Met Council Pioneer Leaves City

On Jane Benedict

by Franz Lehman

It was another May in the year 1987 and 1,500 tenants made their annual pilgrimage to Albany in the wild hope of converting the state legislature into a pro-tenant body. This time we had a better prognosis, as recently re-elected Governor Mario Cuomo had promised to work for the passage of the Leichter-Sanders tenant protection bill.

In a positive mood, tenants stood massed and singing in the second-floor corridor of the capitol building, an area usually reserved for the solemnity and remoteness of governing the state of New York. Leading them were the Reverend Timothy Mitchell and Al Chapman (of Northwest Bronx
Community and Clergy), who were busily engaged in trying to get an audience with the governor, to no avail. After a little respite, the clamor rose up
again, and people started to get worked up, frustrated about not getting a redress of grievances.

Someone tapped me on the shoulder, to get me to pay attention to something
happening behind my back. Turning around, I found that we had succeeded in flushing Governor Cuomo out of his office. Up on a table he stood, next to
Jane Benedict. With gracious tones and beneficent smiles, the governor welcomed the tenants with the hope that they would find the trip beneficial and to their liking. Jane Benedict, in silence and with a beatific expression, listened.

The governor expressed his willingness to listen to our complaints, with the caveat that we were to “select a dozen or so of your representatives for a close discussion of your demands.” Jane Benedict then put the proposal to all present: “Do you want to accept the governor’s suggestion?”

And with uncompromising spirit, the answer was: “The governor has to talk to us all or the deal is off.”

Reverend Mitchell then negotiated for a suitable place while others rushed to telephones to notify the press. Shortly thereafter we came together in an assembly hall suitable for a large press bash, with reporters from the Albany Times-Union and other news media equipped with cameras ready to roll. Governor Cuomo and Jane Benedict fronted the assembly. Cuomo again greeted
the crowd with elan, feigning some surprise that tenants would be so ungracious as to presume that his administration would relinquish their interests.

"“Everyone knows that our state is foremost in building housing
for the needy and the middle classes.” Jane Benedict reminded him, “We did not come here to discuss housing. We would like to know if the governor still stood for tenant protection laws.”

A discussion ensued on bills in the legislative hopper that needed to come out on the floor for a vote and whether Cuomo still stood for their passage. Cuomo addressed Jane as “Jane” and it was with little comfort that the debate went on. We learned that if no bill passed that legislative season, it would be the Republicans’ fault.

But it was the only time that tenants were able to confront a governor in his mansion, and we thank Jane Benedict for that!

Jane’s stature as a leader in the housing movement goes back to her father, who was one of the few white officers of the NAACP and a founder of the National Lawyers Guild. She became executive of the Book and Magazine Union
Local #18, and she was co-founder of the American Labor Party and campaign manager for Congressman Vito Marcantonio.

In the early 1950s, she was instrumental in getting the City Council to pass the Brown-Isaacs bill, barring racial discrimination in publicly assisted housing. The bill was particularly significant for Stuyvesant Town, whose builders had received a tax abatement from the city, yet still barred black people.

After the ALP’s demise, Jane helped form the Yorkville Save Our Homes Committee, in a period when real estate moved mightily to destroy rent controls, established under consumer-price regulations during World War II.
The struggle was fierce and Jane realized that it could only be won by joining with other tenant organizations and consumer groups. Metropolitan Council on Housing was the result of that union.

The uniqueness of Met Council is that it receives no outside funding, that it is a union supported by its members and beholden to no one except its
members. It was Jane Benedict’s vision, and remained so even when she reduced her activities and became honorary chairperson, who gracefully
defers to an incredible staff that honors Met Council’s mission.

Jane has moved to Oakland, California to live next to her son Jim and we all miss her.

by Scott Sommer

Jane, while diminutive in physical stature, has an incredibly large and
powerful presence. She has been an inspiration to me as well as many others, and a mentor and a friend. She is also quite captivating and can hold a group’s attention without resorting to shouting, raising her voice, or histrionics. Jane is clearly blessed with the ability and gift of being able to talk to people of all different backgrounds, political beliefs,
educational levels, and cultures without being condescending, patronizing, or nasty.

But on top of these gifts, she had one gift which could never be matched by anyone I have known. Jane can talk forever and hold the listener’s attention. This came in very handy for me once when upon arriving at the WBAI studio one Saturday night to broadcast another live edition of “Housing Notebook,” I noticed (approximately three minutes before air time) that some equipment was broken that needed to be fixed immediately in order
for me to run some tape.

In a pinch, what to do? Do what any other self-respecting desperate housing activist would do. Call Jane Benedict. Luckily I found Jane at home and I asked her if she could speak on the air for seven minutes or so without stopping and give an historical perspective on the attacks on rent and eviction protections. Without hesitation she said yes. Not only was she engrossing as always, but she almost distracted me from what I needed to
fix, because I wanted to jump in and ask questions!

It is hard to imagine Met Council without Jane’s presence. However, we fully expect that Jerry Brown, the mayor of Oakland, California, her new city of residence, is already quaking at the thought of Jane’s inevitable arrival at City Hall someday soon demanding justice for the residents of Oakland.

by David Powell

In the summer of ’96 I received a postcard announcing that Rudolph Giuliani was having a “town hall” meeting at a local Catholic school in my neighborhood. I live in Bay Ridge—one of the few neighborhoods in Brooklyn
where Giuliani could get away with praising himself in public.

I was pissed. I wanted very badly to go to that meeting and to somehow
interrupt the mayor’s patronizing flow of self-praise. I wanted to communicate to people in “Giuliani territory” that the man before them was destroying our city. I called every activist group I knew, inviting them to protest in Bay Ridge and also asking if they had good leaflets or fact
sheets that spelled out why “hizzoner” was a menace. Somebody suggested
that I call Met Council. When I called, Jane Benedict picked up the phone.
We talked for about half an hour.

I can’t tell you exactly what she said—but it must have been good stuff,
because I’ve been involved with Met Council ever since. I hope nobody for
gets that Jane ran on a healthy mixture of compassion and anger. That’s one
of the reasons I love her. She called it as she saw it. She knew that rage is a natural response to injustice and she didn’t suppress those feelings. She also knew who deserved to be a target: Anybody who caught hell from Jane Benedict definitely had it coming. At the same time, she knew how to focus that rage in a very effective way—she used it to build. She understood that the best way to stick it to those bastards—and to
survive—is to organize.

She was also one of the kindest people I’ve ever met.

I miss Jane—but she’s earned her “time off” many times over. The left coast has inherited a great human being. I hope that when I leave the table, I will have given even a fraction of the work and dedication she gave to the tenants of New York. Jane is gone from the scene, but the battle for housing justice is as fierce as ever in our city. Continuing that fight is the only way to honor a tenant warrior like Jane Benedict. There is a gap where she once stood—so step forward people, we’re waitin’ for ya…