Mayor-for-Life Marion Barry died 10 years ago.
Barry was the butt of a lot of jokes in my community. As a kid growing up in the D.C. area in the ’90s, I was ignorant. I knew nothing about Barry’s prominence as a civil rights activist, his role in helping create the Black middle class, or the targeted attempts to take him down.
As I grew into my 30s, I came to see the other side of Barry. I encountered him throughout the city through my work as a video professional, particularly in Anacostia. It was clear he was well-loved—not universally perhaps, but deeply. He had earned reverence and appreciation among those he helped.
In 1960, the District became the first major American city to have a majority Black population, peaking in 1970 at 71 percent. As of last year, that population had shrunk to less than 45 percent. To understand D.C.—what it once was, and what it has now become—you must understand Barry.
After his death on Nov. 23, 2014, Barry’s body was carried by horse-drawn carriage from the Wilson Building through the streets of Anacostia so he could say goodbye to his people one last time.
I knew that event was going to be something special. So I grabbed my camera, jumped on a bike, and set out to photograph and interview the people along the procession. Almost every person I spoke with had a personal story about how Barry had helped them in a profound way—a housing program he initiated that allowed them to buy their first home, an employment program he created that helped folks get jobs that blossomed into careers, a scholarship that made tuition affordable, and a loan program he started that allowed businesses to succeed.
Barry was no saint. Few of us are. But he helped many people and he made a profound impact on the District. Barry deserves to be recognized for the good he brought to his people. His presence is sorely lacking in today’s Washington and we are poorer for it.
These previously unpublished photos are from my ride alongside Barry’s funeral procession. Some of the names of the people in the photos have been lost to time, but their stories live on as part of Barry’s legacy.
A man came to pay his respects at Barry’s funeral procession from the Wilson Building through Anacostia. Credit: Andre Dahlman
“I came to pay my respects,” the man in the hat told me. “The mayor gave me my first job 30 years ago. I started out as a janitor in the local schools and am still working today. He gave me the confidence to hold on to a job and start a career and it wasn’t easy because I am handicapped. Barry changed my life.”
Barry’s body is carried out of the Wilson Building, Dec. 5, 2014. Credit: Andre Dahlman
A man and his son trying to catch a glimpse of Barry’s casket as it leaves the John A. Wilson Building Credit: Andre Dahlman
Juliette Bethea holds a rose that fell off Barry’s casket. Credit: Andre Dahlman
“I came here in 1967 and Marion Barry’s activism and contributions were always present since I’ve arrived,” Juliette Bethea said. “And not just in the city. Many people of wealth in Prince George’s County benefited from Marion Barry’s programs and contracts. Marion Barry opened capital to Black people in particular and other people of color. Marion Barry opened that to everyone, he diversified access to capital. Whether as an activist or going into the school board … we’ve achieved so much during that period. There’s not much in D.C. life that hasn’t involved him.”
Cora Masters Barry is escorted down the steps of the Wilson Building by then-Mayor Vince Gray and Council Chair Phil Mendelson.
A woman came to the John A. Wilson Building to show her support for Barry. Credit: Andre Dahlman
Cora Masters Barry, the Mayor-for-Life’s widow, rides in the procession. Credit: Andre Dahlman
A woman came to the John A. Wilson Building to pay her respects to Barry, who helped her get a job as a nurse. Credit: Andre Dahlman
“I am a nurse because of Marion Barry,” the woman said. “Barry sponsored a nursing program in Takoma Park at the Columbia Union College for the people of the have-nots. I was a have-not at the time, but now I have a good life and I thank Marion Barry for that.”
Barry’s casket pulled through the streets of Anacostia. Credit: Andre Dahlman
Antonio Walker walks besides Barry’s casket. Credit: Andre Dahlman
A woman gives Barry a final salute. Credit: Andre Dahlman
Two women show their love for Barry along the funeral procession route. Credit: Andre Dahlman
“We’re not from D.C.,” one of the women said. “I came here in 1970 and I’m telling you this really is not the real world because a lot of these places that you go to now, you would not have these opportunities that you have had in D.C. He made it possible for us. Its true. I tell people, I came from Kentucky and the things that people have the opportunity to do, right now you could not do that in Kentucky.”
Credit: Andre Dahlman
“I wanted to come out here mainly because I wouldn’t have had a home without Marion Barry—he’s the one who set the foundation for the home that I live in in right now,” the woman said. “In 1995 he initiated an affordable housing program—they called it the HPAP program—132 homes were made available at a discount you could afford. Barry felt people should own their homes instead of renting apartments, and he fixed it so it would be affordable. I got a three-bedroom, living room, dinning room, kitchen and all it cost me was $109,000.”
Children line up to see Barry’s casket on Southern Avenue SE. Credit: Andre Dahlman
Christopher Barry, the mayor-for-life’s late son, is greeted by children lining the processional route along Southern Avenue SE. Later in the day, Christopher asked me for my card so he could get a copy of the photo. Credit: Andre Dahlman
Credit: Andre Dahlman
“Marion Barry got me my first job as part of the summer youth program. I was in a D.C. government job and I still work there today. The program taught me responsibility—it opened a door for me. People will miss Barry’s caring. He cared for the people of Ward 8 and overall D.C. period.”
Credit: Andre Dahlman
“Marion Barry’s passion was for the elderly and the young. My son went to Ballou [High School] and Barry would go over there and encourage the young people. He would give them a dream to shoot for. And Barry was passionate about keeping the youth off the streets and giving them the tools to create a career. The [Summer Youth Employment Program] was like bricks, giving young people the chance to build themselves up. And the District benefited from that because it helped our youth become productive adults who are able to hold down jobs.”
Credit: Andre Dahlman
“Marion Barry was a good man because he had remodeled all the schools around 4th Street. He helped remodel Ballou. He helped remodel Simon and he gave Hart new windows. When we were in school, we let up balloons for him just to thank him for everything that he done around here that was nice. I feel very bad that he passed away because he won’t be able to make any more schools.”
A group of woman hold signs for Barry along the procession route. Credit: Andre Dahlman
Credit: Andre Dahlman
“Marion Barry did a lot for the city. He had his ups and downs but he did a lot. People are going to rag on him—like they always do—but the people that live here know that he did a lot for us.”
A brass band followed behind Barry’s casket. Credit: Andre Dahlman
Credit: Andre Dahlman
“Marion Barry was a neighborhood man. He socialized. He came to this liquor store right here. No one else will understand us like him because he walked in our shoes. These newcomers out here don’t even want to come out of the office. Marion Barry walked the neighborhood. He’d shake your hand. If you didn’t have any money, he would go into his pocket and give you a dime.”
Credit: Andre Dahlman
“He helped us. Help build up your character. Dust yourself off. Take pride in yourself. Marion Barry came into your house and ate with you. I ate dinner in his home with his first wife once. Ain’t no one else going to be like him.”
Carol Johnson, along the route of Barry’s funeral procession in December 2014. Credit: Andre Dahlman
“Barry is the only one in Ward 8 that is interacting with Ward 8,” Carol Johnson said. “He comes to this park right here and plays horseshoes. We’ve been knowing him all our lives.”
Credit: Andre Dahlman
“Marion Barry helped me through a lot of situations. He didn’t force us to do anything, but he made it easier for us Blacks to get jobs if you wanted one. Ain’t no one else going to be like him. It’s going to be rough without him.”