The Boston Globe - 08.08.2019

(Joyce) #1

THURSDAY, AUGUST 8, 2019 The Boston Globe A


ByMihirZaveri
NEWYORK TIMES
Relatives of a black man
whowas led by ropedowna
street in Galveston, Texas, by
two white police officers said
Tuesday that the man has suf-
fered from bipolar disorder and
schizophrenia mostof his life
and regularlysleeps on the
streets — struggles they said of-
ficers should have known about
based on his criminal history.
The man,Donald Neely, 43,
was arrested Saturday on a
charge of criminaltrespassing
in a commercialneighborhood.
The police saidhe had been
warned several times before not


to trespass in the area. When a
police car was not immediately
available,he was escorted by
mountedpoliceofficersabout
four blocks to a nearby staging
area, the Galveston Police De-
partment said in a statement.
The scene was captured in a
photograph by an onlooker and
sharedwidelyon socialmedia,
drawing national attention as it
conjuredfor many images of
slavery and mistreatmentby
whites of African Americans.
Taranette Neely of Houston,
Donald Neely’s sister, said in an
interview Tuesday that Neely
had beenreleased 20 hours af-
ter his arrest.
“They shouldhave never did
what they did, put a black man
in between two horsemen that
are white,” she said.

Neely had beenliving mostly
on the streets of Galveston for
about five years and because of
mental illness, had repeatedly
resisted attemptsby family
members to bring him home,
she said.Just threeweeksago,
she said, Neely jumped out of a
moving car driven by his broth-
er whowas tryingto return
Neely to his family.
Court recordsshow that
Neely had been arrested six
times already in 2019 on misde-
meanorcriminal trespassing
charges, part of what Taranette
Neely said was a long history of
interactions with police. Court
records showdozensof arrests
for mostly low-level crimes dat-
ing back to the mid-1990s.
In recentyears,Taranette
Neely said,her brotherhad

stopped takinghis medication,
and his mental state was deteri-
orating.
“They don’t care to know the
wholestory,” she said.“You’re a
criminal in their eyes. You’ll al-
ways be a criminal.Ain’t no re-
demption for you. You’re trash.
Andthat’s howthey treated
him.”
Many residents of Galveston
forcefully questioned the offi-
cers’conduct at a community
meeting Tuesday organizedby
VernonL. Hale III, Galveston’s
police chief, and broadcast by
local television stations. The Po-
lice Department has identified
the two officers seen in the pho-
tograph only as P. Brosch and
A. Smith. The officers could not
be reached for comment.
Without fully naming the of-

ficers, Hale saidthat one of
themhad beenwiththe Police
Department for four years and
the other for two years.
At the meeting, Hale, who
issued an apology on Facebook
on Monday night, said the Po-
lice Departmentwas conduct-
ing a review of what had hap-
pened and that the two officers
werenot yet facing formaldis-
ciplinary action.He said that
he would take the blame for
what he calledthe officers’
“poorjudgment.”
“If they wanta pound of
flesh,that comesfromme, not
my guys,” he said. “It’s my under-
standing that these officers —
and until we have an opportuni-
ty to rest and talk and get to the
root conversations,which we
haven’t had an opportunity to

do — they understandthe per-
ception of what people are see-
ing. They wantpeopleto under-
stand that they wereusingtools
they wereprovided to performa
job they were asked to do.”
Referringto the use of the
rope escort, Hale said the Police
Departmenthas “stoppedthe
practice immediately.”
The method “is considered a
best practice in certain scenari-
os, such as during crowd con-
trol,” the Police Department
said in a statement Monday.
Calls on Tuesday to the Po-
liceDepartmentandthe
Galveston County district attor-
ney about the case werenot im-
mediately returned.
Donald Neely’s family at-
tendedthe community meeting
Tuesday with two lawyers.

Black man led on rope by police is mentally ill, family says


Recordsshow 6


arrests in 2019


Obituaries

ByBryanMarquard
GLOBE STAFF
Whileplanningeachof his
landscape architecture proj-
ects, MorganDix Wheelock lis-
tened as much, or more, to the
ground beneath his feet as he
did to the wordshis clients
spoke.
Through that approach, he
anticipated the future while re-
arranging the present. Nature,
he told the Globe in 1987, “has
a way of takingover very quick-
ly. You have to have humility to-
wardnature — to thinkabout
howthings will growand
weather and how the environ-
mentwill be maintained.”
Letting the land’s own incli-
nationsresonate in his designs,
he added, ultimately improved
each project.
“I try to create harmony be-
tween the manmadeand the
natural, to do what feels good,”
he said. “I think beauty is what
is perceivedas right.”
Mr. Wheelock,who ran his
ownfirmfor morethanfour
decades, and who divided his
timebetween Brooklineand
West Palm Beach, Fla., died Ju-
ly 20. He was 81 and had been
diagnosedwith cancer several
yearsago.
In his designs,Mr. Whee-
lock’striedto“letnaturespeak,
to find the best in nature, as he
did in people,” saidhis long-
time friend Ted Stebbins.
“Onediscovers in one’s jour-
ney through time countless les-
sons; some are learned, some
ignored, and others denied on-


