A conversation with John Larry

The candidate for alder of district 8 describes how he wants to "reshape the narrative" of Wauwatosa

These are highlights from a two-hour conversation I had with John Larry on March 30. Part (I) covers certain significant events in his past and their intersection with Wauwatosa, part (II) describes some of his ongoing relationships with the city and its elected officials, part (III) touches on his vision for the future of Wauwatosa, and in part (IV) I talk about the role of optics and narrative in politics, an implicit theme that ran through our entire conversation.

I.

One technique when interviewing is to ask broad, open-ended questions and to let the interviewee go where they will. They not only end up answering other questions you have, but may also, through the chain of associations they make in doing so, reveal in broad strokes the way they organize and perceive their own life. John Larry came to prominence as a vocal protester in and around the city of Wauwatosa during the summer and fall of 2020 following the murder of George Floyd in Minneapolis and the killing of Alvin Cole by former Wauwatosa Police Department officer Joseph Mensah and is now running for alder of District 8.

So when I asked John Larry how he came to find himself at this point—a black man living in a community that is 85 percent white, former chair of an ad-hoc committee on policing and systemic inequities, the center of a video that captured him during a protest at the house of Wauwatosa’s Mayor telling a police officer that he'd “knock the shit out of [him],” and now a candidate running for elected office—he started with his home in Chicago, and he spoke, mostly uninterrupted, for 30 minutes.

[Note: Quotations have been edited for clarity. I sometimes combine statements from different parts of the interview if they touched on the same subject, and I’ve tried to indicate this where it is done. Quotations of my own speech, when they appear, are in bold.]

My wife is from the Chicagoland area. I’m actually from Chicago. I moved here originally for teaching after working at a school with a friend who was from Wisconsin. We were working at the same school, and we would talk about opening an all boys school. Just to give hope to boys in the city.

[...]

I had been teaching already for a little bit of time, and there was this prison pipeline theory out there. Especially with black and brown kids—boys in particular. So we started exploring that, just because we had seen a lot of potential in boys […]—based on looking at some data from other all-boys schools, one in Chicago, I believe on the Southside[…]—when the distraction is lessened and the focus is more on academia. And, if not academia, then skills, using skills, apart from sports and things like that.

This, he tells me, was 15 years ago. He bought a home in the River West neighborhood of Milwaukee, and though his ambitions eventually shifted from opening a school of his own to focusing on building his teaching career, he wanted to stay in the area.  After several years, he and his wife sold their first house to realize some of the appreciation in its value over the years and purchased a foreclosed property in Wauwatosa approximately 5 years ago. At first, he didn't take a deep interest in the city or its politics.

Until, of course the George Floyd incident happened. But also learning about the situation with former Tosa officer Joseph Mensah. In particular with the situation that occurred in the Mayfair Mall. […] Because Alvin Cole¹ was a student of mine in third grade, at the school I came up from Chicago to work at. [...] I knew his sister too—one of his sisters—because she was in middle school when I was there, and he was in my third grade class. So after George Floyd and learning about this incident that had occurred with former Tosa Officer Joseph Mensah, I started to get more involved in the politics of Tosa. Really looking at the matrix of Tosa, and how it’s made up, the demographics. And just comparing and contrasting the ethnic make up of it, knowing that its predominately white.

He found himself going to city hall, protesting with the People’s Revolution² and other organizations. “I was just out there trying to use my voice in whatever way that I could. So I joined with these other groups. When it first started there were thousands of people. But I think the dynamics of that were, we were in a pandemic, people didn’t really have anything to do, you know what I mean?”

When I asked him whether the fact that Joseph Mensa was also black changed how he understood what happened, he replied: “I think its a bigger issue of law enforcement and civilians—those interactions. And then, if we’re looking at it from Well, he was a black officer but shot and killed three black and brown males, it’s like, Wait, what?"

