stephenson, and they came. And so we managed to get together a pledge campaign in which people pledged to be willing to sell their house, or rent it to people, on a nondiscriminatory basis. So that was how I got into racism in public policy.

Q: Let me just back up to the roots of your interest in any sort of social concerns. What do you trace that to, and what is your earliest memory of having any concerns?

LOCKWOOD: Well, I think really the call of Martin Luther King in I think it was 1964, if I recall correctly, that he was making this march from Selma to Montgomery. And the Diocese of Massachusetts under Bishop Anson Phelps Stokes hired a plane and there were 90 of us that went down south to take part in the last day or so of that march. And so we flew down to Montgomery, and did the last bit of that march. And I encountered white racism right there in front of the Capitol. And I asked somebody on the street where could I get a drink of water, and he pointed to the sewer, and said you can get it down there. It was suddenly the impact of the hate that I experienced there that made me not a veteran of the wars, but increased my commitment to do something about it.

Q: And prior to that, at Yale, you wrote a paper about an abolitionist. So had you been interested in social issues from an early age?

LOCKWOOD: I don't think so. My family was really quite Republican. There was a teacher at Hotchkiss whose name was John McChesney, a very delightful, wonderful person. And he was a socialist in the sense of Norman Thomas. And I wrote a letter to the editor of the Hotchkiss newspaper, commenting about something that a student had written for the school paper. [The student] was the son of Thurman Arnold, a legal scholar in Franklin Roosevelt's New Deal cabinet. I wrote this rather sophomoric letter complaining that it wasn't good for Hotchkiss to have people writing left-wing articles.

So I got a call from John McChesney and [he] said you seem to be against socialism. Why? And so I had to reply. And a man on my corridor, who was Dr. Bickford, said you're acting like somebody who is already in his grave. How come you are so conservative when you are so young?

So I got to be real good friends with John McChesney, and I signed up for the Socialist Party, actually. And I've been a member of the Socialist Party, or Democratic Socialist Party I should say, which simply at the present time is not a party separate from the Democratic Party, but attempts to be a progressive force within the Democratic Party. I still belong to the Democratic Socialist Party, although as I say, it's really not a party. It's a tendency.

Q: So from high school, really, your activism traces to that.

LOCKWOOD: Yes, in a small way. Yes.

Q: And you mentioned your parents, or your father was a Republican. What did he do?

LOCKWOOD: My father was an officer at the Guaranty Trust Company on Fifth Avenue, and my mother went into interior decorating. And we lived a fairly good life in Round Hill in Greenwich. And Greenwich is really an extremely Republican town, actually. And I have a friend or two still there, and they are all right-wing people, I guess. Pretty much so.

Q: What was the most radicalizing experience that you had as a young man? Was it that march in Montgomery?

LOCKWOOD: It was the march on Montgomery that I really, from that point on, I really saw face to face the raw nature of racism, and that spurred me on. And I think I learned a lot from a friend of mine who was a marine biologist who was interested in the NAACP locally, and helped to guide my thought about what to do about it. He was willing to test out sites with regard to racism in the real estate market. So he was a big help to me. He subsequently moved up in the marine fisheries to become the head of the station in Miami. He's down there now. He was a great friend to me and a big, big help, and I took part in finding housing for black welfare families who were sent to the Cape by white racists in Arkansas.

This is at the time of my coming to be in Woods Hole, that was 1962. There were a group of people in Little Rock, Arkansas who decided that they were going to send a delegation of people from Little Rock to Hyannis [on Cape Cod]. And when they were to come to Hyannis, they were to ask for Mr. Kennedy [President John F. Kennedy, whose family had a compound in Hyannis]. And then Mr. Kennedy was going to find them housing, and a better life. They were most of them welfare mothers, and the local council of churches took up that challenge. And so I was one of the people who tried to wrestle with that problem. And ultimately I bought a house for a woman who had five children, and so that was what I did at that time. It was a pain in the neck later when I moved to Washington.

Q: And when was this?

LOCKWOOD: I think this was 1962 when these—well, they called them the reverse freedom riders. There were nine families who came from Little Rock, and it was a terrible cruel joke on these people that they were sent up to Hyannis with the message that Mr. Kennedy was going to take care of all their problems. So they landed there thinking they were going to be put in housing, and of course the church people had to turn to and find a solution along with the NAACP. So I became friends with Eugenia Fortes,[7] who was a Cape Verdean and who was head of the NAACP, and so I was on the board of NAACP.

And we had to work things out for this woman and her five children. And I found a place, and I bought it for a small amount of money. And she became quite politicized and became head of the tenant movement on the Cape. She and her children stayed on in this house that I bought, and I was leaving—I left the parish work in I guess it was 1967. I left for Washington. It wasn't until, I would imagine, 1970 or so before I finally found a way to sell that property, and the woman and her children moved out to other housing. Anyway, I tried to do what I could with the situation that came up. I really didn't lose any money in the end.

Q: Now what made you move to Washington?

LOCKWOOD: Well, I thought I was interested in social issues, as I said. I got involved in this issue of racism and housing, but I felt I didn't have any real background in social problems, or social issues. And I had an opportunity to go to the Institute for Policy Studies.[8] So I went to become a student there, and they only had students for one year. And they had about 20 of us who had been part of what everybody called " the movement." And so I was a student there, and attended a number of classes that were taught, if that was the right word. They were more like seminars, of people who were talking about current problems. And housing was one of them.

