“The Lake”, 3000 West Washington
What evolved into a predominately African American neighborhood was a source of generational pride, despite also being a site of environmental injustice.
In the late nineteenth century, the area known as Beck’s Lake, or simply “The Lake” to the generations of African American people who grew up there, was a source of the city’s large ice harvesting industry. The water was so clean, City leaders considered it as a source of the city’s water supply. As factories opened nearby and African American people left the incredible racial violence of the U.S. South to take jobs at these northern factories, the surrounding neighborhood transformed as it was one of the few places African Americans and other minoritized groups were allowed to live. Perhaps because of this, Beck’s Lake became a dumping ground for industrial waste and other refuse, leaving a legacy of toxic waste that residents today continue to push for effective cleanup.
Until the early decades of the twentieth century, the Kankakee River flowed towards South Bend’s west side. After the Civil War, white colonizers upset established natural habitats and, in a matter of decades, inflected an incredible transformation upon thousands of years of natural history. They drained the Kankakee River marsh, leaving less than one percent of the original marsh by the early 1920s.
As the waterways dried, some small lakes continued to dot the landscape. One of them was named after Judge Thomas S. Stanfield who owned land adjacent to it. That lake would undergo several name changes, as well as changes in its size, purpose, and neighbors throughout the twentieth and into the twenty-first centuries.
One of Stanfield Lake’s first purposes was to provide ice to South Bend homes, restaurants, and other places where cold food storage was needed. In 1880, George Beck & Son finished building two new ice houses—one on Stanfield Lake—allowing the men he employed to harvest about 4,000 tons of ice, store it underground packed in sawdust and other thermal materials, and then sell it well into the summer months.
In 1903, the South Bend Tribune first assigned George Beck’s name to the lake. Though it was officially named LaSalle Lake, the Tribune acknowledged that the lake is “better known perhaps as Beck’s lake.” This unofficial designation stuck.
Until this point, there were still very few homes nearby. Those few who did reside nearby were likely Polish American or another eastern European immigrant working in one of the many factories to the immediate north and east of the Lake. Over the coming decades, the area surrounding Beck’s Lake—and the lake itself—radically transformed.
Both the first and second World Wars required an insatiable supply of human labor to produce guns, tanks, airplanes, and other tools of death. As a manufacturing mecca, South Bend’s industries converted their production to the tools of war. Many of those production houses surrounded Beck’s Lake—most notably the Bendix Corporation, among others. Much of the labor inside these factories was done by men born in Eastern Europe fleeing violence and poverty by emigrating to the United States, or by men born in the U.S. south fleeing racial violence and poverty by moving north. The City proved its valuation of those men and their war work through its investments—or lack thereof.
Local activist Willie Mae Butts (who later worked with the Urban League to organize and advocate for people living near Beck’s Lake) described the neighborhood in her 2003 oral history:
Oh gosh… [T]he streets may have been big enough to go down with just one car. The majority of [the streets] were dirt roads. Like a hard dirt because you’d get a lot of dust. … They had those barracks, or at least that’s what they looked like.
When Ms. Butts refers to barracks, she’s describing some of the quickly produced manufactured housing that popped up during the second World War to efficiently house numerous people.
Long-time principal of Washington High School, George McCullough, lived in one of those houses early in his life.In his 2003 oral history, he described the conditions:
They had potbelly stoves. What we would do is, in the evening in the wintertime, we would all sit around the stove, get warmed. We’d run and get into bed. We’d wake up in the morning and it would be cold, and ice had formed around the baseboard of the room because when the potbelly stove was on, the brick would sweat.
In 1927, the lake underwent a major transformation. Until this time, it encompassed much of the area from Falcon Street on the west to West Washington on the south. In August 1927, the City of South Bend intended to install a large sewer to accommodate the surrounding industrial buildings. Beck’s Lake was in the way. Before the City could install the sewer, the lake was drained. What remained was a low, marshy, muddy mess. A small pond of water remained, but it was “nothing more than a ditch less than a quarter city block in area [and] about six feet deep.”