ly to recur until they are finally
digested and applied,” Mr.
Wheelockwrote in 1980for the
20th anniversary report of his
Harvard University class.
He applied life’s lessonsto
numerous projects overthe
years, including a Normandy,
France,memorialgardenhe
designeda quarter century ago.
The project honored thosewho
had foughtduringWorld War
II.
“It calleduponme to inter-
pret the battle of Normandy
and the impact on American
soldiersand theirfamilies,the
sacrificethe whole country
madein the liberation of
France,” Mr. Wheelock told the
Palm BeachDaily News in
2012.
His research includedmeet-
ing with elderlyveterans of
World War II and listening to
theirstories.
“He always got so excited
about the projects he was do-
ing, and the relationshipshe
developed with people as he
was doing them,” said his wife,
Judith.
His many other designs in-
cluded “A Woman’s Garden,” in
the DallasArboretum and Bo-
tanicalGarden;the Philip Huli-
tar Sculpture Garden in Palm
Beach, Fla.; a roof gardenthat
coveredmorethan two acres
atop a 17-story building in
Montreal; and a variety of proj-
ects for Aga Khan, a business
magnate he had met while they
both attended Harvard.
In 1976, Mr. Wheelock mar-

ried Judith Taylor, an artist.
“We have been so privileged
to draw on sucha powerful in-
spirational sourceas is embod-
ied in Judith’s and my work,” he
wrote in 2000for the 40th an-
niversary report of his Harvard
class.
“He was really a beloved fig-
ure,” said Stebbins, who is cura-
tor of Americanart, emeritus,
for the Harvard Art Museums.
“He was generous and lov-
ing to the end,” Stebbinsadded.
“You couldsit there and talk
with him aboutthe meaning of
life. You couldtalk withhim
aboutdeath, and what that
might be like. There was noth-
ing you couldn’t talk withhim
about, and he was interested in
every subject.”
Mr. Wheelock, whose hon-
ors includedbeinginducted in-
to the New EnglandDesign
Hall of Fame in 2012,had for-
merlychaired the Architectural
Commission of Palm Beach and
served as a trustee of St. Paul’s
Schoolin Concord,N.H.
“I have beenmost privileged
to have a careerwhichbeauti-
fies our planet,” he wrote in
2000,adding: “Canyou imag-
ine going to workevery day
and feelinglike you are the
honored guest at Mother Na-
ture’s table?”
The youngest of threebroth-
ers, Morgan Dix Wheelock Jr.
was born in New York City in
1938, a son of Morgan Whee-
lock Sr. and SylviaBender.
Mr. Wheelock grew up in
New York and at the family’s

homein Bedford, N.Y., and he
graduated from St. Paul’s
School before following five
previous generations of his
familyto Harvard College,
from which he graduated in
1960.
He studiedEnglishlitera-
ture, helped illustrate the Har-
vard Lampoonwithcartoons,
and as a senior, he took a histo-
ry of landscape architecture
coursetaughtby renowned
landscape architect Norman
Newton.
“It opened my eyes to a
wholenew world,” he told the
Globe in 1987. “I made a book
of drawings and plans illustrat-
ing the course and gave it to
Newton. I knew immediately
that I wanted to be a landscape
architect.”
His family had other ideas,
however, and Mr. Wheelock ini-
tially worked for his father. The
Wheelocksran a prosperous
real estate development firm in
Manhattan, and Mr. Wheelock
found himself helping broker
dealsfor projects. The time
wasn’t wasted.
“I’m glad I did that,” he re-
calledin 1987.“I learnedabout
the power that it takes to bring
off big projects.”
Nevertheless,he added,“I
foundmyself on the wrong side
of deals. Here I was raising fi-
nancing for developers who
weremaking ugly buildings. I
couldhave becomevery rich
doing what I was doing, but I
decided I wantedto design
projects myself.”