There was a man who was interested in the future of the capitalist system, and he talked about the difficulties of economic theory, and how you get things going again. I've sort of forgotten his name. He was related to one of the judges in New York State. Anyway, that's all by the by, and eventually—well, what happened was that the directors of the Institute for Policy Studies, and that was Marcus Raskin and Dick Barnet. There were a number of fellows—Arthur Waskow, and Michael Macoby. They were all of them what I would call progressive Jewish people who were very bright. Most of them had served as congressional staff. And they thought that the Democratic Party didn't have a future unless it rethought the whole liberalism thing.

So they were anxious to try to construct projects that would assist the transition of the economy and of the state toward a more progressive position. And so it was a kind of new left institution. I think it's still going, actually. But they asked me how does the church make up its decisions about investing money. Do you just make money on money? Or do you have any kind of ethical guidelines? I said I haven't the faintest notion, but I'll try to find out.

So I then went around, took it on as a task as I was then attached to Virginia Seminary as a student as well. And John Fletcher, who was in charge of their social issues portfolio, so to speak, he was my guide and mentor. And while I was going to classes at the Institute for Policy Studies, I did interviews with the treasurers of a number of denominations: the Baptists, Congregationalists, and the Presbyterians. I think I interviewed Roger Murray at TIAA-CREF.[9] And with the exception of the Baptists and Methodists, there were practically no moral or ethical guidelines. The Baptists and the Methodists didn't invest in companies that were making liquor or cigarettes, or tobacco. Those were the two things that they were blocked from investing in. The Episcopal Church made money on money without any social or moral screen.

So at that time there was a group called ESCRU, the Episcopal Society for Cultural and Racial Cultural Unity.[10] And I belonged to it, and sent money to it. I had been following some of their objections to Southern racism within the church. And so I went to their convention in St. Louis, as I recall, and I suggested that the society should try to set up some kind of rule of social values in investment. And they thought it was a great idea. And so I then became the investment committee, so to speak, to go around and try to persuade people that you could have a social screen and still earn money on your investments.

Q: And this is now what year are we speaking of?

LOCKWOOD: Well, I've written an article for the Episcopal church history journal.[11] I don't whether you've seen it or not.

Q: No.

LOCKWOOD: Well, unfortunately I don't have a copy with me. But Richard Knight has a copy of it, and I'm sure Bill Minter has a copy of it. Anyway, what we did was to challenge the Episcopal Church on the issue of lending money to South Africa through three banks with which they did business. One of those banks was Guaranty Trust Company, and one of them was Chemical Bank, and Chase Manhattan Bank, and Citibank. So they had taken part in a consortium loan to the South African government of something like $40 million. Not very much money, really. [But they were] doing something that assisted a regime—we didn't call it a government, but a regime—that was on the face of it an out-and-out racist regime.

So when the Episcopal Church took up the question of what to do about this investment, or investments, the financial committee of the church, the executive committee, was holding a hearing inviting the bankers to come up and talk to them about what their point of view was about apartheid. And at the same time, they were hearing from a number of people including, I think, George Houser,[12]  if I'm not mistaken. Other testimony was heard from Elizabeth Franklin, a white activist in exile; C. Edward Crowther, the Anglican bishop of Kimberly and Kuruman in South Africa, who had been deported; and Gladstone Ntlabati, a Methodist minister working in Atlanta for the Chief Albert Luthuli Fund.

And Bill Johnston of the Episcopal Churchmen for South Africa, and ESCRU, the Episcopal Society for Cultural and Racial Unity, we decided we'd hold a hearing of our own, which we called the people's hearing. It was held in the lobby of 815 Second Avenue [Episcopal Church headquarters in New York]. And we had 40 or 50 speakers who came and talked about what their experience was of apartheid. Some of them were African. I'm not exactly sure who, but there were several refugees, white refugees from South Africa, as well as several Africans.

Q: And when was this that we're speaking of? What year was this?

LOCKWOOD: It was held on May 23, 1969. The next year, 1970, the presiding bishop, whose name was John Hines, appointed a number of us to be on a committee of the Episcopal Church, which came to be called the Committee on Social Criteria for Investment. And Bishop Hines named a man who was a classmate of mine at Virginia Law School—his name was Robert Potter—to be the chairman of it.

Rob Potter was one of the partners in Patterson, Belknap and Webb. And so he was part of a Wall Street firm that was engaged in representing Dow Jones and the Wall Street Journal and so on. So it was somebody from way within the ruling class, so to speak. And you ask somebody like that to adjudicate what is a social criteria that's acceptable in view of the views and values of the Episcopal Church. I was on that committee for three years I think, and I persuaded Goler Butcher, who was counsel to Charlie Diggs, the congressman from Michiganm to join that. And there were a number of other people who joined that group.

And in those days we took on the issue of racism and investment by challenging General Motors Company to leave South Africa. That is to say, to divest themselves of their direct investment in South Africa, and their factories, and everything like that. And that took place in May of 1971, a challenge to the General Motors corporate meeting. And it made the New York Times. It made the Wall Street Journal. It made the Washington Post, and the New York Times carried a page one story about it. So it was part of the launch of a public campaign that affected the church. We got only 1.26 percent of the vote, but it was an extraordinary event in view of the newspaper coverage, that an institution so completely involved in the capitalist system should make a challenge like that.

