Mayor Zohran Kwame Mamdani: Good morning, my friends. What a good morning it is. Because frankly, it's a good morning any time you get to start the day in Harlem. And it is certainly a good morning to be in the presence of the one and only Reverend Al.
Now, it's a joy to be on this stage along so many leaders here in our city. We have our speaker, Julie Menin; we have our comptroller, Mark Levine; we have our district attorney, Alvin Bragg. And I have to give a little bit of extra love for our very own CCRB chair, Jennifer Jones Austin, and so many other esteemed leaders who are here with us, because we're all gathering for the man himself.
And whenever I think about the Rev., I think of the old quote: "It is true that everything has been said, but not everyone has said it." And so, now it is my chance. It is a chance because it's rare to have an opportunity to speak about someone for whom you can find inspiration in every decade of their life. And that is Reverend Al.
When I think about Reverend Al in the '60s, I think about someone who learned of how to fight for the poor, the forgotten, the abandoned, from the Reverend Jesse Jackson himself; and as a young man who worked to transform our city through Operation Breadbasket.
There is the Reverend Al in the '70s, who walked with purpose alongside James Brown. I've got to be honest; I would not have been able to pull off the bell bottoms.
There is the Reverend Al who led marches and protests through the '80s, who called on leaders in the '90s to find compassion in their hearts, who spoke truth to power in the 2000s when no one else dared. Who in every year, whichever one you are looking for, has waged fights that have started as lonely ones but have ended as popular ones - fights for justice, fights for those who have so often been forgotten.
And the Reverend Al of right now, who preaches with power and purpose from the pulpit; who carries clarity across the airwaves, whether you're watching on TV, YouTube or listening on radio; who organizes with vision and wisdom.
And whichever Reverend Al you're speaking of, whichever decade you're looking to, you're speaking about the same man. You're speaking about a consistency. Someone who all of us on this stage and beyond come to for guidance, for grace, for an understanding of what should be expected of us in this moment in time.
And together, all of these Reverend Als make up a man whose birthday it is that we are here to celebrate today. A man who has shaped our city and our nation, who still wakes up long before the sun has begun its rise and drinks green juice hours before any of us have gotten out of bed. Every time I wake up, I'm like, "He's already awake."
And there's a story about the Rev. from nearly 50 years ago that, to me, encapsulates his courage, his commitment, his tenacity.
There's a room in City Hall called the Blue Room, where for generations mayors have held press conferences and meetings with leading figures. It was there in April 1978 that Rev. Al and a number of Black ministers sat down with then-Mayor Ed Koch. They wanted to talk about young Black and Hispanic New Yorkers who needed more opportunities. They wanted to talk about how City government could help to provide those opportunities. They asked for 200,000 summer jobs. Mayor Koch told them it wouldn't be possible. He got up and he left.
Now, he was counting on Reverend Al and the other ministers to do the same, but he should have known better. The Reverend Al we all know and love does not simply get up and walk away when he senses injustice, or when he thinks that those with power are not exercising it on the people's behalf.
So, on that April day, after the then-mayor left the Blue Room, Reverend Al and his fellow ministers walked a few steps from the room to the mayor's office and sat down again. It took a dozen policemen to get these four men out of City Hall and into a patrol wagon.
And 48 years later, I tell this story not only to praise the Rev. for his steadfast commitment to justice, but because the same number of jobs he was calling for nearly 50 years ago is the same number of Black New Yorkers who've been pushed out of this city since the year 2000.
I say this because the Rev. is not just someone who is persistent; he is also someone who is prescient. He is someone who knows of what the cost of inaction will be. And so, what he asked for 48 years ago was not given. And so, instead, 26 years ago, we saw the beginning of a reverse of a great migration.
And we are speaking about 200,000 people, we are speaking about our friends, we are speaking about our neighbors, we are speaking about people who have left this city because it costs too much here to live a dignified life. Because opportunity always feels too far away, no matter how many buses you get on or trains you take. Because they have been ignored and forgotten by those who have the power to make a change.
So, as we celebrate the Rev.'s birthday, I also want to celebrate the Rev.'s living legacy of what those years have meant, of what they should remind us to do. Because in his life, what I see also is an urgency for all of us to understand our own responsibilities on that path.
That is a path for universal childcare. That is the path for making sure that we have the strongest tenants' rights in the country. That is a path to ensuring that people can not only afford to rent but also afford to buy. And that is a path to ensure that a grocery bag is never out of reach for somebody who is working hard in the city.
And what I ask is that as we celebrate an icon of this city and, frankly, of this country, we do so also by standing up to injustice wherever we see it. We do so also by understanding that the reason the Rev. has been able to do so much is that he has also inspired a generation after a generation to understand that our place is not simply to watch the Rev., it is to stand alongside the Rev.
So, Rev., thank you for having set the example. Thank you for having set the pace. And now it's up to the rest of us to catch up. Happy birthday, my friend.