In John Larry's view, the dynamics of a black civilian’s interaction with a black police officer is less about the racial affinity between the two than the institutional imperatives of the roles in which they find themselves. One is a police officer; another is, at least in the police officer’s eyes, a potential and perhaps likely, criminal:

There’s almost a tendency to think that I have an ally in you, especially as a black or brown person if you wear the badge. But then it’s the reality that kicks in where there are these dynamics where it doesn’t matter what the ethnicity is. You’re wearing a badge, I’m a civilian, and, in the case of Wauwatosa, as a black or brown person, if I’m traveling through a place like Tosa, I’m more subject than my counterparts to be racially profiled, no matter what the ethnicity of the officer is. It’s just a stigma.

Around this time in our conversation, he brings up, unprompted, a video published by Wisconsin Right Now where he’s seen threating a Wauwatosa Police Officer. John described the additional context that was not captured:

On the surface, when you probably type in my name in Google, there are several things that come up. One may be a video with an interaction between myself and former Tosa Lieutenant Farina. And him and I had some words for each other, you know? On a night where we were in front of the mayor’s house, and I was at the home, and I heard a couple times, a couple females say, ‘Get your hands off me, get your hands off me,’ I’m like, ‘What in the world is going on?’ So I go down and find out that [Lieutenant] Farina had put his hands on a couple of females that were part of the protest. They weren’t being apprehended, they weren’t being arrested, so why are you putting your hands on them? And so I interpreted it as a misuse and abuse of power. […] So, him and I exchanged some words with each other.

But he also explains that his interactions with Lieutenant Farina go back weeks, even months, earlier to when the protests first started, that they were often cordial, and that following the videotaped incident in front of the Mayor's home, they continued to be. “Farina and I had started off with, I don’t want to say great rapport, but we had a level of respect for each other.” As an example, he describes one protest in front of City Hall, where he and ten or fifteen others continued to the mall and resumed their activities there.

And Farina was there, and he basically helped lead the way. He would say, 'Hey traffic was starting to build up so could you all move over.' I would say, 'Oh okay, come on let’s move over,' you know what I mean? So that was our first interaction. We had a mutual respect.

As the protests dragged on for weeks, John could sense the police department's patience wearing thin, though he describes his relationship with Lieutenant Farina following the interaction captured on video as one of continuing mutual respect, and even support.

Time goes on. And Farina and I, we still have these side conversations. And that’s what I was telling a couple groups at a meet and greet and at another meeting I had with this neighborhood association. That what wasn’t shown or exposed was that Farina and I were still having conversations. On the side. Like, Hey, yeah, I lost my cool, I lost my cool, whatever. You know what I mean? Or, I’m not taking it personally. It’s just professional. So him and I would still have these side conversations.

Following the protest in front of Mayor McBride's home, John was issued a citation by Lt. Farina but then eventually, with Lt. Farina’s support, got it dismissed:

There was an incident that occurred with Farina, again, when he was a Lieutenant. Him and about two or three other cops, it was like four squad cars that showed up in front of my place. And he walked over to issue a disorderly conduct ticket for $1,300 or $1,400 dollars or something. It wasn’t legal. [It was dismissed] because of [Lt.] Farina later. He was speaking highly of me to the attorney. That’s what I’m saying. Like the optics was— Him and I were still, every now and then, we would have conversations. I think there was a mutual respect. I respected him in his position as Lieutenant. He respected me as an outspoken civilian and resident of Tosa.

Later in our conversation after more reflection, he says,

I really do think that at the end of the day, [Lieutenant] Farina was doing his job. And how could I be mad at that? And at the end of the day, he knew I was out in the streets using my voice in whatever way I knew how as best as I could, to help open eyes of the other side and to, in some sort of way, obtain justice for these families. And I think that—what I told these other people—I think if people were able to contact him, he would say, ‘John’s a great guy.’ as he was the primary cause of getting my ticket dismissed. He would say that, and—honestly, with 100 percent confidence—would say, 'Vote John for alder person. That’s what I truly believe.'