And Bishop Hines drew all kinds of flak from that challenge, from his constituency. But nevertheless, he stood firm on it, and we kept on, as this funny committee. The American Baptist Convention was another shareholder that went to the General Motors meeting, and spoke in favor of our resolution. And so did the United Auto Workers.

And the other issue that we got involved in was copper mining in Puerto Rico. There was two copper mining companies, Newmont and AMAX, which were going to open up a huge open-pit copper mine in the center of the Puerto Rican mountains near Utuado, Larer, and Ajunta, historically the place where the culture of the island was born. Bob Potter went outside the church national staff and hired Hugh White and Jesse Christman of the Detroit Industrial Mission to add strength to the mission. They acted as extra staff. And we all, with the Methodist Church, flew a group of people down to San Juan, and we held a public hearing on the advisability of opening copper mines in the center of Puerto Rico.

And we had testimony from the Communist Party, the Socialist Party, the Puerto Rican party, whatever it is—the nationalist party.[13] And it went on for like five days. It was front page news in the San Juan papers. So eventually Newmont and this other company decided they were not going to go into copper mining in Puerto Rico if this was the kind of public opposition that there was. In fact, we had opposition from the chairman of the mining commission of Puerto Rico. So it was very successful in raising that issue. People were able to show that the tailings from the copper mine would ruin the plankton in the seas in the Caribbean. I don't know how true that is, but I think it was. So that was another thing we did.

I stayed on that committee for about three years, and then I got involved in another venture, which was to assist the dean of the cathedral in Johannesburg, Gonville ffrench‑ Beytagh, who was a dear friend of mine and Bill Johnston's. Bill Johnston, I don't know whether you ever met him—

Q: Yes. Yes, I met Bill a number of times.

LOCKWOOD: And he persuaded me that the church should send somebody to be with Gonville ffrench-Beytagh in his moment of crisis because he was being charged with an offense of terrorism against the state of South Africa.

Q: Now prior to this you had never been to Africa?

LOCKWOOD: I'd never been to South Africa. However, in 1962 I had met Bishop Zulu at my first clergy meeting of the diocese of Massachusetts. He was the bishop of a diocese in the Transkei who needed support for his educational work. I sent him some money for slide projectors through Bill Johnston of ECSA, the Episcopal Churchmen for South Africa.

Q: And then your next connection with Africa or South Africa was this May 1969 conference.

LOCKWOOD: Well, yes, as I say we took this issue of loans to South Africa as part of our understanding of our commitment to fight racism wherever we found it in the church. And that's how I got started in doing that.

Q: So Bill Johnston urged you to go to Johannesburg.

LOCKWOOD: He urged me to go to South Africa. He got money together, $2,000. I was very much against going. I said I wanted to spend the summer painting, and doing that. I had been going to a little art school. So I'm a man of many vocations, you see, a very unstable person. And so Bill called me up and said you've got to go, you've got to go.

There had been a group of three people who had gone, that Bishop Hines had sent in May of 1971. He sent Bishop Creighton from Washington, and Judge Bill Booth from Brooklyn, New York, and Frank Sayre, the dean of the Washington Cathedral, who was a grandson of Woodrow Wilson. They went to attend this trial of Gonville ffrench-Beytagh, but what happened was that they arrived, and they discovered that the trial date was not going to be then. It was going to be the second of August. So Bill Johnston was beside himself. He wanted them to go back, and wanted John Hines to go in person. And Bishop Hines flatly refused to do anything further. He said he'd done whatever he could do, and he thought it made a mark down there by sending Creighton and Sayre and Booth down there.

So Bill called me up, and I kept fending him off, and I said well, Bill, I'm just by myself. I can't do a thing. You have to have some kind of sponsor. So he got my Committee on Social Criteria to say that they would send me. He got the National Council of Churches to say that I would be there for them. And the International Commission of Jurists. And Amnesty International. They all endorsed my going there. And they all put up some kind of money. I don't know. I went off with $2,000 and landed on my birthday, August 9th, in Johannesburg.

And by that time the trial had been going on for a week. But I managed to go there, and to be a presence to help Gonville in his moment of distress. And so I stayed as long as I could there. And I went on a trip to Pietermaritzburg where there was another Terrorism Act trial of 12 people who were on trial for treason, really. They were members of what was called the Unity Party, which was a somewhat literary kind of worker-oriented. Marxist, but it was Trotskyite.

And so I went down there to Durban and then Pietermaritzburg, and spent a couple of weeks down there while the dean's trial was in recess, because they were taking the testimony of a woman named Alison Norman who was a wealthy young woman, a friend of Dean ffrench-Beytagh. The state was claiming in the trial that she had substituted for this organization called Defense and Aid, which had been banned. It was banned in 1965, so the dean was accused of taking the place of Defense and Aid and giving money to the liberation movements. And of course he was taking care of humanitarian necessities of the families of the imprisoned leaders of the liberation movements and other people held in detention or house arrest.

Q: Now had you been in contact with any African liberation movement representatives prior to this?

LOCKWOOD: I don't recall actually knowing people in the liberation movements in 1971. I don't think I did.

Q: But what was your impression of groups like the ANC [African National Congress] before coming into contact with them?