At some point over the next twenty years (it is not clear precisely when) the area first saw use as a city dump. Residents and trash haulers could bring buckets of refuse to the soggy, marshy area around what remained of the once crystal-clear lake.
While this environmental damage was slowly building, the Polish American community around Beck’s Lake was dwindling and the African American community was growing and solidifying.
Despite the living conditions, families and neighbors grew strong bonds with each other and their community. Lynn Coleman, who later became a police officer for the City and served in prominent roles in two mayoral administrations, grew up on Kenmore Street. He talked about his childhood home in a 2001 oral history interview:
[I]n the area that I lived in, the back of Kenmore Street was the start of a dump, a city dump. So where LaSalle Park is right now, [that] was a dump. It wasn’t cleaned off; it was not a park. So, that’s where we played at, and that was our life. As a kid it was fun. We were poor. I didn’t realize it because everybody was.
Residents responded to challenges by organizing and building community with each other. For example, in 1959, fifty residents delivered a petition to the City’s Board of Public Works signed by 300 LaSalle Park property owners. It asked for street, sidewalk, and sewer improvements. Attorney J. Chester Allen and his son, J. Chester Allen Jr., joined to serve as the group’s attorneys. 
A disconnect between the desires of the community and the response of government leadership grew ever wider, and tension in the LaSalle Park community worsened.
In 1961, leaders of several South Bend city government entities along with two real estate agencies hurriedly finished proposals for a redevelopment of the LaSalle Park community. Two days after news of the proposal broke, residents gathered at Nesbitt’s Club (a bar and gambling hall near the Lake that also hosted community meetings) to hear the proposals.
Residents clearly expressed interest in change; however, they were also clear that they did not want their beloved community demolished. They wanted what many other communities had—paved roads, sidewalks, and working sewers. They asked for programs that would help overcome discriminatory banking practices so they could fix existing homes instead of a widespread demolition project. Many residents expressed fear that a renewal program may force them to sell their home for a substandard price, and that new housing—public or private—would not be made available to them to supplant it. In March 1962, the South Bend Urban Redevelopment Commission—with input from federal support agencies—unveiled a very different plan. A total of 240 acres containing 800 homes would be impacted. Of the 800 homes, 150 would be tagged for demolition. Streets would be paved, sewers constructed, and sidewalks would be laid. The entire project would cost about $3.5 million ($34 million in 2023), two-thirds of which would be paid for with federal funds and one-third paid by the city. The city’s cost share could be lessened by investments in public facilities, such as those already underway at LaSalle Park. The bulldozers were approved before anyone knew what would happen after they left.
In July 1964, after stiff community opposition, the City came back with a new renewal plan. Only 130 homes would be eliminated (well within the twenty percent cap set by neighborhood leaders), and a new park facility built. Though the demolition was limited compared to previous plans (an estimated ninety percent of the area would remain intact with support going towards rehabilitation of existing structures), 133 families would still lose their homes.
At the end of 1965 and into the first months of 1966, the Urban Redevelopment Office was able to move the LaSalle Park plan forward. This included the addition of what would become the Charles Black Recreation Center. Although South Bend City Council Representative Janet Allen (whose husband was Mayor Lloyd Allen) called the proposed $112,000 building a “country club,” the Parks Board eased her fear by emphasizing that the building would “be of simple design with [a] concrete floor.”
Community memory and identity were so indelibly tied into the Lake that one nearby resident told the South Bend Tribune that he and his neighbors thought of themselves as “Lake Dwellers.”
In October 1966, the Concerned Citizens’ Committee appeared before a regular meeting of the Parks Board to push for a rebuilding of Beck’s Lake. At that point, the Lake was only eighteen inches deep at the most, and nearly empty during the hot summer months. Rebuilding it was not an easy task, nor one that people from outside the Lake area easily understood the need. While the Parks’ Board expressed the difficulties, the Tribune’s editorial board expressed their lack of understanding about the importance the Lake held to its residents. In an editorial, they wrote:
By acceptable standards of what constitutes a lake, application of the term to Beck’s Lake is good for an argument. If the lake can be preserved and improved without an extravagant investment, well and good. But if this isn’t feasible, we fail to see why there should be any furor over its vanishment.
