Reflecting on a neighborhood lost to violence

I grew up a street over from 722 Lester, where on Monday four adults and two children were found brutally slain, and three other children critically wounded.

When I heard the address, I made the connection instantly. After getting over the shock of the killings, I wondered what had happened to my old neighborhood. Two major thoroughfares -- Broad and Summer -- pretty much acted as a buffer between the rowdiness around Binghamton's once notorious Tillman and Johnson intersection to the south.

We moved away 45 years ago, when I was about 13, to a bigger house in a new, but segregated, subdivision off Alcy Road in South Memphis.

But a lot of things can change in four and half decades. Maybe the changes help explain what's happening today in older black neighborhoods throughout the city.

My parents, my sister and I lived in small box frame house on Carpenter, a block east of Lester.

The block of Lester where the killings occurred and our block of Carpenter are part of the northern rim of Binghamton. A huge feed mill compound put an exclamation point on that northern boundary.

The houses on our block were post-war homes, built around 1950 to be affordable for servicemen who had fought in World War II. The homes on that block of Lester were newer and some of us considered the people who lived in them a bit more affluent.

It was the 1950s and early 1960s. With segregated neighborhoods. Segregated schools. Riding in the back of the bus. &quot;Colored&quot; water fountains. Limited access to the zoo, fairgrounds and movie theaters.

Because of segregation, housing options were limited for &quot;colored&quot; people. As a result, professional people lived next door to non-professionals. For example, my mom was a nurse and my dad worked for the post office. The man on one side of us was a junk dealer, who collected stuff in a mule-drawn wagon. He kept the mule in his back yard and you could really smell the animal when it rained. Every once in a while, the mule would break free and go galloping down the street.

That type of social interaction was typical up and down our street, and in nearly all black neighborhoods. You don't see a lot of that now. Those who can afford to move into better neighborhoods do, leaving those who can't behind.

Parents, with the help of neighbors, kept a tighter rein on their kids. You were made to stay close to home. Going across the street or up the street was forbidden, and getting permission to do so was rare.

Adults in the neighborhood knew the kids in the neighborhood and who they belonged to. It was acceptable for a neighbor to alert your parents if they saw you getting into mischief. One of the worst whippings I received resulted from a woman, who lived at least two blocks away, telling my mom about something I did that I had no business doing.

Try that now and there's a chance you'll get cursed out.

We played with the kids who lived next door and directly across the street.

Earl and Mary Gunn are good examples. They reared six boys and two girls in their home on Carpenter. They kept their children close to home, so even though they only lived a few houses down on the other side of the street, we didn't play with their kids much.

The Gunns are still there. Until Tuesday night, I hadn't seen them since we moved, but they had seen my photo in the newspaper. One of their sons, Billy, lives up the street from their home. His backyard abuts the backyard of 722 Lester.

Most of the adults who lived on the street when I was a child have either died or moved.

I asked Mary Gunn why she and Earl stayed. &quot;There wasn't any use to going anywhere,&quot; she said. &quot;Earl worked two jobs and took out a second mortgage, and we added four rooms.&quot;

And, despite some media reports to the contrary, their sliver of Binghamton is still kind of quiet. Billy Gunn said there was one trouble-making knucklehead in the neighborhood, but the police took care of that problem.

Mary Gunn said a neighbor once gave her some good advice about how to be a good neighbor. &quot;Stay in your own yard and stay out of your neighbor's business, and keep them out of yours.&quot;

It has worked, she said. Nobody bothers them.

Physically, though, my neighborhood has changed. Age brings blight.

City administrators say ending blight is a priority. Tougher code enforcement could force property owners to fix up residential and commercial buildings.

Antiquated zoning regulations have, for example, allowed three hourly-rate motels to open nearby on Summer. Prostitutes peddle their wares around them.

Used car lots and auto body shops now also dominate that stretch of Summer.

Overall though, it was really nice to see the Gunns again Tuesday night, and to hear that a portion of where I spent my early years is still a pretty decent place to live, despite the horrendous killings.

Jerome Wright is citizens editor for The Commercial Appeal. Contact him at 529-5830 or e-mail