LOCKWOOD: Well, I didn't know anything about them to speak of, except that they were alleged to be communists. And I think I had been in touch with Buthelezi.[14] He was in this country at the time of the General Motors resolution. I saw him in Washington, DC, in his room at the Dupont Hotel. And he wanted me to persuade Bob Potter that he didn't want just to get General Motors out of South Africa, he wanted to get General Motors into his homeland so that he would have a proper economic base in Zululand.

I was so innocent that I said oh, that sounds like a wonderful idea. So I called up Bob Potter about it, and he said don't touch any of that stuff. We don't want to get involved with that stuff. So we didn't. But no, when I went down to South Africa, I had a briefing with the people from the American Committee on Africa, and they said well you must not just go to your church friends, you must go and support these liberation people who are on trial in Pietermaritzburg. And so I said okay, I'll try to do that. So I did.

And when I was on my way back from South Africa, which took place I guess in October —I guess I stayed in Africa for eight weeks, more or less, and the ninth week I spent going home through Dar es Salaam. So when I got to Dar es Salaam, I went and interviewed [Joaquim] Chissano who was then the Frelimo [15]representative in Dar es Salaam, and talked to him. He told me about what they were trying to do in terms of getting people educated who were in Tanzania. And I think I talked to the ANC and the PAC[16]   there. I don't remember much about what I learned in that time, 1971. And then I flew to Zambia, to Lusaka, and I was staying in the Intercontinental Hotel there. And so I said, where are the liberation movements? I didn't know any better than that.

So I got in a taxi, and I said I want to go to the liberation movements. They took me down to the liberation movements headquarters which they had in a kind of compound. And everybody was scared shitless. They said how did you get here? I went in and said hello to SWAPO and ANC and they said you shouldn't be here. Where are you staying? We'll come up. So the ANC people sent a delegation to meet in my hotel room. I think there were three or four people. One of them was a very sedate and dignified older person. I don't remember what his name was. One of the people was Duma Nokwe, who was the secretary of the ANC at that time.

And so they pumped me for what was going on in South Africa. And I told them what I knew about the trials, and what I had done, and what I had seen. And we all had a beer in my room. And then this very dignified man said Comrade Lockwood, you may think that what you have said is of no importance, and that you have only told us some little bits and pieces of things. But it is like a person being in the middle of a desert, and seeing a place where there is water. And you have given us water, and we have drunk it with great pleasure.

So it was my first chance to hear some kind of eloquence that was also quite touching in a way. So I felt renewed. I really didn't know very much about the liberation movement at all, but I was favorably impressed with them. And then I came home.

And in 1971, in November, Bill Johnston arranged for me to make a presentation to the Fourth Committee of the United Nations General Assembly, which is focused on issues of decolonization. So I made a report on my visiting these trials, the dean's trial, and the one in Pietermaritzburg, and Bill Johnston made a copy of that and sent it out to people. And Christianity in Crisis published a copy of it. And the United Nations published a copy of my speech too in the Objective Justice. Objective Justice, I think that's what they called their magazine on anti-apartheid work within the United Nations.

 So that's how I got launched on South Africa, apartheid, and all that.

Q: What was your impression of Africa?

LOCKWOOD: My impression of South Africa was that it was one of the most beautiful places I'd ever seen in my life. But the situation of African people was that they were being held in prison. And that here were white people who were maybe 10 or 15 percent of the population, and they held onto something like 90 percent of the land, was theirs. And it just seemed to me that it was totally unjust and it could not be continued in that fashion, and that there would be a revolution.

And of course, that's what Dean ffrench-Beytagh thought, and he was—what shall I say—na´ve enough to be saying that out loud to people like the Black Sash and various other people. The South African security branch had a number of paid spies, including a young man who was a friend of ffrench-Beytagh and who was in line to go to seminary as a student. And he agreed to make notes of what the dean said. He actually was given a radio tape recorder to carry around with him, and he was to make reports to the security branch of everything that the dean said. And he was the major witness for the prosecution.

I had never lived in a country where you had the sense of state police constantly following you, or could be tracking you. And so it was very, very tight security everywhere you went. Bill [Johnston] had warned me not to say anything, to be discreete about what notes I took. So I sent them back very carefully. As for the rest of it, I didn't see very much except South Africa in those early days.

And of course, Zambia was very beautiful. It was springtime in South Africa, and there were beautiful trees and flowers. The same thing was true in Zambia. But I had the feeling in Zambia of a very fragile kind of situation where the infrastructure was very modern, but there was a great difficulty running the economy and so on. I didn't have much of a feeling about Zambia.

Q: I thought you went to Dar, but you also went to Zambia on that trip?

LOCKWOOD: Yes, I went to Dar, and I don't know. I saw a soccer game or so. And I did talk to the ANC people who were in their own little office, a scruffy office in Dar. I talked to Chissano. I don't know who else I talked to. I never liked the PAC people for some reason. I thought they were very kind of—I think they treated me with very little respect, or they were quite suspicious of me I think. And I've had that difficulty with PAC in times past as well, in later times. That the Pan African Congress had many internal battles and so on. I found them very unpleasant people to deal with. I don't know just exactly why, whether it was my personality or theirs. But they treated me rudely, I would say.

Q: So let's fast forward to the '80s, since that's the period of the focus here. You can sort of summarize the '70s, your activities in the '70s and then we'll dive into the '80s.

LOCKWOOD: Well, I became the director of the Washington Office on Africa in 1972. And I was in that post until 1981, I believe. It was 1980 or 1981. So I was in that office for eight years.