In a response letter, the Reverend Joseph Schneiders of South Bend’s First Unitarian Church helped the Tribune understand:
The request of the people of LaSalle Park concerning Beck’s Lake may be amusing to your editorial writer, but it is not amusing to the people of LaSalle Park… [T]his was just one other example of the people in that area being sold “a bill of goods.” The people were told…a lot of things in public meetings which the Redevelopment Commission now tells them were not promised.
Reverend Schneiders ended his letter with a call directly to the South Bend Tribune: “Instead of such snide remarks, why don’t you assign a reporter to get the true story of what happened in LaSalle Park?”
The Tribune did as Rev. Schneiders suggested.
In a headline on the front page of the April 6, 1967 local section, the Tribune laid out what the reporter and the photographer saw: “Hope Dwells at Lowest Ebb in LaSalle Park Block Houses.” As reporter Laurance Morrison wrote:
In the 3300 and 3400 blocks of W. Washington Ave., in and among a cluster of cement hovels at the hub of LaSalle Park, rats as fat as a weightlifter’s forearm charge back and forth, their quick eyes seeking out putrid garbage. The occupants of the block houses—their landlord is the City of South Bend—are in the hollow bottom of the economic structure. 
In response to the article, the City sent out an exterminator.
After years of intentional systemic disinvestment, a rigid “renewal" program that residents felt powerless against, and a breakdown in trust, Andre Bohannon, the group chair of the Concerned Citizens for LaSalle Park, a group organized to funnel community and city feedback, shared in a meeting with Mayor Allen that, “The youngsters are tired of waiting. They want action.”
Over the next month, the years of tension that had previously sat fuming finally lit up.
On the afternoon of Monday, July 24, Jesse Middlebrook—a student and athlete at Washington High School—drove his car to a gas station and garage on the west side of South Bend to get help fixing a flat tire. Mr. Middlebrook was African American, and he was repeatedly denied service by the white staff despite several attempts. Other white people at the station intervened on the station’s behalf, and a fight broke out. Police were called, and Jesse Middlebrook was arrested.
As word of Monday’s events spread throughout the community into Tuesday, some tried desperately to stop the inevitable. George Neagu, the City’s Human Relations and Fair Employment Practices Director and white ally to the LaSalle Park community, was tipped off that something big was about to happen. He drove through the neighborhood trying to organize forums in order to stop it. But, by this point, no one person could stem the tide after years of empty and broken promises.
Shortly after the sun set on Tuesday, July 25, around 8:00 pm, roving gangs of white motorists cruised through the LaSalle Park area taunting residents. This galvanized and provoked young people to respond by throwing rocks—first at the specific white motorists that taunted them, then at any motorist driving through Western Avenue. They set up a barricade of trash cans to stop additional people from coming in.
At 9:27 pm, reports started piling in of young people carrying Molotov cocktails. Makeshift bombs set at least three businesses on Western Avenue and Washington Street ablaze, as well as some of the homes vacated by the urban renewal program. Other fires raged throughout the area which, according to the head of the fire department, “not one was a legitimate fire. It was arson, in every case.”  At least one firefighter was injured, and equipment was damaged.
At 10:46 pm, South Bend Police Chief Thomas McNaughton issued an order to “use all necessary force within the law to maintain law and order.” At 11:47, all officers gathered at Circle and Washington Streets to receive helmets, thirty-six inch “crowd control” batons, and for some officers, chemical weapons—i.e., tear gas. They fanned out in three columns to sweep the area.
This response did nothing to deescalate the situation—quite the opposite, in fact. Rioters shouted at, cursed, and threw rocks at the approaching army. South Bend Police Captain Nester Stachowicz made the call to bring in police dogs.
As the clock turned past midnight into the early hours of Wednesday morning, the situation calmed and the violence subdued.