There was the matter of
training, though,and his bach-
elor’s degree in English wasn’t
the usualbackground to get in-
totheHarvardGraduate
School of Design. As luck
would have it, Newton remem-
bered an illustrated book Mr.
Wheelock had created and
championedhis admittance.
After graduating with a
master’s in landscape design,
he worked for Sasaki Associ-
ates in Watertown, where he
becamea principal.
Mr. Wheelock, whose first
marriage endedin divorce,
launched his own firm in 1978,
the year he turned40. At times,
MorganWheelock Incorporat-
ed had some 40 to 50 projects
going at once.
“The workis extremely ex-
citing and rewarding, and af-
fords the perfect mix of art and
theatre,” he wrotefor the 25th
anniversary report of his Har-
vard class. “I can truly state
that I love my job.”
In addition to his wife, Ju-
dith, Mr. Wheelock leaves his
two sons, Timothy of Natick
and Morgan III of Chestnut
Hill; his daughter, Cornelia
Wheelock Birmingham of Sher-
born; two stepsons, Edmund
Twining IV of Sherbornand
TaylorTwiningof Rumson,
N.J.; his brother, Dr. Frederick
Wheelock of Philadelphia; and
11 grandchildren.
A memorial service will be
held 1 p.m. Sept. 11 in Memori-
al Churchin Harvard Yard in
Cambridge.

“Designis to be lived,” Mr.
Wheelock wrote in his 2013
book“Dancingwith Nature.”
By letting nature’s harmo-
nies resonate throughdesigns
he created, he saw his workas
somethingmore than simply
landscape architecture.
“I am a healer. As a kid, I al-
ways wanted to be the doctor. I
was taken withthat figure of a
god in a whitecoat,” he said in
the 1987Globeinterview.
“Now I’ve come to think of
my ownwork as beingpartly
about healing,” he added. “I try
to help a client to feel happy, to
healhimself, by expressing
himselfthroughhis own envi-
ronment. It can make a person
feel wonderful.”

BryanMarquardcanbe
reachedat
bryan.marquard@globe.com.

MorganDixWheelock; infused a healingsense into landscapedesigns


Mr. Wheelockran a design
firmoutof Brooklinefor
fourdecades.

ByNeil Genzlinger
NEWYORK TIMES
NEWYORK — Harley Race,
a professionalwrestler who
overcameseriousinjuries from
a car accidentto becomea
mainstay of the wrestlingcir-
cuit, winningnumerousindi-
vidual and tag-team titles in the
1960s, ’70s, and ’80s, diedon
Thursday. He was 76.
The causewas lungcancer,
the wrestlingorganization
WWEsaid on its website.It did
not say where he died.
Mr. Racewas pitted in high-
profilematchesagainst Dusty
Rhodes, Ric Flair, Andre the Gi-
ant, Hulk Hogan, and other
marqueenames. In his heyday
he was such a namehimself,
personifyingtoughness but
serving as a transitional figure
whohelpedbringthe sport
froman era of brawn to one of
character-driven performance.
“Before Race,sweaty grap-
plers played to a relatively
small, but loyaland dedicated,
group of fans,” The St. Louis
Post-Dispatch wrotein 2001.
“After Race,wrestlingis a
megabillion-dollar industry
with huge televisioncontracts,
pay-per-view spectacles, and a
sleazy soap-opera sensibility.”
As Flair, one of professional
wrestling’s best-known and
most flamboyant figures, put it
on Twitter, “WithoutHarley
Race, there was no Ric Flair.”
Harley LelandRacewas
bornon April11, 1943,in
Maryville, Mo.
“It’s not a stage name,as
many people still believe,” he
said in his autobiography, “King
of the Ring: The Harley Race
Story” (2004),written with Ger-


ry Tritz. His parents,Mary and
George Allen Race, wereshare-
croppers,he wrote, and his fa-
ther also drovea bus.
At 15, he said,he was tossed
out of highschool after slug-
ging the school principal, who
was trying to breakup a good-
natured fightbetween Harley
and a friend.
“I was barredfromschool
property until I apologized to
the shaken but unhurt princi-
pal,” he wrote.“I’m not the apol-
ogetic type of guy, so it would
become a lifetime suspension.”
That suited him fine, because
he alreadyknew that he wanted
to be a professional wrestler,
having heardpromotionalspots
on the radio and seen a few
matcheson a black-and-white
television.
He movedfurther toward
that goal whenhe got a job
working on the Missouri farmof
the Zbyszkos, a family that in-
cluded two brothers who had
beenprofessional wrestlers.
“Mostly what they taught
me were submission holds,” Mr.
Racewrote. “They’d put me in
one and say, ‘Try to get out.’ The
moreI tried, the moreI wore
myself out or hurt myself.”
He began wrestling profes-
sionally in 1960, working in
smallarenasacrossthe United
States. A car accidentin 1961
killedhis wife,Vivian,whomhe
had marriedonly a monthearli-
er, and left him seriously in-
jured. In his autobiography, he
recalleda doctor tellinghim that
he was unlikely to walk again.
“‘I’ll sendyou ringsidetick-
ets to my firstmatch,’ I told
him,” Mr. Race wrote.
He and Larry Hennigwon a