Q: So you had left the church then, at that point?

LOCKWOOD: I was not active as a clergyman, except that I did—well, I won't go into that, but I belonged to an Episcopal Church called St. Stephen and the Incarnation Church on Newton Street and 16th Street [in Washington, DC]. And Bill Wendt was the rector there. He was quite a famous fellow. He was a street pastor, roamed the streets. He had been in New York City.[17]

So after the great riots that followed the death of Martin Luther King in April of 1968, there was a hue and a cry that the churches had to act to make reparations to the black community by allocating 25 percent of their budget to the Black United Front. I proposed at a parish committee to consider this request that the church should transfer and deed over its land and building to a joint development committee to be owned jointly by an organization that would be formed, being one-third church and two-thirds community. And the buildings and the grounds would be devoted to the well-being of the community. It passed, believe it or not. Nobody could figure it out. Anyway, I spent a lot of time working that out, and eventually it became a corporation called Urban Village, and ultimately it resulted in garden-style apartments being built around the church. And I think we had 75 residents. And it became mostly subsidized, and I won't go into all of the details of where it is now, but it's still in existence. And I had a lot more utopian hopes for it. But anyway, it was an attempt to rebuild community within the black community, or I should say the neighborhood. Black community and white community, really at the margin of it. So I was the father of that proposal, and saw it accomplished. It's still there. Still going through changes.

But as I say, I became the director of the Washington Office on Africa in 1972. I resigned from my post in the Episcopal Church's committee on social criteria for investment. I just couldn't take the time to do it. And then in I think it was 1980, I told the board of directors that I wanted to retire from being a lobbyist at the Washington Office on Africa, and wanted to do something different.

One of my assistants at the Washington Office on Africa was a man by the name of Maghan Keita.[18] He was working at that time for the American Friends Service Committee, and he said that they were going to look for somebody to be their Southern Africa international affairs representative. He was a dear friend of mine. And he said that I was his candidate for going.

And so I was chosen by the American Friends Service Committee to be their international affairs representative in Southern Africa. I went in February of 1983, by the way with practically no briefing as to what to do other than to think something up in the realm of communication among the countries that were member of SADCC [the Southern Africa Development Conference].

Q: Well, before we plunge in here to the AFSC thing, what was the key major focus of your work at Washington Office on Africa?

LOCKWOOD: Well, my feeling was that because we had a very small constituency, we needed to concentrate on one issue and one issue alone. And not try to cover every piece of legislation that had any relationship to South Africa. We could say something about it, but we would not do a campaign. So I felt as if the thing to do was concentrate on the issue of restoring United States compliance with the sanctions program against Rhodesia. Senator Harry Byrd of Virginia had introduced what was called the Byrd Amendment, which passed. I think it was 1971. It in effect said that the president shall be without power to implement any program of sanctions imposed on countries in respect to critical and strategic materials unless those strategic and critical materials were also banned in any communist countries.

It's a complicated construction. It never talks about what it really was, which meant that the stainless steel industry could import chrome ore and nickel from Rhodesia because they were on the list of critical and strategic materials. And we were importing them from the Soviet Union. And this Byrd Amendment, in effect, said you couldn't ban critical and strategic materials from a noncommunist country unless it was also banned from communist countries. So that meant that they could import the Rhodesian chrome and nickel in either raw ore or enhanced or refined form.

So what we did was to in effect say this is appalling. It's a very racist act. And so we put together a coalition of groups including about 50 different organizations from the United Nations Association. And WILPF [Women's International League for Peace and Freedom], labor unions including the Steelworkers, United Auto Workers, Communications Workers, and many church denominational agencies. We got them all to endorse that the Byrd Amendment should be repealed. In other words, put the United States back to its required obedience to the [United Nations] Security Council resolution which it had voted for and accepted as a member government which held a permanent seat on the council. And that we should implement the sanctions program against Rhodesia.

We worked on that issue for like five years. And we came very close to winning in 1974, but we were defeated by 20-odd votes. We came close in the House, and we won in the Senate, but we didn't have enough votes in the House. The original Byrd Amendment had been adopted by an overwhelming majority in both houses—much more so in the House than in the Senate. But we worked very carefully with Senator Dick Clark of Iowa, and with Congressman Donald Fraser of Minnesota. They were at that time the heads of subcommittees on Africa in the Senate and Houser respectively. And they were for it, but they could not muster the votes that were needed.

And then what happened was that Jimmy Carter was elected in 1976, and we were able to file our legislation in March of that year, or the year after he was elected. I guess that would've been in 1977, wouldn't it? The Byrd Amendment was in effect repealed, and the sanctions were back in business again. And shortly after that, of course, there were elections held in Zimbabwe, which in effect elected [Robert] Mugabe and the ZANU/ZAPU[19] regime came into being as the ruling body in Zimbabwe. And I went along with a number of other people as an observer for 30 days or so during the election process. And that was the first time I'd ever been to Zimbabwe.

So it was a fascinating time, too. Mike Shuster, who later became a PBS commentator and reporter, was with us, and was making radio reports. And Cathy—what was her name—Connolly was with us from a lawyers' group, Lawyers Committee for Civil Rights.[20] There were about six of us who came as a delegation to observe the fairness of the elections. And when I came home, I did a little amount of speaking about it. Had pictures to show and whatever. So that was toward the end of my career as the director of the Washington Office on Africa.

