From 1978: Neighbors from various sides of the fence

This story was originally published on April 11, 1978.

About the only thing Powelton Village residents can agree on these days is that MOVE members, holed up in their armed headquarters and surrounded by a 25-day-old police blockade, should surrender.

And even then, there’s some disagreement.

In a neighborhood known for its radical politics, every divergent opinion on the blockade has been expressed, from “The police should let them alone and drop the warrants” to “MOVE should be stormed by the police.”

Many fear the siege could end in a “bloodbath.”

Most residents, however, fall somewhere in between.

Most grudgingly support the blockade as a last-ditch nonviolent effort to end the almost 11-month siege, which started when MOVE members brandished rifles and handguns in a confrontation with police last May 20.

A survey of 11 Powelton Village neighborhood groups, some formed specifically in response to the MOVE crisis, found five groups in support of the blockade, two opposed to it, two which have taken no position, and two groups which are inactive.

MOVE’s key support comes from outside the neighborhood through the Black Citywide Coalition for Human Rights. Some Powelton residents, including whites, are members of the group.

“Most of the people in the coalition are trying to save the lives of that group,” said Sister Falaka Fattah, a member.

“MOVE members are not wanted for any felonies, but the fact is they are treated worse than people who have committed heinous crimes. No one has killed kidnapped, raped or robbed anybody. These are the kind of crimes most people find most offensive.

“Because they (MOVE) resist authority most people accept is no reason to kill them,” she added.

The American Civil Liberties Union, which has taken no position on MOVE or the blockage, also is monitoring any violations of civil rights of those who enter the four-block area blockage. And the American Friends Service Committee, opposed to the blockage because it prefers continued negotiations, has set up a complaint center for civil rights violations.

Since March 16, when the blockade was erected, the area fro 32rd St. to 34th and Powelton Ave. to Baring St. has taken on the appearance of a war zone."

MOve headquarters, and baring st. and Po-welton Ave. have been cordoned off.

An eight-foot-high, thick metal shield and a snow fence have been constructed opposite MOVE headquarters, and Baring St., and Powelton Ave. have been cordoned off.

“THERE’S NO SOUNDS of people anymore. No cars, no kids playing,’ said Faith Klabach, 24, a Drexel University senior, who lives across 33d St. from MOVE. Instead, she said, she has heard ”rude" police, making “rat calls, dog imitations and comments about their health habits and unhealthy habits.” Then, MOVE retorts with “a tirade.”

“I opened my window and told them to please give them (MOVE) a break. They’re human beings too,” said Ms. Klabach, who misses washing her car outside her house. “I think police are bored to death and want it over fast and they’re provoking things.”

Drexel junior Ken O’Malley, who lives next door to MOVE, Just wants it over. “The blockade causes a little inconvenience, but I’ll put up with it as long as it gets them out of there. ... Nothing personal, but the place does smell, especially with a bad wind.”

(MOVE members bury their garbage in their backyard, and neighbors have complained about the stench and the rats.)

Neighbors for and against the blockade said they feel “battle fatigue” and are “bone-tired from attending endless meetings on MOVE. One confided he skipped aimeeting recently to pick up his fishing license and browse for fishing equipment.

Most frightened, however, are residents targeted, harassed and physically attacked by MOVEers in the past. For a briet period last week, some feared they had become prisoners of war when police forced them to use the 33rd St. front entrance instead of the Pearl St. back entrance to their apartment house.

On the other hand, Diane Baran, a MOVE supporter who lives directly across from the radicals, is sharply critical of the police and the limit on the number of visitors to her home. During the first week fo the blockade, she said, “I was rocks and bottles and occasionally heard cherry bombs (thrown by police). I know for a fast Ishongo (a MOVE member) was hit by bottle.”

Two signs, which some residents believe were a police attempt at macabre humor, irritated them. The, which have ben removed from the area, read “No Stopping Funeral Zone” and a handwritten “Come on out,mother---.”

For David Dickstein, who lives within the blockade near 34th and Baring Sts., the blockade “is the greatest thing since MOVE came here.”

And one resident calls MOVE a “lawless,violent, rascist group of thugs.

“Like most academic liberals, the neighbors are gutless and weak and scared to death. They fear their windows are going to be broken and a black mob is going to descend on them from West Philadelphia and they are scared to say anything,” said the resident, who lives in a commune.

“Extremely exasperated” by MOVE, Powelton resident Robin Fisher, 39, believes skilled negotiators should be brought in to resolve the conflict - but without the blockade.

Says another resident, Mrs. Vera Kinney of the Summer Winter Action Association, “I’m for the blockage, and I think a majority of people are. We really tried since 1972 for the police ro do something about MOVE. We’re fed up with the whole thing — the filth, rats, dogs. It’s not a racial issue, it’s a civil rights issue. They want the right to do this and the right to do that. We have rights too."

“It’s regrettable that MOVE always takes things down to bottom line of physical force, but that’s their style,” said Charles Riordan, a member of the East Powelton Concerned Residents. “They are so utterly uncompromising.”

He foresees the siege ending when MOVErs “get hungry or thisty enough and surrender. And then they’ll be taken to jail or the lunatic asylum, whichever is appropriate.

“What made me take them more seriously was the guns and bombs. If you are going to make threats, you don’t need real bombs. A lot of people don t belleve they’re as dangerous as they are.”

“My only hope,” says lawyer Jim Gould, once a target of MOVE, “is that all things must end.”

This story was originally published on April 11, 1978 in the Philadelphia Daily News.