Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: WEDNESDAY, March 14, 1990 TAG: 9003143158
SECTION: NATIONAL/INTERNATIONAL PAGE: A/1 EDITION: EVENING
SOURCE: LESLIE DREYFOUS ASSOCIATED PRESS
DATELINE: BOSTON LENGTH: Medium
Now they also come to weep at "The Wall," a stark memorial inscribed with the names of 65 teen-agers who have died in recent years on Boston's streets.
"They come over and see the names of friends and relatives," said Dorcas Dunham, who with her husband runs the inner-city roller skating rink. "They're starting to see the reality and they're crying out."
They're seeing death in a black-and-white list that grows longer every day, a list that includes the names of gang members gunned down by their rivals and innocent kids caught in the crossfire.
The war has claimed 28 lives in Boston already this year. If the pace continues, The Wall will soon be filled. No one wants to start another.
The memorial hangs in a corner at the 50-year-old rink in the city's Dorchester section. It's housed behind a reinforced door and around the corner from one of the city's busiest police precincts. The teen-age skaters are frisked for weapons and agree to play by the rules: no gum, no smoking, no fighting, no profanity.
The Rev. Bruce Wall, a minister and youth counselor, tacked the names of four more victims to the list Saturday afternoon. When the kids came in Saturday night, they looked 8 feet up and noticed the additions.
"They come in and go for their skates and start looking for their friends," said Wall, who is also a Juvenile Court clerk magistrate. "Then they stop and stare . . ."
Faces go with these names. "It's like you can almost see the kids remembering them, their classmates and friends," said John Dunham, who with his wife keeps tabs on as many as 350 teen-agers on a busy night at the rink.
"They're overwhelmed and then they seem, like, broken with despair."
Dunham said he sees it in the way the kids' shoulders slump as they read the words scrawled across the memorial: "Dedicated To Those Youth Who Died Before Their Time."
Sometimes he stands back a few feet and just watches the emotions and tears wash over the teen-agers' faces.
"Some of them don't even come to skate anymore. They just come to look at The Wall," Dunham said. "They're learning about respecting life . . . and that there are no second chances."
Audrey Moore knows there are no second chances. Her 11-year-old sister, Tiffany, is on the list. Tiffany was killed by a stray bullet one summer day two years ago as she sat on a mailbox in her neighborhood.
"I talk to the gang members and try to get through," she said. "I know none of them want to see one of their own on The Wall. Maybe this will make them stop and think."
Dunham said he thinks the message is getting through. He watches the kids leave the rink at night, cutting a wide path around the groups that hang outside looking for trouble after closing.
He has seen fights start erupting inside the rink and has seen them cut short when a kid stands up and points toward The Wall.
"They say, `Don't you all see that? Look at all our friends - dead,' and then things get real quiet," he said. "We're planting a seed of hope here."
That's what it's all about, activists said. The memorial is about dealing with death and staking a claim to life. It's one piece of a bigger effort to turn things around in these tired communities, where people sleep on their floors to stay out of the line of fire at night.
The effort includes an anti-drug hotline, crime watches and classes on civil rights for the youngsters who are stopped and searched for arms. It includes meetings and marches, one of which was held on The Wall's inauguration day March 3.
"The idea for The Wall has a lot to do with the Vietnam War Memorial," said Dunham, who put up the memorial with his wife and Bruce Wall. "That was a battle and so is this, even if a lot of the kids don't know it."
by CNB