As daylight broke and clean-up began, rumors continued to swirl that the violence would continue. One-hundred and eighty South Bend Police officers were called to work twelve-hour shifts. George Neagu organized a meeting between the South Bend Common Council, police leaders, and some of the young people engaged in violence. About 150 young members of the community gathered at the LaSalle Neighborhood Center, located at 2910 West Western Avenue, to once again engage in talk. The youth addressed continued violations of their constitutional rights and dignity by police, a lack of recreational and social outlets, and a lack of job opportunity. Council members brought with them a rendering of the new recreation center planned for Beck’s Lake. By this point, it was too little, and way too late.
By 9 pm, the Council members left, believing their meeting to have been a success. At approximately 9:20 pm, someone set a nearby car on fire. Police officers arrived and formed an arc in front of the Neighborhood Center. Captain Stachowicz closed the front door—essentially trapping about thirty of the 150 of the youth that remained.
One of the young people trapped inside the building threw a chair at the window to get out, shattering it. Police allegedly mistook this as a gun being fired at them. In response, two officers emptied their shotguns into the broken window, injuring six of the Black youth. Officers then stormed in. Captain Stachowicz emptied his submachine gun into the ceiling to “restore order.” Police then began arresting the youths. They did not find anyone with a gun. One of the arrested youths was named Melvin Phillips. He was twenty-one years old, and had entered the building to get his brother, Thomas, out of it. He had been working that evening and was not participating in any of the violence that surrounded him on his way to the Center. As police led Mr. Phillips out in handcuffs confused and disoriented, he repeatedly tried to escape this incredibly dangerous situation.
South Bend Police Sergeant Roy Jensen gave an order to “stop that man.” Officer Jerome Szweda released a police dog. Officer Ronald St. Germain raised his shotgun and fired.
Mr. Phillips’ friend, Willie Coats, witnessed the shooting and described hearing, “pow—and he falls down, and blood is everywhere.” A police ambulance took him to the hospital. Though Mr. Phillips survived the ordeal, his leg had to be amputated.
At 10:07 pm, Mayor Allen issued a curfew. He also asked Indiana’s Governor to bring 300 National Guard troops into South Bend for potential use as additional riot control. Seven hundred more were placed on stand-by. Reports indicate that the curfew was, for the most part, effective. Wednesday gave to Thursday a very different environment in the LaSalle Park area. After the sun set again on Thursday, reports consider the day to be less fraught than the previous one.  The curfew Mayor Allen imposed Wednesday was lifted on Thursday, and he apparently saw no need to enforce a new one. By Friday, Mayor Allen expressed "cautious optimism” that order would be restored. Melvin Phillips remained in the hospital. 
As of 11 pm on Saturday evening, no other incidents of violence were reported.
In the days and weeks that followed, numerous gatherings tried to process what had happened. On that quiet Saturday immediately following the uprising, a group of forty-four local clergy met. The Reverend Edward Plummer of New Salem Baptist Church said that the youth had “a loss of hope… Their patience has expired, and they are weary of words and promises.
One of those youths later became a principal at Washington High School—George McCullough. He recalled in a 2003 oral history:
I think what happened was there was a lot of frustration in the LaSalle Park Area because we thought—or we knew that we being ignored totally, as a neighborhood, as a race of people. Our streets were just terrible. We still had dirt streets back in the sixties. Huge potholes. It got to the point where, if you’re not going to do anything, we’ll have to take some action.
South Bend was only one of 150 cities across the United States that erupted in violence during the middle of 1967, a period known now as the “long hot summer".  By September 1967, the remaining 125 homes slated for demolition in LaSalle Park fell. By November, the South Bend Parks Board approved a $225,000 recreation center.It would open one year later in November 1968, and later be named the Charles Black Center.
Where Beck’s Lake once gleamed, another smaller body of water now sat. Next to it was a large hill for neighborhood children to sled down during winter months. Allegedly, that hill was created by dumping in the remaining cinder blocks from the former barracks and adding some earth on top of it.
Despite the more serene veneer, what lingered underneath the lake continued to trouble community members for decades—and does so through to this day. What toxic chemicals dumped by the Bendix Corporation are still buried there? Could lead paint from the old barracks contaminate children simply enjoying some playtime? What leaks into the water, and does it put people at risk?
