Rita Chappelle, The Examiner
2007-05-29 07:00:00.0
Current rank: Not ranked

BALTIMORE -

He is known to provoke the anger of the rank and file of the Baltimore City Police Department. He has gone toe to toe with the governor, Baltimore City’s mayor, the president of Johns Hopkins University and local business leaders.

He’s not afraid to speak his mind on behalf of his members or any other group that calls on his organization for help.

His name? Marvin “Doc” Cheatham, president of the Baltimore City branch of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People.

His members are as diverse in race as they are in class, and many have drawn Cheatham’s wrath as adversaries.

Some are known, others less known.

But the diaspora that comprises his growing member base also makes his branch one of the most active in the world.

Cheatham rattles off some names: “Orioles owner and lawyer Peter Angelos, Mayor Sheila Dixon, Gov. Martin O’Malley, lawyer Peter Nichols, they’re all lifetime members.”

Though the organization guards its membership closely, members often boast of their relationship with the organization.

“[Cheatham] has a lot of energy, and that has been good for the local NAACP,” Dixon said. “I continue to support the NAACP, because I want to be a part of making a difference in Baltimore and the country, and my membership puts me at an advantage in doing that.”

O’Malley, as governor and former Baltimore mayor, has felt the intense heat Cheatham can generate.

He was often at odds with Cheatham over racial-profiling tactics employed by Baltimore City police. False arrests and the lack of a minority presence within the upper echelons of the city’s police and fire departments put the organization directly in his face.

However, he remains a supporter.

“As mayor of Baltimore, I enjoyed a strong working relationship with the NAACP in making progress in a number of areas,” O’Malley said.

“We worked together to reduce violent crime and improve public schools and community development. I maintain my membership in the city branch, because it has played a prominent role in civil rights and in improving the lives of people in both Baltimore and the country.”

In its 98-year history, the NAACP has weathered the ebbs and flows of America’s ever-changing social, political and moral tides to remain the world’s premier civil rights organization when others have faded into obscurity.

During its heyday in the 1940s and 1950s, total membership topped 600,000.

Today, it’s 400,000.

However, the Baltimore branch under Cheatham is helping to revive the organization through targeted recruitment of 18- to 25-year-olds.

Today, the branch, with around 200 youth members, has the second-largest youth membership and eighth-largest overall membership in the world. The branch with the largest number is in Detroit, with many of those members coming from unions.

“We still face the issues that sprouted this organization — racial discrimination, hate crimes, job and wealth disparities,” Cheatham said.

“This organization is still much-needed. However, it cannot move forward if we have not trained today’s youth on its history, social significance and [its ability] to lead. To reach them, we must access the mediums they come in contact with — the Internet, blogs, schools, colleges and churches.”

“I admire him because he is truly, deeply committed to the citizens of Baltimore,” said NAACP member Kimberly Haven, who is executive director of Justice Maryland, a nonprofit advocacy group that partners with the NAACP on social-justice issues pertaining to inmate rights.

“Without fail, Cheatham and the NAACP are the ones the city’s poor can still go to for help. Without him, they would be voiceless.”

Cheatham receives no pay other than the reward of having helped others.

The hours are long, usually seven days a week, and he’s on call all the time. His wife, Annette, shares him with the city’s residents who are disenfranchised, poor and downtrodden.

And he still manages to hold down the same job he’s had for the past 36 years — elections specialist with the National Labor Relations Board.

Before taking over from then-President G.I. Jones in 2004, Cheatham was president of the Baltimore chapter of the Southern Christian Leadership Committee.

NAACP board members felt the city branch was too aligned with city officials and was more of a mouthpiece for their agenda than an advocate for the needs and concerns of city residents.

“No one was speaking out on the issues,” Cheatham said. “No one took the mayor to task, and that is the mission of the NAACP. We have to be both advocate and agitator for the community.”

Since taking the helm, Cheatham, 57, is not only the loudest voice, but also often the only one championing the cause of the city’s underserved. He is the first — and typically the only — official to go to the homes of murder and rape victims or to the homes of those who have suffered alleged police brutality.

He gave a face to the organization and a voice to the community.

It was Cheatham and the NAACP that called for an FBI and Department of Justice investigation into the brutal beating death of Raymond Smoot at the hands of city corrections officers.

Those inquiries led to convictions.

Cheatham also led the protest against racial-profiling tactics employed by city police officers in making thousands of unwarranted arrests of black males.

The NAACP, along with the American Civil Liberties Union, filed a lawsuit against the police department to have those arrests, where no charges were filed, expunged.

Cheatham has blamed the New York-style policing tactics of former Police Commissioner Edward Norris for those arrests. It remains a point of contention between the two men.

“I didn’t work with [Cheatham] when I was commissioner. G.I. Jones was the president then,” said Norris, now a radio host on WHFS.

“I was interviewing him on my show, and things got heated. Cheatham knew that when I was chief, the NAACP gave me an award, and he said, ‘You never should have gotten that award.’ I thought it was a cheap shot.”

Norris said he was disappointed Cheatham halted the monthly meetings he had initiated between police and the NAACP.

“It was a great opportunity for open dialogue, strategizing and working together,” he said.

Cheatham’s displeasure with city police keeps them under the public microscope, as he draws attention to cases where he suspects police are being excessive. Such as the arrests of Gerard Mungo Jr., 7, and later his mother, Likisha Dinkins.

“To arrest a 7-year-old for sitting on a dirt bike that is not even turned on, and then to harass his mother for speaking up about it, now that’s what’s criminal,” Cheatham said.

He has tackled diversity in the workplace by taking on the formidable Johns Hopkins University about its recruitment, promotion and retention of minority faculty.

“A lot of people don’t worry about what’s happening to [blacks] as long as it doesn’t impact them. We are the forgotten,” said Helen Williams, of East Baltimore.

“But Doc cares. Without him, the police would run rampant over here, because nobody gives a damn.”

Late last year, Cheatham received a letter that contained a white powder.

“I just knew it was anthrax and that my life would soon come to an end,” Cheatham said.

“I called my wife to tell her I loved her. Then I called my vice president and told him not to give up the work we had begun — no matter what.”

An analysis of the powder revealed it to be boric acid, but the scare clarified for Cheatham that his work was indeed ruffling feathers.

To increase that pressure, Cheatham has partnered the NAACP with such groups as CASA de Maryland, Justice Maryland and HERO on such issues as the plight of illegal aliens, AIDS, ground rents, voting rights for ex-offenders, education, affordable housing and health care.

Last September, when voting polls in Baltimore City opened late, Cheatham and the NAACP successfully sued the Board of Elections, forcing the city to keep polls open later than usual.

“Voting rights and discrimination are the meat and potatoes of the NAACP,” Cheatham said.

“To not keep the polls open late to accommodate a late start is illegal. We just wanted to ensure people had the chance to vote.”

Cheatham does not reserve his fervor only for city officials. At the beginning of the year, he directed it at the community he serves.

“One of the first murders of the year was at the McCullough Homes projects,” Cheatham said.

“We went out there and held a rally telling the residents that they have to become more involved in stemming the tide of violence in their own community. I told the drug addicts that if they are committing crimes to support their habits that they need to go for treatment. I told the drug dealers to stop killing one another and to come to us to help them get job training.”

Some of them came, most did not.

“I may not have gotten them now, but we may get them later,” Cheatham said.

“There will be some issue in their lives or their families, and we will be there for them. The struggle is not over. There are still more wrongs to be righted, and the NAACP will still be there to stand in the gap for those who don’t have the resources or education to do it for themselves.”

rchappelle@baltimoreexaminer.com