MOVE

First of all, MOVE is not an acronym. If I'm not mistaken, the full name is On the MOVE.

Today is May 13. And MOVE, a radical, urban, back-to-nature group -- yes, I realize that urban and back-to-nature in this case is an oxymoron -- had its last major confrontation with Philadelphia police 25 years ago on May 13, 1985.

City authorities wanted to evict MOVE members from their West Philly home. After a day-long confrontation (with authorities using bullets and full-pressure water hoses), police dropped a satchel of explosives -- read: bomb -- on the roof of the MOVE house in a misguided attempt to knock a fortified bunker off the top of the building. The attempt failed.

The bunker and the roof caught fire. The fire department did not immediately turn on water hoses once the blaze became apparent and, ultimately, the burning bunker collapsed into the second story of the structure instead of falling off of the house and into the street, as officials had hoped.

The resulting fire eventually went to five or six alarms, destroyed 61 houses, left 250 people homeless and cost 11 people, including five children, their lives. All of the dead were from the MOVE house.

Though the neighborhood was rebuilt, it was shoddy and now, 25 years later, the city owns 37 of the rebuilt houses and apparently has left them abandoned.

I mention this because the MOVE confrontation plays a minor, yet crucial role in my current novel, AN UNTIDY AFFAIR. Affair is a murder mystery and isn't in the least bit a political novel. But when I decided to have it set in Philadelphia, I wanted to use a major event as a backdrop for the developing murder story. And there is no event in Philly's recent history -- say, the last 50 years -- that is bigger than the 1985 MOVE confrontation.

In my novel, there is another body found in the debris left by the bombing and fire, though it is not in the MOVE house. It is in a house further down the block. Figuring out who it is and why they were killed is the mystery in the book.

I don't mind using that sad day as a prop in my story. It's attention-getting. And it is the biggest story I have ever covered.

But as I reflect on that day and the days that immediately followed, I remember working the story. I remember standing with other reporters watching the entire neighborhood burn to the ground. I remember a day or so later standing with a resident in front of the remains of her property. The only thing that was vaguely recognizable was the burnt frame of a window air-conditioner. Everything else she had was gone. And I remember standing on some one's porch looking down the block of burned down houses as the coroner removed the first of the 11 dead bodies. I wasn't suppose to be on the porch -- officials restricted the media's access -- but a kindly elderly woman let me into her home and I was the first journalist in the world to report that they had dead bodies and were moving them.

I hoped then that my reporting and writing accurately described the events without bias. And as an author, I hope my readers one day get a sense of the misery of that day and the following days. I made one of the characters in my book a resident whose house was destroyed. It was a time of incredible sadness but I still had a job to do and I think I did it well, remaining fair and balanced. I was respectful of the victims and didn't pull any punches for those responsible, though several of the city officials I respected and one or two I really liked.

Anyway, those are my thought for the day, in addition to the fact that I got a rejection e-mail today from one of my B-list agents. No big deal. I sent her a quick thank you e-mail and moved on.

Thanks for reading today and keep on the MOVE.