Lunch With Wendell

Six months before architect and political powerbroker Wendell Harp died at the age of 64 surrounded by his family in his home, he met a reporter for lunch by the front door at Pacifico restaurant on College Street. He wanted to sit upstairs, he said. Away from the first-floor bar.

“I don’t like,” he said, ​“how people behave at bars.”

Wendell Harp (pictured), who passed away Friday night, preferred quiet back rooms. He didn’t like commotion.

He also didn’t often meet reporters for lunch. In fact, it’s unclear whether he ever talked to a reporter, at least for a story.

Reporters often wanted to talk to Wendell Harp. For decades he was one of New Haven’s most prominent architects. He was also the city’s leading black political strategist and campaign fund-raiser — always behind the scenes.

If it was between election seasons and Harp wasn’t supporting a challenge to City Hall, you might see him at the Graduate Club with, say, former State Treasurer Hank Parker and Mayor John DeStefano, discussing government appointments.

Elected officials for years would gather at Harp’s Dwight Street office for strategy sessions of the ​“Five O’Clock Club.” They would examine recent government decisions and upcoming political campaigns. They would figure out how best to advance African-American interests.

At election season you might find Harp among the crowd at the perennial campaign headquarters at his commercial building on Whalley Avenue. Some years the headquarters would serve as the focal point for people trying to elect, say, an African-American candidate for mayor, or a slate of aldermen, or a state senator, including, in later years, Harp’s wife, Toni Harp. Other years it would serve as get-out-the-vote central for a statewide candidate, such as Lowell Weicker in the 1990 gubernatorial election.

Occasionally you would see Wendell Harp himself quoted. That’s because he was making a rare public speech — for instance, when he spoke at this hearing about the lack of African-Americans selected for development work by the Connecticut Housing Finance Administration. Harp got loans from CHFA but, he noted, other architects and builders of color almost never did. Click the play arrow at left to hear some of his remarks that day.

But for the most part Harp let others do the public speaking. He let it be known that he thought that reporters treated him unfairly. He let me know that, for instance, after I wrote a bunch of articles about controversies in which he’d been involved, at times treating him quite harshly in print. He would stare past me when I tried to shake his hand. He would not take phone calls for comment; he once sent a letter back unopened.

Over the years, I spoke to lots of other people about Wendell Harp. Because he was one of the most interesting and influential people in town. He thought big: In his unconventional designs that fascinated me for their ambition and originality. (Example: Career High School.) In his plans to build or manage low-income housing or renovate old buildings into offices. A graduate of Howard University and then Yale’s city planning and architecture master’s programs, Harp clearly had a lot to say.

The first time I got to hear him say it out loud was in 1997. A white East Haven cop had chased a black New Haven man named Malik Jones across the town border and shot him dead. The community was outraged, unsure what to do. Black activists gathered at St. Luke’s Church for the first public convening after the shooting.

People spoke emotionally about similar encounters with the East Haven police. Voices were raised, tears shed, calls to action issued.

Harp stepped forward late in the meeting. The room hushed. What struck me first: How quiet a voice he had. What struck me next: What he said. He spoke of growing up the son of a cop. He spoke of the pain people were feeling about racial injustice, but also — this was his main point, if I remember correctly — the importance of obeying the police.

I wouldn’t have predicted that comment. All I had heard until then about Harp was his role in pursuing building projects and supporting candidates in sometimes racially-charged environments. I left wondering what other surprising thoughts the man was thinking.

It would take another 14 years to find out, when, this June, he called me and invited me to lunch at Pacifico.

Life Lessons

I had no idea that Harp was battling colon cancer at the time. Few people did. Why broadcast it? He still had a lot of work to do in New Haven.

For instance, he was the driving force behind the candidacy of another African-American mayoral candidate, Clifton Graves. But Harp had no intention of talking to me about the Graves campaign at that Friday afternoon lunch. He had no intention of being a ​“source” or planting or influencing new stories.

He wanted to have a personal talk. He said he appreciated the spirit in which I had recently tried to convince him to sit down when bumping into him. He wanted to know my story, and he wanted to tell me his.

He spoke for hours, calmly, and intensely. He told of growing up in a working-class home in Chicago. His mother worked at the post office, then became a teacher. His dad was a Chicago cop, strict and loving. His mother was loving, too. She told him he could be whatever he wanted to be if he worked hard enough. He never forgot her words. He believed her.

The Chicago of Wendell Harp’s childhood was a racially segregated city. Violently so, at times, as Harp would find out when he got accepted to a prestigious high school across town called Tilden Tech. One day he was walking home, through a neighborhood where African-Americans weren’t supposed to walk. A group of young men jumped him. They beat him badly. Harp was terrified. Finally a cab driver passed by and rescued him. He drove Harp home for free.

In the retelling, Harp focused on the race of the driver. The driver was white. Harp never forgot that, he said.

In the retelling, Harp revealed no anger about the race of his attackers. He said that’s how it was in Chicago — each group of people acted that way on their own turf. Lesson learned.

He decided not to tell his parents what happened, he said. He didn’t want to risk the chance to continue attending Tilden Tech. He stuck it out, graduated, went on to academic success, earning honors in graduate school at Yale. In 1973 he became the nation’s youngest registered architect. He settled in New Haven, put out a shingle.