With the community’s health on the line, neighbors wanted the government’s sense of urgency to match their own. Sadly, it did not.
In 1989, the Environmental Protection Agency issued a report from testing done by the Indiana Department of Environmental Management. That report may have remained buried were it not for one Washington High School social studies teacher, Constance Green. For a conversation during Earth Day, Ms. Green remembered and shared with her students the “bad old days” when Beck’s Lake was a dumping ground. Her students were “aghast” when she shared “how highly toxic and poisonous LaSalle Park is.”
With pressure from the community beginning to mount, a spokesperson for the Indiana Department of Environmental Management said that the Environmental Protection Agency would conduct further testing but that they “don’t have a [high] priority for the Beck’s Lake site.” Years went by with multiple community members prodding leaders to prioritize their safety. Even allies inside City government, like City Council Representative Charlotte Pfeifer, struggled to make effective change. As she said when a new soil test was finally announced in 2005, “When I first became elected, it was one of the first things I heard about from people. I think it’s taken far too long. I’ve been working with them for eight years.” 
It wasn’t until 2013 that the Environmental Protection Agency added Beck’s Lake to its list of sites covered under the Comprehensive Environmental Response, Compensation, and Liability Act—more commonly known as a Superfund site. Samples taken in 2013 determined that materials such as arsenic were found in the soil in LaSalle Park, but “below the EPA acceptable risk range for residential settings.” In October 2015, the City of South Bend and the Honeywell corporation (the corporate descendant of Bendix) entered into an agreement to study and determine the extent of contamination and identify plans for remediation. More soil was sampled in October 2017 and December 2018. Again, they determined it to contain no “immediate risk”. In November 2019, more testing identified lead levels in the soil higher than the EPA’s safety limit. It was not until February 2022 that the EPA announced an agreement with Honeywell and the City for “short-term clean-up,” which finally occurred between August and October 2022. The “clean-up” meant taking the top two feet of soil off, placing nets, and refilling with new soil. The on-site coordinator stated that the soil is “likely” safe below two feet.
Despite all of this, anyone from “The Lake” conveys the strong bonds they have built together over generations. There are too many stories from too many individuals to include here, but among the most endearing comes from Karen White, who said in her 2010 oral history:
It was wonderful because everyone knew each other. We had a sense of community. …[N]eighbors took care of neighbors.
We had a pastor…that lived further down the street [and] if he saw that we were getting ourselves into, situations… He would always sit on the porch. So, when school let out, and we would walk down [he] was right on that, you know, sitting on his porch. And he would speak and say, “Oh, I’m gonna tell your mother, I’m gonna tell your father.” Everyone had the responsibility of taking care of everyone in that neighborhood.
So it was a great, great experience, even though we were poor. I’m talkin’ ‘bout extremely poor. We never did go without, because there was a sense of community, a sense of love, and just that… everyone was part of each other 
When residents (current and historic) talk about the Lake, they can clearly acknowledge the challenges they and their neighbors faced—but that is not the main part of the story. They also talk warmly about the people who organized. They talk about the community of parents who raised each other’s children, welcoming others into their homes for dinner, for homework, and for play times. They also talk about the generation of children who grew up to achieve leadership position themselves, people such as Gladys Muhammad (community organizer and Associate Director of the South Bend Heritage Foundation), Lynn Coleman (who served as assistant to two Mayors and ran for U.S. Congress in 2016), Alma Powell (long-time educator, first woman of color to serve as a principal in South Bend schools, and leader of the 1980s school desegregation effort), Karen White (long-time representative of the City’s Common Council as well as a member of the senior leadership at Indiana University South Bend), and too many others to adequately list here.
As Mr. Coleman so clearly put it, “I was born and raised in this community. I lived here all my life. I grew up on the Lake. This is home for me.”
 “Grand Kankakee Marsh.” Accessed November 4, 2022. https://www.potawatomiheritage.com/encyclopedia/grand-kankakee-marsh/; “A Look Back: Kankakee Marsh was the largest inland wetlands in the U.S.,” South Bend Tribune, April 9, 2018. Accessed November 4, 2022. https://www.southbendtribune.com/story/news/local/2018/04/09/a-look-back-kankakee-marsh-was-largest-wetlands-in-us/116955548/.
