The most fearful moment of my career as a deaconess
was halfway through year seven of my appointment to the
challenging ministries of the Wesley Community Center in
Portsmouth, Virginia. Our neighboring church of historic
Methodism was two blocks west and north. Our neighboring Child
Service Center, a day-care operation, was two blocks west and
south. Together we provided a triangular setting for multiple
services. These program ministries were very important for our
neighborhood, almost completely changed from Caucasian to
African-American.The Talent Show, scheduled this night for the church fellowship hall, had been moved to the community center. Our pastor, the first African-American appointed to the church, was concerned that some of the dance numbers might be inappropriate for a church setting. The show opened, and the house was packed. The program numbers moved along. The "Jackson Five," a group of talented neighborhood youth (who looked and sounded like the originals) were being wildly applauded. Suddenly, there was a loud noise, sounding like gunfire, and movement toward the hallway and the front exit began. Discovering that the noise was a brick thrown by an unhappy nonparticipant, I hastened to the front steps. I thought I could return the group, and the show could continue as another staff member worked with the brick-thrower.
Outside the small auditorium, into the hallway, through the front doors and down six or eight steps, the mass-movement continued. I felt myself being swept into the crowd and moved forward by it. I had no control of where my body was going. I could feel no anger in the group, only fear. Soon that fear was enveloping me as I thought how easy it would be for us to trample each other. Would we get through this night without injuries? Within seconds I was on the sidewalk. I could not remember placing my foot on any step, but I was in safe roller-skating territory. The crowd on the street was still moving, walking fast now or running, moving in smaller groups in homeward directions.
I walked quietly, touching every step, into the center lounge. I felt I knew a great deal more about the power of fear and crowd panic. I knew that tomorrow would bring a better day, and that in the days ahead we would more carefully plan the details of all activities.
--Ruth Mayhall