Joseph Mensa resigned from the police department in November, 2020. He now works for the Sheriff's Department in Waukesha County. In February, 2021, Wauwatosa Police Department Chief Barry Webber retired after a 48-year career and 31-years as chief. Since the protests and Webber's retirement, a new police chief has been hired, James MacGillis. John feels the changes have been positive. He describes some of the interactions he's had since then:

I’m hoping, and want to believe, that’s changing with new leadership, but I’m not 100 percent sure.

When I sat and talked with the new chief here, he actually brought up that situation [where Lt. Farina issued him a citation]. Actually, he called me and he apologized for the officers coming up to my house—because it was basically harassment—which I was grateful for. I didn’t expect it.

II.

John acknowledges that his prior actions, and the public perception of him that it has created, might make it more difficult for him to work effectively as an alder. He’s had an adversarial relationship with the Mayor, calling him Mayor McPRIDE in emails to the Common Council or suggesting that he’s a member of the Proud Boys, and admits that they are not on speaking terms, though he would like to change that:

I think it goes back to optics. I was in conversation with a couple alder people, especially Craig Wilson whose spot I’m actually running for. And just...letting Craig know that I’m always open to sit down and have a conversation, and I would tell Craig that often. That I’m definitely willing to sit down and have conversations with Mayor McBride. Always. That’s why I always say the optics look adversarial or the optics look this [way], but behind the scene in closed doors there were other things that were happening. I’m telling Craig, ‘Hey, I’ll extend the olive branch. Let’s sit down and talk.’ Because at the end of the day, whatever’s happening, it’s going to affect him, it’s going to affect me, it’s going to affect the community.

It never happened. Which, I’m...still hoping happens. Especially if I win this seat, right? There’s going to have to be conversations. So I was always willing to...like, he blocked me from emails [John laughs], so I don’t know.

I think as an elected official, there are things you just got to deal with. You recognize that not everybody is going to be pro-you. From my angle, if I were in his seat with that name and a civilian was continually contacting me and addressing me as Mayor McPRIDE, I would have to suck it up. Honestly. Because it comes with the territory of leadership. When I was in that meeting [Note: It’s unclear what meeting he’s referring to, but it may be a meeting of the Ad-hoc committee that he once chaired], there was one guy, he was at me. I could have got up easily and left. Like, forget this meeting. But I sat there, and I took it. And I took it. And I took it.”

I ask him, “But say then, this guy, whoever he was, was someone you had to work with in the future…”

He would actually be someone that I would, in whatever way, befriend, because of his tenacity. And what I saw through his aggressive questioning was a strong passion for his community. So I would say, Oh this guy really cares about his community. Even though the optics look this way, at the end of the day, it would be like a dad who’s drilling a prospective spouse for his daughter. At the end of the day, hopefully the guy would see Oh, he loves and cares for his daughter. That’s why this is happening.

“And that’s how you see yourself?”

Yeah. It just comes with the territory of leadership. If I win this seat, are we going to best friends? Probably, absolutely not. But there will be—just like with [Lt.] Farina—there will be a mutual respect.”

“It seems that you have a sense that you play different roles almost. There’s the role you have as citizen, and you can be vigorous and passionate in your advocacy of different points of view. And you don’t see any contradiction with then playing the role of alderman, where you may disagree but you have to be civil to some extent to get things done.

Yeah, absolutely. Yeah. You can agree to disagree.

When I ask if he would have handled things differently if he knew he'd eventually run for alder of District 8, he acknowledges that it potentially makes things more difficult for him. But he also thinks that his support and prominence within the community stems, in some sense, from that same passionate advocacy for parts of the community that he feels are underserved:

I think of myself as being a reflective practitioner. I think that I’ve learned a lot of overall life lessons. And just learned a lot in general. I think a part of why I was solicited to be a part of ad hoc committee was because of the tenacity and fearlessness I have. At the end of the day, I can’t say I fear much at all. Honestly, I don’t. Not much. And so I think those qualities were seen—as a civilian in City Hall asking questions and engaging in conversation as well as on the streets—I think the incident with Farina and I, those were learning experiences. Again, the optics to the public were one thing, but [they didn’t know] the context or the fact that Farina and I were still having conversations on the side or behind closed doors.

