Man Walks Across LI For Social Justice: 'It Taught Me Humility'

MONTAUK, NY — A Bay Shore man who walked from New York City to Montauk to silently protest police brutality and advocate for social justice completed his journey with a heart full of gratitude and a wave of new awareness in his wake.

Leon Goodman, 69, wrapped up his walk — which began at the 59th Street Bridge in Manhattan and included all of Long Island — on Saturday, as a cheering crowd met him at the Montauk Lighthouse.

Reflecting on his journey, Goodman said reaching Montauk was a huge accomplishment. "Particularly when I realized the 118 miles I had previously calculated was actually 137," he laughed.

The extra miles were added because Goodman couldn't walk along Sunrise Highway.

"The last half mile was totally exhilarating," he said. "I had about 13 people walking with me, and by the time I got to the the Montauk Lighthouse, word had spread about what I had done and there were people who met me at the entrance applauding and saying 'Thank you for doing this,'" he said.

Goodman embarked upon his life-altering journey to send a message about police shootings, and to express his despair "over the senseless loss of lives mourned by the Black community at the hands of law enforcement."

The walk began on October 1, with Goodman covering about 10 to 15 miles per day. Each day, he began at the Long Island Rail Road, taking the train to the stop where he ended the night before, and walking about 10 or more miles to his next stop, before heading back on the train.

Goodman worked for the MTA in New York City for decades; he grew up in segregated Virginia during the 1950s "when beatings, and lynchings were what Black people could expect if they dared to challenge the Jim Crow laws. Black people experienced discrimination at their jobs or when they tried to buy a house or get an education," he said. "Even though all Americans had gained the right to vote, many southern states made it difficult for Black citizens. They often required prospective voters of color to take literacy tests that were confusing, misleading and nearly impossible to pass."

And now, he said, Black people must come together to speak out against police brutality. His walk, he said, is "not anti-police," but instead, a message that acts of brutality cannot be ignored and police officers who commit them must face consequences.

"Police killings have become a pandemic of sorts and the senseless and mindless brutality towards our people has got to end," he said.

Along the way, Goodman said he met some "really good people, and some negative people, too —but as long as I was able to converse with them, I was fine with it," he said.

Dialogue, he has maintained, is critical toward creating change."All along, I've been saying,'Are you listening?' 'Can you hear us?' That was my approach."

There were moments that hurt, he said: During his last half mile, a couple he was walking with asked a business owner if they could use the Porta Potty. As he was leaving, Goodman began to tell the owner a joke about his walk. "She told me, 'Frankly, I'm not interested in what you have to say. I let you use the Porta Potty. I don't want to hear a story. Get off of my property.'"

Goodman paused. "That hurt me."

But the slights were healed, he said, by the outpouring of support he received from so many — some, strangers who ended up friends.

"That incident was counterbalanced by all of the people at the Montauk Lighthouse who welcomed me so warmly," he said. "I met so many, many positive people along the way."

There were others, he said, who didn't agree with his message, including a young man on a bicycle. Goodman tried to explain about the anguish of Tamir Rice, a 12-year old Black boy killed in Cleveland, Ohio, by a white police officer; Rice had a toy gun, Goodman said. He tried to tell the story about athlete reportedly shot and killed in Texas after a trying to help in a domestic dispute, Goodman said.

"This man went off on his bicycle and said, 'He probably deserved it,'" Goodman said. "It's that mindset that my walk was trying to change."

Others, though, heard about Goodman on social media and went to find him. One man and his fiance met up with him in Hampton Bays. "She said to him, 'Let's do this. Let's be a part of this.' They met me at the Hampton Bays train station and walked with me past the Shinnecock Canal," he said. "There was so much positive," he said.

Even Southampton Town Supervisor Jay Scheiderman met with him and walked; Goodman said he shared his perspective as a Black man. He told Schneiderman about being racially profiled.

That incident, he said, took place one night when he was leaving the LIRR with 10 to 12 other commuters and crossed the street to the overflow lot. He was the only Black man — and the only person stopped by an officer while leaving the lot.