 “Next Year’s Ice,” South Bend Tribune, December 1, 1880, 1.
 “Large Ice Company,” South Bend Tribune, October 5, 1903, 1. The Cooperative Ice and Fuel corporation merged at least twenty separate ice companies under one monopoly valued at $40,000 (worth approximately $1.3 million in 2022). One of the directors of the new corporation was Frank Hering—football coach for the University of Notre Dame and benefactor of the eponymous African American community center featured in this book.
 Bendix was not a key industry during the first World War. The sprawling Bendix plant (present-day Honeywell) was built in the late 1920s.
 Willie Mae Butts, interview by David Healey, March 21, 2003, Indiana University South Bend Civil Rights Heritage Center. https://archive.org/details/OH-Butts-WillieMae-2003-03-21.
 So too did Charles Black, who would later be honored as the namesake of the Charles Black Recreation Center.
 George McCullough, interviewed by Dr. Les Lamon, August 15, 2003, Indiana University South Bend Civil Rights Heritage Center. Mr. McCullough stated that the barrack he lived in was “torn down to make way for the [Charles Black] recreation center.” https://archive.org/details/OH-McCullough-George-2003-08-15.
 “Boy is Drowned at Water Hole,” South Bend Tribune, June 19, 1931, 32.
 Lynn Coleman, interviewed by Amy Selner and Jennifer Fanning, August 17, 2001, Indiana University South Bend Civil Rights Heritage Center. https://archive.org/details/OH-Coleman-Lynn-2001-08-17.
 “Ask Improvements for LaSalle Park,” South Bend Tribune, April 27, 1959, 15
 “Agencies Weigh Projects for City,” South Bend Tribune, March 6, 1961, 15.
 “Park Group to Talk on Urban Renewal,” South Bend Tribune, March 8, 1961, 23.
 “Residents Oppose Renewal Prospect,” South Bend Tribune, March 10, 1961, 22. Subsequent community feedback tapered this stark headline. It seems that a strong majority of residents were in favor of community improvements—they were just careful about the impacts those improvements would entail.
 Lewis Haber, “Ask Sanction of LaSalle Park Project,” South Bend Tribune, March 23, 1962, 21.
 Ibid.; Nancy Kavadas, “U.S. Funds Authorized for Survey,” South Bend Tribune, March 26, 1965, 21.
 “Plan LaSalle Park Recreation Area,” South Bend Tribune, October 13, 1965, 33.
 Laurance Morrison, “LaSalle Park Group Wants Lake Saved,” South Bend Tribune, October 12, 1966, 67.
 “Opinion: To Be or Not To Be,” South Bend Tribune, October 17, 1966, 8
 Rev. Joseph A. Schneiders, “Letter: Bill of Goods,” South Bend Tribune, October 24, 1966, 8.
 Laurance Morrison, “Hope Dwells at Lowest Ebb in LaSalle Park Houses,” South Bend Tribune, April 6, 1967, 25
 Laurance Morrison, “Start LaSalle Park Rat Battle,” South Bend Tribune, April 10, 1967, 17. Also, horrifyingly, “toxic gas [was] pumped into snake lairs which course through the project.” I cannot begin to guess the impact of those gasses on children or anyone else near enough to it.
 Marchmont Kovas, “Allen responds to LaSalle Grievances,” South Bend Tribune, August 9, 1966, 15. It is reasonable to assume that the youngsters were not the only community members who were tired of waiting.
 George Neagu, interviewed by Dr. Les Lamon and Candice Leuthold, Feb 25, 2002, Indiana University South Bend Civil Rights Heritage Center.
 City of South Bend Board of Public Safety. “Report…,” 6.
 Ibid., 4-5.
 David Robinson, “Attackers Damage…”
 Ibid.; David Robinson, “Attackers Damage Fire Equipment,” South Bend Tribune, July 26, 1967, 1.
 City of South Bend Board of Public Safety. “Report…,” 5.
 Ibid., 5-6.