series of tag teamtitlesbegin-
ningin 1965.Individualacco-
lades soon followed. He won his
first National Wrestling Alli-
ancechampionship in 1973by
beating Dory Funk — a belt he
would win seven more times.
Mr. Race accumulated assort-
ed nicknamesoverthe years:
“Handsome,” “Mad Dog,” “King
of the Ring,” “Greatest Wrestler
on God’s Green Earth.”
He wouldoften play the bad
guy in the ring, inviting the
crowd’s scorn.
“He was a good athlete, good
looking, the wholepackage,”
Hennig told The Des Moines
Register in 2005. “Somered-
necks don’t like that. They don’t
like to see you talkingand
mouthing off. But he could back
it up.”
Mr. Race joinedthe WWEin
1986.His last seriousmatches

were in the early 1990s. After
that, he worked as a wrestling
promoter and manager for a
time, then he started a sort of
minor-league wrestling circuit,
World LeagueWrestling, and
training school, the Harley
RaceWrestlingAcademy in El-
don, Mo.
Mr. Racewas married four
times,most recentlyto Beverly
Ann Race,whodiedin 2009.
There was no information on
whohe leaves immediately
available.
Mr. Race taught the basics of
wrestling at his academy.
“The longer yourbodyis on
the mat, the longer you are in
the business,” he explained to
The Register. “When you’re in
the air, you gotta land some-
where.If you got the back-
ground in basicmat wrestling,
you can wrestle anybody.”

Harley Race, ‘Kingof the


Ring’ wrestler; at 76


FREDR. CONRAD/THE NEW YORKTIMES/
The professionalwrestlerMr. Raceat theWorldLeague
WrestlingSchoolin Eldon,Mo.

ByKatharineQ. Seelye
NEWYORKTIMES
NEWYORK — Steve Sawyer,
a leader of the environmental
groupGreenpeace and one of
the first activists on the global
stage to sound the alarm over
the threat of climate change,
diedJuly 31 in a hospitalin
Amsterdam,wherehe lived.
The Boston native was 63.
The causewas complica-
tions of pneumonia stemming
from lung cancer, his wife, Kelly
Rigg, said.
Over nearly three decades,
starting in the late 1970s, Mr.
Sawyerrose frombeinga low-
paid canvasser for Greenpeace,
going doorto doorto solicit do-
nationsand memberships, to
runningthe organization,
whose global headquarters is in
Amsterdam.
He cameof age withthe
group, embodyingits radical
spiritin his earlyactivist days,
then helping to lead it to the
forefront of the global environ-
mental movement.
Perhaps his most dramatic
Greenpeaceexpedition was in
1985,whenhe was on board
the group’s flagshipvessel,the
130-foot trawler Rainbow War-
rior, on a campaign to stop
Francefromtesting nuclear
weapons in the South Pacific.
The ship had sailed to New
Zealand to lead the protest and
was docked in Aucklandwhen
two explosions ripped through
its hull and sankit, killing the
ship’s photographer. French in-
telligenceagents had planted
the bombs.
Mr. Sawyer, the senior policy
personon board, was in port
celebrating his 29th birthday.

An international outcry gal-
vanized the anti-nuclear move-
ment, broughtdonationsto
Greenpeace, and helped end
nuclear testing in the Pacific.
“Greenpeace had someof its
greatest triumphs in the years
Sawyerwas at the helm,” Brian
Fitzgerald, a former Green-
peace activist, wrotein an ap-
preciation after the death.
These included a 1991 treaty
signed by a dozen countries to
close Antarctica to gas, oil, and
mineral exploration for 50
years; an agreement, signed by
all the member nations of the
United Nations,to phaseout a
successionof ozone-depleting
chemicals, a move that has
helped the ozone layer to recov-
er; and a 37-country pact to ban
the dumpingof radioactive
waste at sea.
In addition, he said, Mr.
Sawyerhad “led Greenpeace to
begin campaigning in earnest
against climate change long be-
fore most of the environmental
movement understood the
threat.”
Stephen Gregory Sawyer
was bornin Boston, to Winslow
Allen Sawyerand Frances
(Wheeler)Sawyer. His father
was an engineer and his mother
a piano teacher.
He grew up in Antrim,N.H.,
and graduated fromHaverford
College in Pennsylvania witha
philosophy degree.After col-
lege he had no clear sense of
what he wanted to do until,
while he was living with friends
in the Boston area, a Green-
peace canvasser rang his door-
bell seeking donations.Mr.
Sawyersoonsignedup to be a
canvasser himself.

Steve Sawyer;led Greenpeace

to environmental triumphs
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