III.

When I ask him what he's most interested in changing or accomplishing as an alder for District 8, he is perhaps necessarily, as someone who has never served in elected office, vague. He feels that he accomplished something tangible while he acted as chair of the Ad-hoc Committee by devising the policy that would require police to wear body cameras. As alder, he would like to figure out ways to increase the housing supply in the city, to make it more attractive for the less wealthy, and to bring in minority business owners. But he also sees himself as a representative for people that tend to go unrepresented here and a voice for people that often remain unheard:

The biggest thing is really embodying the change. I think it was Mahatma Gandhi who talked about that, right? Being the change you wish to see. When it comes to the leadership of the city, there’s no representation of people that look like me. I want to be a voice at the table speaking up not only for myself but for that other five percent [Note: Demographically, Wauwatosa is about five percent African American]. Because I think when you don’t have representation, you are making all of these decisions from a perspective or angle of only people that look like you. And I think that’s limited decision making.

Any aspect you could possibly think of: from public safety, to small and large business owners coming to the city of Wauwatosa, to infrastructure. Just diversifying the city in every aspect and not just limited to...well, we want more diversity as far as housing is concerned. It’s bigger than that. It’s every aspect. Just having more than one perspective. I know there’s a difference of opinion from different people, but all of those individuals still look the same, right? I think the leadership of the city is limited in its decision making, from a perspective angle. Because you look around and all the people look the same. And that’s from the common council, to the school board, to city hall. All the key players, all the individuals who are making these key decisions that impact and effect everybody, they look the same.

Why not change that? In the sense where okay, we have a perspective from people who don’t look like us, because we’re not able to, in a sense, think or understand what they would want. Or the experiences they would like to have. And that’s not to say that one person who is not white is going to have the answer for their whole people group, right? That’s not what I’m saying. But what I am saying is that there should be some sort of representation, right? Just really reshaping the narrative of Tosa. Because Tosa, again for the past two, three years has been in the media. And not for good stuff. So, reshaping that—because I was part of that narrative—helping to reshape from a different perspective and helping move Tosa forward, which is, I think, what Tosa wants.

Instead of the optics being Well, we’ve done this, this, and this. We’ve settled with Joseph Mensah, so we are washing our hands of him. How do we help, overall, to reshape the narrative and move forward? He’s still a part of Tosa, whether he’s working as a Deputy Sheriff in Waukesha or not, right? His name is still here in Tosa. I think that there’s some things that need to happen to help reshape. I know the optics are, people are looking at it as, Oh that was swept under the rug. Or, it’s just back to business as usual while people are still hurting.

When I went to that Neighborhood Association group [for the neighborhood where Jay Anderson Jr. was shot and killed in the park], it’s evident that there still are...one of the young ladies spoke about how yes, there was talk about the WPD, there was talk about the families who suffered from the loss of a son, and things like that. But nobody came and talked with the residents where this stuff happened in their backyard, right? That’s potent, that’s powerful. And nobody reached out to those residents.[…] It was good to hear those dynamics. So that’s what I mean in bringing a different perspective to the table. Because I didn’t think about that. Those individuals, those residents dealt with some trauma—in a different kind of way—but it was still yet traumatizing in some ways.”

In the end, he sees a lot to like in Wauwatosa, but he wants to make it better:

Like I said, I think that the narrative of Tosa, apart from the politics, is fine. It’s great. It’s on the move. Like, this area here [motioning outside the window of the Corner Bakery to the other stores and restaurants in the Mayfair Collective] around us, I’ve seen the plan for it to expand and bring housing, and all those things. So there are different projects to help extend, or help put Tosa on the radar. And that’s what I want to happen.

IV.

The past and present wilt—I have fill'd them, emptied them.
And proceed to fill my next fold of the future.

Listener up there! what have you to confide to me?
Look in my face while I snuff the sidle of evening,
(Talk honestly, no one else hears you, and I stay only a minute longer.)