But that's one of the things that we thought was important, was to work on a single issue. And a lot of people disagreed with that. They thought it was not important, but I think it was important in terms of trying to get the United States to be in line with what international law was saying. And the same thing is true now. We're involved in a war [in Iraq] that does not have international support. So we're back at the kind of issue that we were trying to face in those days.

We worked on other things in the Washington Office on Africa. The sugar quota, and there were other questions that came up. Was Rhodesia entitled to have an office in Washington to call itself a kind of cultural office? And we were trying to show what they were up to. Although they were obviously an illegal government, they were lobbying full steam ahead, and trying to make a lot of progress even though they weren't recognized. And that office hated us for doing that, and said we were un-American. Anyway there were a lot of other odd things. I can't remember all of them.

Q: How did it affect you to see the election and the birth of Zimbabwe?

LOCKWOOD: Well, at the time, I was friends with Eddison Zvogbo who was one of the —he died not so long ago by the way. He was a chief lawyer for ZANU and he was predicting that they were going to win 57 seats in the new assembly, or whatever you call it, the parliament. I don't think any of us who were over there expected that to be the result. And so we had various guesses, but none of them were more than 45 seats for ZANU. And ZANU ended up getting 57 or 58. The people that I knew were in ZANU and not ZAPU. Some people knew ZAPU well, and some people knew ZANU well. And as time went on, the division between ZAPU and ZANU began to widen.

I remember talking to the vice chairman of ZAPU, his name escapes me, when I was in Zimbabwe. And he said well, ZANU really represents Shona speakers, and ZAPU represents people who are Ndebele speakers. We don't like to talk about that, but that's a fact, and that's the way it is. So there was a very great desire on the part of ZANU to make it a national government, and that the idea of having two parties was really wrong. And so they tried to get [Joshua] Nkomo[21] to agree to that. For a time they had a two-party government. And then eventually in the 1985 election, they ran a separate slate, a ZAPU slate, and ZAPU lost disastrously. And then they tried to get back in under the envelope.

I met Mugabe two or three times. The first time I saw him was in 1978 when I traveled abroad for a month or so and visited his headquarters in Maputo. And I knew Eddison [Zvogbo], and Eddison was very keen to have me be introduced to Robert [Mugabe]. So he introduced me to the guy that was secretary general, Edgar Tekere. Then he took me in to meet Robert, who was obviously the brightest of all of them. And he explained that I had been working to restore sanctions against Rhodesia. And Mugabe looked up and said, eh, sanctions. What are sanctions? It means nothing. Nothing means anything except the gun.

And he struck me as being a very violent man, and having a preference for violence. And that was how he talked. And he had read—oh, he had gotten six PhDs in different subjects while he was in prison. Very bright guy. But also a streak of extreme emotional bias in favor of military action. He was a real Chinese communist in that respect. And it just got more and more so. He was not in any way a humble man. He was always fearful of his grip on power, and the grip of ZANU on power, and he did everything possible to make it a solid one-party state. And they didn't believe in two- party business. They thought it was divisive and all that. And in effect, he tried to do a security situation the way Soviet Union did under Stalin. Only it didn't appear so at the time, and we didn't see it coming at the time.

I don't know quite why. There was a great atmosphere at the time I was there, 1983, '84, '85. I was traveling the region all the time. In fact I went to eight of the nine independent countries, and we all lived in a very live-and-let-live kind of a way.

But when I put together a conference of cooperatives—these were cooperatives of workers who worked as partners in the co-op, so it was a workers' co-op. And we brought together people who were working in the agricultural sphere in worker production cooperatives in Mozambique, and in Tanzania, and in Zimbabwe if they had a socialist background. We had a delegation of 12 people from Mozambique, and we had 10 people from Tanzania. We had 22 from Zimbabwe. They tried to describe what their basis was for being co-ops, and they all had different kinds of ideological foundations. In Zimbabwe, it was quite different from Mozambique and Tanzania in respect to what a socialist process was. For example, in Tanzania they had set up a bank that belonged to the cooperatives. And eventually that went out of existence, and they felt it had to come back into existence, because it was the workers themselves doing the work. In Mozambique it was basically run by the government and not by the co-ops, and yet they had also some resources that Zimbabwe didn't.

Zimbabwe had a Department of Agriculture and Co-ops, headed by Moven Mohachi. The secretary of the department was difficult man to deal with. He did not like the format of the conference. He argued that it should be open to all co-ops in Africa irrespective of orientation. He did not want our society of co-ops to do this conference. He tried his best to ruin it for me. And I had to get the co-op movement—it was called OCCZIM, the Organization of Zimbabwe Cooperative Co-ops. And they had to go to Moven Mohachi, who was the minister of agriculture [and] who had been a manager of a co-op out in the east. And they said we want to hold a co-op conference at the university and the secretary of co-ops doesn't want us to. Won't you speak to him? And Mohachi listened to the OCCZIM officers. He called the secretary in, and said, " You must allow this, let them do this as they want." And so that became the first nongovernment conference that they'd held in Zimbabwe from the beginning in 1980.

They held it in 1985, and the secretary for co-ops came up to me later and said well, you won. I said well, you were against it. He said yes, I was against it, but it turned out wonderful. So we were there for seven days, but the government didn't like it because it wasn't government. And the idea of a nonprofit, nongovernmental civic society was something that they didn't tolerate. They wouldn't like it. So they have constantly been fighting anything that wasn't government. And so that's part of the Mugabe problem, I think.

