Midwestern manners are mostly casual about names, and I call almost everyone by their given name after first meeting them. But not everyone. There are some people whom one instinctively calls 'mister' or 'missus.' These are people whose leadership is most often shown through deeds of quiet, self-effacing courage and persistence. Charles Billups was one such.
I first met Mr. Billups early in Al McWilliams' first term. He was the leader of the East Sixth Street Block Association, and was concerned about neighborhood conditions, especially drug dealing and gunplay in the area.
Mr. Billups was a man of quiet dignity, easy-going mostly, and good company. But he was fiercely committed to improving conditions for his neighborhood and the decent people who live and raise their families there.
And that commitment made him persist on his neighborhood's behalf for improvements he felt were necessary.
Though police coverage improved over the years and some of the drug-dealing was eased, Mr. Billups strongly believed that pole-mounted street cameras would help cut down on the drug traffic by making buyers -- especially out-of-town buyers -- think twice before coming into the neighborhood, knowing that their cars and license plates would be recorded.
It was a great vision, and Mr. Billups lobbied for it tirelessly, privately and in public.
Mayor McWilliams and the City Council expressed their support and plans were made to purchase and install the much-desired cameras. However, roadblocks always kept the project from coming to fruition: placing and wiring the cameras to the police station, how to provide for monitoring, and how the long-term costs would be absorbed.
The city has yet to install any public surveillance cameras, but thanks to Mr. Billups' efforts the issue has been put squarely on the agenda. Business people downtown are very interested in seeing them installed. So are leaders of other neighborhood organizations. The technology has improved dramatically and costs have been driven down.
Mr. Billups may not have lived to see the cameras come to his neighborhood, but the seed he planted has grown and now it is up to a new administration to bring it to pass.
Charles Billups fought the good fight, and has earned a crown of victory. He will be sorely missed and always appreciated. And maybe, just maybe, the memory of his quiet, dignified insistence will move the powers that be to bring his project to fruition.
Rest in peace, Mr. Billups. Get to work, Plainfield!
-- Dan Damon
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