Do I contradict myself?
Very well then I contradict myself,
(I am large, I contain multitudes.)

― Walt Whitman, Song of Myself

John Larry mentions the word optics or narrative almost two dozen times during our conversation. It comes up when he describes the optics surrounding his videotaped interaction with Lt. Farina. It comes up in his assessment of the Wauwatosa Police Department as he notes the optics of continuing to see mostly black people pulled over on the road. When he talks about narratives, it is because he is interested in reshaping one that he feels people are dissuaded or frightened by: “That’s why I think the narrative of Tosa needs to be reshaped. I’ve got friends in Brookfield who don’t want to come Tosa,” he says, “Am I going to be pulled over? Am I going to be the next Alvin Cole, Anderson Jr., you know what I mean? They are literally afraid of coming.”

But I think it is important to distinguish between reality and one’s perceptions of that reality, to distinguish between acting on the world itself and acting on people’s model of the world. And I think it’s important that when we talk about doing things, that we aim to do things that directly affect the underlying reality rather than do things that simply aim to manipulate people’s perception of it. The former has more fidelity to truth while the latter, though it can produce beneficial effects—the term noble lie exists for a reason—can also corrupt public discourse and reduce our faith in institutions.

I think John Larry does, in some ways, recognize this. He recognizes that an angry email or a two minute video of him yelling at a police officer during a protest does not reflect the reality of who he is or the relationship with the police officer he happens to be yelling at. It does, however, affect the public’s perception of him.

He recognizes that Wauwatosa’s leadership can say one thing but do another, that they say what “sounds good, and maybe in intent they mean well, but at the end of the day, it’s the same old, same old.” And he describes the fact that Rob Gustafson was chosen as an interim alder after alder Heather Kuhl resigned rather than Sean Lowe, a black resident and current candidate for district 5, as a missed “opportunity for Tosa to embrace change.”

The world we perceive is frequently shorn of context. The state of modern technology, in some sense, contributes to this. Everyone has a video camera. Anyone can be captured at their worst. And unfortunately, no technology yet exists that quite reveals the multitudes within an individual, and no camera has been developed that captures the human heart.

In such an environment, making actual changes to object-level reality is difficult. In a world where everyone has a camera, it is easier for people to look at a scene or an outcome than to understand the processes or people that created it. Even if individuals like John Larry and Mayor McBride do not set out to prioritize appearing to do something over actually doing something, they too are often captive to a complex array of incentives that encourage such priorities. I fear that worrying too much about optics and narrative distracts from the reality we should actually care about and leads us to do things because they look good rather than because they are good. Ideally we can do both, but fixating excessively on the latter can lead us to forget the former. At its worst, we stop worrying about the underlying reality at all as we focus entirely on the manipulation of public opinion. And not only do we lose our ability to do actually-good-things, but we lose the trust of the public we hope to persuade.

I think it is important not just to worry about the optics of black people being pulled over by the police at higher rates than whites but to actually demonstrate that such a thing is occurring and to understand why it occurs. It is important to look at the process by which a white man rather than a black man was chosen as interim alder rather than the outcome alone. Just as one might see a video of John Larry threatening to “beat the shit” out of a cop and assume that the man is volatile and perhaps anti-social, I think one should try to understand whether such assumptions actually hold.

Therefore, my conversation with John Larry.

1. From Wikipedia: “On the evening of February 2, 2020, Alvin Cole, a 17-year-old black male, was shot by a Wauwatosa, Wisconsin black male police officer Joseph Mensah, outside Mayfair Mall in Wauwatosa. The shooting occurred after Cole refused a command from the police to drop the stolen gun he was holding and Cole fired a bullet as he tried to flee.[1] Two shots were fired when Cole was on his hands and knees, and the remaining three shots were fired by Mensah while Cole was face down on the ground. Mensah was the only officer among the five other officers at the scene who fired his weapon.”

2. Official website. Other coverage by Milwaukee Magazine, Wisconsin Right Now