He's a very strict, very idealistic person who sees things everything in ideological terms. He goes around in these convoys with six or seven cars with sirens going, and shooting things in the air as he progresses through the streets. That's a hell of way to establish a civil society. Compare that with somebody who also was socialist, [Julius] Nyerere.[22]

I remember encountering an official car with Nyerere in it up in the northern part of Tanzania. And he had a convoy of three cars: one in front, and one in back, and his. He didn't have a siren or " wailer" to clear people out of the way. Not even a guard. People loved the guy, you know. And so he might've been ineffective, but in terms of getting together a cooperative society that was self-starting and modest and helping people to get ahead, that was Tanzania, even if in terms of economics it didn't amount to much. But that was my particular interest, was to try to support people who wanted to work together in a cooperative fashion that would not be sort of communist in the sense of a Stalinist government.

And so I was, I suppose, quite perturbed as time went on that things got more and more dictatorial. And Sister Janice McLaughlin[23] is a dear friend of mine, a Maryknoll sister who is still out there. She works at Silveira House, which is a school for development and agriculture. She is just totally against Mugabe. She was having arguments with me when I was there about how wonderful ZANU was, and how wonderful Mugabe was. But she's all sick about it now.

Q: Were you aware in the '80s while you were there of the killings going on in Matabeleland?

LOCKWOOD: Yes. We learned of it. Yes. I don't remember exactly how, but I had a colleague who was AFSC, a man named Jim Seawell—I was doing the information stuff, and he was doing the development stuff. He got going a development project in one of the areas south of Harare. He was part of the sort of group of NGOs that were aware of what was happening, and they tried to meet, and in fact they were invited to meet with Mugabe and his head of the army. And in effect, [the government officials] said we have to protect our people from this civil war going on; Nkomo's people are carrying on a guerilla campaign against us. And no state is going to sit back and let itself be overthrown. And they said you know so-and-so? And I said oh, yes, it's a co-op that we support. And they said well, did you know that we pulled a raid on that place, and there were AK-47s underneath the beds?

There was a war going on between ZAPU and ZANU in Matabeleland. There were people who went into stores, and if the store's owner had been giving any kind of food to the rebels they were liquidated. So yes, everybody knew it. But we had contacts all over who could tell some different stories, because it was front page news in London. And there is a subsequent report, I'm sure you have it, about what really was going on, because the Catholic Conference on Justice and Peace was very much against this kind of war that was going on. The Catholic bishop of Bulawayo was very—I remember interviewing him, when he was simply one of the priests, part of the diocese down there. And I think his name is Ncube, but he's been very strong on this whole issue, and showing how violent and terrible the government has been. Well, the fact is everybody has been terrible and violent. And so some of the ZAPU people turned over, became part of the government.

Q: How long were you there?

LOCKWOOD: I was in Zimbabwe from February of 1983 until early December of 1985.

Q: How did living in Africa change or affect your view of the liberation struggle?

LOCKWOOD: How did it change my view of the liberation struggle?

Q: Yes.

LOCKWOOD: It changed it from being—it was very easy to sort of say, well, the liberation struggle, they're the heroes. They are the good people, and I don't want to hear anything bad about them. The more I stayed with it, the more I feel sympathy for everybody else. How difficult it is, really, to have a peaceful society as well as a just society come out of this. And that the whole idea of influence of—ZANU's adoption of a program of holy violence is just wrong. You can't do that, and carry it all on as part of your understanding of what the state is supposed to be. What is the underlying constitutional structure. If in fact what you're going to continue to do is a civil war on your political enemies, then you can't go on like that. It's horrible. And I think the fact that somebody like Janice, who is a very sweet and lovely person, but was extremely pro-Frelimo and in favor of ZANU—and everybody knew her, and she was running these schools and everything. She's totally disillusioned with it now on the basis that this guy is a psychological tyrant, a real traitor to human values that lie at the bottom of Christian beliefs.

So I think that it is very difficult to see that. Then, too, there's so much that alcohol does to people. People drink so much, and it's just horrible. And that makes everything worse. So the discipline question really has to be faced very clearly. And I think it's been helpful that there are institutions like the Catholic Church, and like the Anglican Church, that have stayed with their people and tried to give them some succor and tried to make things more gentle. I mean the people in Zimbabwe are very gentle people by nature. They're not butchers like that.

Q: When you left Zimbabwe, what did you do after that?

LOCKWOOD: I came back, as I say, in 1985, and I more or less retired. And then in, I think it was 1987, the National Council of Churches approached me to write a mission book on South Africa, which took something like 10 or 12 months to do. It came out as a mission book.[24] It was commissioned by the Publications Committee for Mission of the National Council of Churches. Friendship Press published it for their missionary studies, that were mostly bought by Methodist Women [Women's Division, General Board of Global Ministries, United Methodist Church]. Methodist Women are the most methodical of anybody. They have classes and things of that kind for adults and everybody. And so it was regarded as a good book. It came along with a workbook for discussion leaders. There was another book that was put together of worship resources, and that was put together by somebody else.

Anyway, that's what I did. And then at the same time, my parish, the St. Stephen and the Incarnation, asked if I would serve as the interim minister. So I did that. I think I said I would give them not more than 30 hours a week. I think I tried to aim at 20 hours a week so that I could work on the book. And so I was there for seven months.

