We first met Bill Stringfellow in 1967 when, with our brother Dan, we went to Bill's Harlem apartment. Meeting us at the door, Bill was gracious but reserved.
We still recall the vividness of his bathroom walls and ceiling. The motif was a circus tent—all surfaces were draped with red-and-white-striped awning material. The circus was one of Bill's passions, and in his descriptions Barnum and Bailey were immortalized as never before.
Bill loved hats. He owned several emblazoned with circus markings and a summer straw hat he wore to greet the governor of Rhode Island on the governor's annual summer visits to Block Island. In the spring of 1984, Bill indulged the yearning of many years. He bought and wore an authentic Brooks Brothers bowler in which he looked stunning!
In 1970 Dan darted underground into hiding from the FBI, which sought him for his role in the Catonsville, Maryland anti-Vietnam War action, which also involved our brother Phil. Typically responding to human need, Bill and his friend Anthony Towne traveled from Block Island to Syracuse, New York, to offer support and solidarity to Mom Berrigan and us.
Outside our house lurked the FBI on 24-hour watch. Quickly our two friends told us, "Dan is due soon on Block Island, incognito. He needs rest and relaxation. We hope he'll be there for two weeks."
That visit brought to our home an enjoyable evening of serious talk marked with mirth and wry humor. We found that Bill and Anthony were personal and winsome to our young children, with whom they dialogued respectfully. As our guests assumed maturity in children, they had a knack for creating it. Our four were no exception.
On August 11, 1970, Dan's "life in the underground" ended when he was arrested at Eschaton. Tipped off to his presence there, the federal agents first posed as bird watchers and then, like condors, swooped. At once Bill and Anthony phoned us with the news. Afterward they framed and hung on their common room wall Dan's toothbrush, a wry memento of life's twists and privations.
When the Vietnam War and our brothers' prison terms ended, we made annual treks to Block Island to restore ourselves with Eschaton hospitality. Our last summer in company with Bill on Block Island was during 1984. There we continued our usual delightful custom: Every second night Bill prepared a dinner and invited us to eat at his place. Alternately we made the meal at a nearby cottage where we stayed, and Bill joined us there.
Always the mealtime was marked by sprightly conversation, anecdotes, and views of our times and of our realities in economic, churchly, and social areas. To those supper meetings in 1984, Bill brought for sharing and discussion the manuscript of his final book, The Politics of Spirituality.
How to conclude so sketchy a summary of events in the life of William Stringfellow? With a tribute? Volumes can be written. Let us propose this one: He was a man of decency and acumen, grace and courage, who decided for himself that justice offered a worthy context for his concerns and involvements. That decision made, its aftermath was automatic. He became a lawyer who challenged law to be itself instead of an arbitrary abstraction or cover for chicanery. He challenged law to be what scripture said it must become: a guide for acting fairly. In that challenge lies his worthiest epitaph.
Jerome and Carol Berrigan were members of the Syracuse, New York peace community when this article appeared.
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