When Goodman asked the officer why he didn't pull over the others, he was told: "Shut your god---- mouth, stop being a smart-a--; give me your god------ license and registration.' I will never forget it. When he found I had no violations, he made me sit there for 45 minutes as punishment."

He and Schneiderman also discussed "the talk" that young Black men get from their parents, about what to do if they are stopped by police.

"The point is, there are some norms that we have gotten used to, from the African-American perspective," Goodman said. "I was very impressed that he found the time to meet with me and talk."

There were moments of sheer exhaustion, Goodman said. One came early one. "It really hit me in the beginning," after the Queenboro Bridge, he said. "A little self-doubt came in as I looked at the long road ahead. I had a good angel on my right shoulder saying, 'You can do this.' And I had the bad angel on my left shoulder saying, 'You're 69 years old. Are you out of your mind?'"

But he endured, one step a time, a man on a silent journey for change.

Another such moment hit in Montauk, when he was faced with a "huge, huge hill" after walking for almost 10 miles in the rain. Soaked in his rain gear, he said: "I have to be honest, I had to push myself to climb that hill. That's when the doubt did come in. But I just knew at that point, I couldn't stop."

At moments like those, he was buoyed by those who stepped up to walk with him for the last miles, lifting him with their spirit and belief in his mission.

The walk now behind him, Goodman said he is proud that now he can share the experience with his children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren — and children he has not even yet met.

"It was a journey," he said. "It taught me humility."

The many miles he traversed brought an awareness and appreciation of the world that one can't grasp while driving in a car, he said. "The reason I was walking was I wanted people to be aware of Breonna Taylor and George Floyd from a human perspective, not a hashtag."

One moment that will say with him forever took place when he met elders from the Shinnecock Nation, Goodman said.

"They had a sign that said, 'Keep going, Leon Goodman,'" he said. "The elder asked how I had decided to do this. I said, 'I don't know, I just knew that I needed to do something but I didn't know what it was.' He said, 'It's ancestral. When your ancestors are talking to you, you have to listen. Your ancestors were talking to you and telling you, 'You have to do this,'" Goodman said.

Also, the Shinnecock elder told him that their ancestors used to walk from New York City to Montauk, too. "I was told, 'Without you realizing what you were doing, you have just retraced their steps,'" he said.

While there have been Trump parades and rallies recently, Goodman said: "I just walked 137 miles to the Montauk Lighthouse." On his way back, he saw the Trump parade making its way to Montauk. "They were all in their big, powerful loud trucks with noise and felt so accomplished. But I feel my accomplishment was greater — because I walked it. Silently. My grandmother and mother used to say, 'Silence is deafening.'"

Another moment that stood out was when a man passed him in a pickup. When he saw the truck again in a few minutes, Goodman said his initial reaction was trepidation. But the white man who approached him said he had read his story and wanted to thank him for what he was doing. The man, he said, collected rocks, and gave Goodman a rock he had had since he was a child. "He told me, "I want you to have this. It's brought me luck all my life and it will bring you luck, too.'"

Goodman said he walked so many miles for those who those can no longer walk to defend themselves.

"I am silently protesting and walking for Eric Garner, Michael Brown, Tamir Rice, Walter Scott, Alton Sterling, Trayvon Martin, Philando Castile, Stephon Clark, Sandra Bland, Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, and George Floyd, amongst others," he said as he set out. "Are you listening? Do you hear us?"

There was one thing he wanted to make clear, he said: "This was not a silent protest march against police. This was a silent march against acts of police brutality. Being a policeman in a police department should not be all-encompassing. Police departments have to be responsible for policing their own. Just because they are police does not mean they shouldn't be punished or held accountable. That's part of my message to people."

Along the way, Goodman met so many who renewed his mission and kept him going, when the miles seemed long: One woman he met told Goodman words that resonate still: "She said, 'Light one candle at a time.' It was so profound. That's what I'm trying to do."