That was 1987. And then I had been part of the American Friends Service Committee bureaucracy. They asked me to be on the International Division Executive Committee, which sounds very grand. But it mostly is rubber stamping what the bureaucracy has already decided. I was with them for like five years, and then I was asked to be on what was called the Board Program Committee, which was to rethink everything that AFSC does in terms of structure, and where does the International Division fit in, and where does the education department, peace education, where does that come in. What do we do with other things. And so I could've stayed on. I spent three years thrashing along about what kind of things we needed to do, or how it should be structured.

And they wanted me to stay on for another three years, and I didn't want to do that.. So I said, well, I'm not a Quaker, really, anyway. So I resigned in 1995, I think. So I haven't done Quaker stuff since then. But I'm favorable to them. I like them a lot, and liked working with them most of the time.



[1] Lockwood tells one chapter of this story in a 2002 article, " One of God's Irregulars: William Overton Johnston and the Challenge to the Church to Divest from Apartheid South Africa, 1954-1971," Anglican and Episcopal History 71, no. 3: 411-37 (available at http://www.africanactivist.msu.edu/remembrances.php).

[2] For general background on this period, see chapter 7, " The Whites are Here to Stay," and chapter 8, " A Luta Continua," in King Solomon's Mines Revisited, ed. William Minter (New York: Basic Books, 1986).

[3] Two recent books on the topic include Gerald Horne, From the Barrel of a Gun: The United States and the War against Zimbabwe, 1965-1980 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2001) and Andrew DeRoche, Black, White, and Chrome: The United States and Zimbabwe, 1953-1998 (Trenton, NJ: Africa World Press, 2001). A new study by Nancy Mitchell on President Carter and Rhodesia is still unpublished as of 2005.

[4] Davis's films included Generations of Resistance and South Africa: The White Laager. See http://www.indiana.edu/~bfca/collection/special/peterd.html.

[5] Bishop James Pike (1913-1968) was prominent as a political and theological liberal in the 1950s and early 1960s. See http://www.gracecathedral.org/enrichment/crypt/cry_20011114.shtml.

[6] The National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, founded in 1909, is the oldest and largest U.S. civil rights organization.

[7] Born in Cape Verde in 1911, Eugenia Fortes immigrated to the United States at the age of  nine. She founded the Cape Cod branch of the NAACP in 1961. For a short biography, visit http://www.thehistorymakers.com.

[8] The Washington-based Institute for Policy Studies, often known by the acronym IPS, was founded in 1963. See http://www.ips-dc.org/about/history.

[9] TIAA-CREF is the principal financial institution that manages retirement funds for the academic community in the United States.

[10] ESCRU was founded in 1959. A description of the organization and of its archives is available at http://www.episcopalarchives.org/escru.html.

[11] " One of God's Irregulars: William Overton Johnston and the Challenge to the Church to Divest from Apartheid South Africa, 1954-1971," Anglican and Episcopal History 71, no. 3: 411-37 (available at http://www.africanactivist.msu.edu/remembrances.php).

[12] George Houser was the executive director of the American Committee on Africa from 1955 to 1981. See interview with Houser in this collection.

[13] Probably a reference to the Puerto Rican Independence Party.

[14] Chief Mangosuthu Gatsha Buthelezi, founder of the Inkatha Freedom Party, was a leading opponent of sanctions against the apartheid regime in South Africa.

[15] Frelimo (Mozambique Liberation Front) led the movement for liberation in Mozambique from its founding in 1962 until independence in 1975. Since then it has been the governing party.

[16] The African National Congress (ANC) was founded in 1912 and has been the governing party of South Africa since the first democratic election in 1994. The Pan Africanist Congress (PAC) broke away from the ANC to form a separate nationalist organization in 1959.

[17] The Rev. William Wendt became rector of St. Stephen's in 1960, and in the following decades the church was active in the civil rights, women's rights, and anti-war movements, as well as around many local concerns. See http://www.saintstephensdc.org/history.html.

[18] Maghan Keita is director of the Africana Studies Program and associate professor of history at Villanova University in Villanova, Pennsylvania.

[19] ZAPU (Zimbabwe African People's Union) and ZANU (Zimbabwe African National Union) were the principal nationalist movements before independence of Zimbabwe. ZAPU was merged with ZANU in 1988.

[20] The Lawyers' Committee for Civil Rights under Law was founded in 1963. Through its Southern Africa Project, which began in 1967-68, it was the principal U.S. group involved in legal support for opponents of apartheid and the freedom struggles in Namibia and South Africa.

[21] Joshua Nkomo (1917-1999) was the most prominent nationalist leader in Zimbabwe from the 1950s until independence in 1980.  He led the Zimbabwe African People's Union (ZAPU) from 1961 to 1987, when it merged with its rival ZANU.

[22] Julius Nyerere (1922-1999), led Tanganyika to independence and served as leader of independent Tanganyika from 1961 to 1964, and as president of the Republic of Tanzania from 1964 to 1985.

[23] See the book by Janice McLaughlin, On the Frontline: Catholic Missions in Zimbabwe's Liberation War (East Lansing: Michigan State University Press, 1996).

[24] Edgar Lockwood, South Africa's Moment of Truth (New York: Friendship Press, 1988).