At the Pacifico lunch, he related one of his early professional lessons. He competed for a major airport-related development job in Boston. He was up against large, established firms. His proposal came out on top in the competition’s first round. Then he went to meet with officials for follow-up interviews. He was asked if he would be open to sharing the contract with a lower-scoring firm — a white firm with local connections. Harp said no. He wanted the whole contract. He ended up getting none of it. From that time on, he earned another, unofficial degree: in how to navigate political corridors as well as architectural corridors to get a seat at the table.

Harp and I spoke about our joy in raising children to adulthood (his kids followed his and Toni Harp’s footsteps to professional success) and the prominent role of religion in our daily lives. He mentioned the word ​“God” more times than I think I’ve ever heard it uttered in two hours. He said God told him to have lunch with me.

I also learned that Harp remained a non-stop worker, dreaming and developing architectural designs late into the night. He was a lifelong pianist; at Howard, he befriended and jammed with Donnie Hathaway.

Harp paid for the lunch. Since this wasn’t an interview, it seemed OK to accept. (Reporters aren’t allowed to let interview subjects pay for meals.) Harp was clear he had no intention of answering questions for articles at any point. He made his one joke of the afternoon: ​“You were always good at writing, ​‘Harp could not be reached for comment.’”

After that lunch, I noticed that Harp became slightly more visible than he had been during previous campaign seasons. He spoke at public events involving the Graves campaign. He convened a session on urban violence at campaign headquarters, invited the media, and spent hours sharing ideas with people about how to find solutions. Another time, he drilled campaign workers in how to deal with skeptical voters they encounter when going door to door to collect signatures on ballot petitions; click on the play arrow to watch how well he played the role. (He appears about 25 seconds in.)

This Friday night, with his loved ones by his bedside, Harp breathed his last breath.

It was an honor to gain a glimpse into Wendell Harp’s mind and soul. As this fall’s campaign wore on, I even had the benefit of gleaning some of his political insights, including his assertion that contrary to popular notions, he knew that Americans of all races are perfectly happy to vote for black candidates if given a positive reason to do so. That was all, of course, off the record.

* * * *

Following is the obituary sent to the press, including information on a Friday funeral service:

OBITUARY
WENDELL CARL HARP (10/23/47 – 12/02/11)

Wendell Carl Harp, local architect, developer and civic leader, was called home on Friday, December 2, 2011. Wendell was the son of the late Willie and Edna Harp, of Chicago Il.

Wendell was raised in Chicago, where he attended Chicago public schools, before attending Howard University (B.A. Architecture ​‘69) and then Yale University (M. City Planning ​’70 and M. Architecture ​’71). Following graduation from Yale University, Wendell settled in New Haven CT, and was a founding member of the Black Workshop, Inc., an urban architectural and design firm. Shortly thereafter, he married Ms. Toni Nathaniel, a fellow graduate of Yale University (M. Environmental Design ​’76). From the marriage of Wendell and Toni three children were born: Djana, Jamil and Wendell Matthew.

In 1973, Wendell successfully completed the qualifications to become a registered member of the American Institute of Architects and was noted as the youngest registered architect in the nation. Following his professional accomplishments at the Black Workshop, Wendell was a co-founding partner of Architects Environmental Collaborative International P.C., a design and engineering firm engaged in a broad spectrum of architectural work including commercial, public infrastructure and multi-family residential projects throughout the northeastern region.

Wendell also founded Renaissance Management Company, his wholly owned real estate management firm which services multifamily residential apartments in the greater New Haven area, and a host of related real estate development ventures for projects throughout Connecticut.

Throughout his many business and professional ventures, Wendell remained devoutly religious, being a patron and influential member of the New Haven Church of Christ.

Wendell’s noted civic involvements included active participation in state and local political endeavors, and included many successes in aiding the political careers of many of our best-known elected officials. On a lesser-known level, Wendell found great pride in his role as a mentor to young, disadvantaged males and as a financial benefactor to those less fortunate than he.

On a personal level, Wendell’s greatest source of joy came from being a father and staunch family man, a loving brother and respected uncle. He is survived by his loving wife, Sen. Toni N. Harp, and children Djana Harp M.D., Jamil Harp M.D., and Wendell Matthew Harp, Esq. He is also survived and remembered by siblings Jerone Harp and Yvonne Harp Miller of Chicago IL; Murial Harp Moore of Rocklin CA; Willie Harp III of NYC; Pauline Thomas of Detroit MI; and Milton L. Jackson, Reynaud L. Harp and Cynthia Beaver of New Haven CT. Wendell’s memory will also be cherished by a host of loving nieces, nephews and cousins.

Public viewing and wake will take place on Thursday, December 8, 2011, at the New Haven Church of Christ, 16 Gem Street, New Haven CT, from 3:30 PM until 6:30 PM. Funeral service will be held Friday, December 9, 2011 at Battell Chapel, Yale University, Corner of College and Elm Streets, New Haven CT, commencing at 10:00 AM, with internment at Beaverdale Cemetary immediately following.

In recognition of the central role that education played in Wendell’s life, the family asks that, in lieu of flowers, donations be made to the following educational institutions:

New Haven Scholarship Fund
c/o Mr. Peter Stolzman
20 Peddlars Drive
Branford CT 06405

Howard University
Development and Alumni Relations
2225 Georgia Avenue, NW, Suite 616
Washington DC 20059

Donations can be made by Check or money order, with appropriate notation “…in Memory of Wendell Harp.”

Wendell C. Harp (10/23/47 — 12/02/11)