 Thomas Jewell, “Police Face Extra Hours of Vigilance,” South Bend Tribune, July 26, 1967, 1. About 33 Mishawaka officers and 18 from the sheriff’s office joined them.
 Ibid., 8; Jay Coakley, Robert Ward Duff, James A. Meko, and Mario A. Renzi, “Anatomy of a Riot: South Bend, 1967,” University of Notre Dame, 1968, 4.
 John Bowe, “Shots Erupt After Parley with Council,” South Bend Tribune, July 27, 1967, 1.
 City of South Bend Board of Public Safety. “Report…,” 12.
 Ibid., 13; Jay Coakley, et. al., “Anatomy…,” 6.
Willie Coats, interviewed by David Healey and Mark Coner, April 26, 2005, Indiana University South Bend Civil Rights Heritage Center. https://archive.org/details/CoatsWillie.
City of South Bend Board of Public Safety. “Report…,” 14-15.
Willie Coats, interviewed by David Healey and Mark Coner…
 Jack Colwell, “Police Shotguns Wound Seven Negroes,” South Bend Tribune, July 27, 1967, 1; Jack Colwell, “Guardsmen Return to Homes,” South Bend Tribune, July 30, 1967, 1.
 Jack Colwell, “West Side Tension Eases,” South Bend Tribune, July 28, 1967, 1.
 Thomas Jewell, “City Quieter; Mayor Optimistic,” South Bend Tribune, July 29, 1967, 1.
 Colwell, “Guardsmen Return…”
 “Violence Condemned By 44 Clergymen," South Bend Tribune, July 31, 1967, 5.
 Detroit, Michigan, erupted a day or so before South Bend and was thought to be a precipitating factor fueling our eruption.
 “Razing of 125 Structures to Begin in LaSalle Park,” South Bend Tribune, September 21, 1967, 27.
 “Public Park OK’d in LaSalle Area,” South Bend Tribune, November 15, 1967, 61.
 George McCullough, interviewed by Dr. Les Lamon…; Gail Brodie, interviewed by Dr. Les Lamon, Dr. Monica Tetzlaff, and Derrick Webb, November 27, 2007, Indiana University South Bend Civil Rights Heritage Center. https://archive.org/details/OH-Brodie-Gail-2007-11-27.
 Zelma Zieman, “Screening Site Inspection Report for The Beck’s Lake Site,” U.S. Environmental Protection Agency, June 12, 1989. https://semspub.epa.gov/work/05/905144.pdf; Wayne Falda, “Action Sought on Lake’s Cleanup,” South Bend Tribune, July 24, 1990.
 Wayne Falda, “Action Sought…”; Wayne Falda, “IDEM Sees No Imminent Risk at Old Beck Lake Dump Site,” South Bend Tribune, July 26, 1990, 25. Incredibly, IDEM’s statement was made almost exactly twenty-three years after the onset of the 1967 uprising.
 Jeff Parrott, “Uncovering Secrets of a Buried Legacy,” South Bend Tribune, May 10, 2005, 1.
 Erin Blasko, “EPA Targets Beck’s Lake,” South Bend Tribune, May 22, 2013, A1.
 “BECK’S LAKE Site Profile.” Accessed December 7, 2022. https://cumulis.epa.gov/supercpad/SiteProfiles/index.cfm?fuseaction=second.cleanup&id=0501954.
 Jakob Lazarro, “EPA Overseeing Cleanup, Lead Soil Removal at Beck’s Lake Superfund Site,” WVPE-88.1, February 25, 2022. Accessed November 1, 2022, https://www.wvpe.org/wvpe-news/2022-02-25/epa-overseeing-cleanup-lead-soil-removal-at-becks-lake-superfund-site-in-south-bends-lasalle-park.
 Karen White, interviewed by Dr. Monica Tetzlaff, Dustin Tam, and Muhammad Shabazz, June 29, 2010., Indiana University South Bend Civil Rights Heritage Center. https://archive.org/details/OH-White-Karen-2010-06-29.
 Lynn Coleman, interviewed by Amy Selner and Jennifer Fanning…