Nearly three hours of heated debate has passed inside the Council Chamber, when Babatunde Folayemi clicks on his microphone.
Folayemi looks out at the crowd of working-class mothers, fathers, children and activists, many of whom are carrying signs.
The crowd wants the Santa Barbara City Council to adopt a living wage ordinance. With a gentle boom in his voice, and a look of sincerity in his eyes, Folayemi takes a breath and speaks to the nearly 200 people in the crowd.
Santa Barbara, he says, needs to send a responsible, compassionate message to the rest of the country.
“Here, human life and human equity is our number one priority,” Folayemi says. “Without that, very little else matters.”
The crowd applauds. Many rise to their feet.
Folayemi was less than three months into his term on the Santa Barbara City Council when he made those comments in 2002.
It was his first standing ovation as a City Councilman, sort of his breakthrough moment, at a time when he was confident, still basking in the glow of his stunning election to the City Council.
His two years on the panel were but a footnote to his decades of activism all over the world, yet they were also something of a culmination, and validation of his works.
The Harlem-born activist, who became the leader of Santa Barbara’s Latino community, shocked the political establishment to become the first black man to win a seat on the Santa Barbara City Council. In that moment, after years of fighting for recognition, he finally found acceptance.
Folayemi died on Wednesday, March 28, at his home, of an apparent heart attack. He was 71.
“Santa Barbara just lost a great leader and a friend and we are going to grieve his loss, but we are also going to live out his legacy,” said Councilman Grant House. “I felt his passion for social justice and I felt it deep. When I heard him speak I was inspired to action.”
Artist turned Activist
He was born Tony Northern, in Harlem, in 1941. Long before he was an activist, Folayemi first was an artist. He sculpted and painted. Many of his images depicted the plight of urban black youth, black Jesus and other spiritual images. He spent decades working in New York and in Africa, where he was inspired to change his name to “Babatunde,” which means “father has returned.”
In Africa he worked for the Organization of African Unity, helping countries with their liberation efforts. He move from Africa to Los Angeles, and started a fashion company called “The Bronze Age,” and also began to work with gangs. In the early 1980s he moved to Los Angeles.
Folayemi said he sat on the Watts Gang Task Force, and at one point served as a mediator between the Crips and Bloods, the notorious Los Angeles gangs. It was in Africa and in Los Angeles where Folayemi began to master his ability to be a peacemaker and find common ground among groups that disagreed, even hated one another.
He later moved to Santa Barbara and founded the Pro-Youth Coalition, a group aimed at stopping gang violence.
He became the nonprofit organization’s executive director and started to emerge as Santa Barbara’s rising star in activist circles.
His rapid rise turned heads. Folayemi’s home on the Riviera recalls much of his history.
Plaques, awards and newspaper articles highlighting his achievements among the youth decorate the walls. One of his proudest honors was from the Santa Barbara Independent, which declared him a “Local Hero” and called him Santa Barbara’s “Gang Czar” on the cover. He hung the honors in picture frames on his walls.
His activism earned him resolutions from former state Assemblymember Hannah Beth-Jackson. Former Congressman Walter Capps installed Folayemi’s name in the congressional record for his work among the city’s youth.
Folayemi said that honor was his highest achievement. He also kept a coffee table book called “Paradise by the Pacific,” which featured a chapter on Folayemi titled “A Friend to the Kids.”
The People’s Champion
Folayemi was the kind of guy who you couldn’t avoid. Even those who he rubbed the wrong way couldn’t keep from giving him a hug or handshake.
Folayemi, full of enthusiasm and sunny optimism, made people pay attention to him.
On the streets, whether on the Eastside or Westside, Folayemi was welcome. In a city that is about 40 percent Latino, Folayemi somehow arose to become the voice of its people.
To some kids, he served as de facto father, attending court hearings with troubled youth. He encouraged young men with children to be responsible fathers even if they weren’t married. And he urged young people to go to, and stay, in school.
While his critics said he was more about charm and style than substance, Folayemi maintained that the only way to rise above hate was to develop personal relationships with people.
“He was an extraordinary man,” said First District County Supervisor Salud Carbajal.
“Babatunde was consistently engaged in advocating for social justice especially as it relates to issues of our youth. He was consistent. He always worked really hard to bring attention to the challenges our youth, particularly our lower income youth, are facing.”
Carbajal said Folayemi was gifted at speaking on behalf of people who didn’t have their own voice within the power structure of local government.
“What Babatunde did was magnify how it is often the institutions that are failing our children,” Carbajal said. “It’s not just the children failing themselves. He made government institutions look to themselves and see that they are part of the solution.”
As an activist, Folayemi worked to reduce the number of gang members in the community. One of his masterstrokes was the creation of a teen center – a place for teens from all parts of the community to come together.
“Babatunde was always so soft spoken,” Carbajal said. “He never got agitated. I never saw him get angry. He always worked in what I consider a very peaceful, non-violent way, in the same ethos of someone like Martin Luther King, Jr. His tools of change were communication. That was his hallmark. He could address various people from different walks of life on sensitive issues and get people to effectively communicate.”
City Council
In 2001, Folayemi decided to take the plunge from activist to elected official. His interest surprised many at City Hall. Although he was a proven leader in activist circles, most political observers doubted that his popularity on the streets would carry over to the ballot box. But Folayemi was not concerned about what the power brokers believed.
He felt that his name in activist circles was enough to make him a contender.
He could win, he believed, if he knocked on enough doors and organized his grassroots network of supporters to spread the word about his campaign. And in politics, timing is everything. His chances were bolstered by two strong progressives who were also running, Iya Falcone and Roger Horton.
Falcone, Horton and Folayemi became an unofficial liberal ticket in that election.
On election night, he shocked the political establishment. He placed fourth in a race for three open seats – but won a spot on the council when Marty Blum was elected mayor.
Her seat opened up, and Folayemi took the fourth slot, behind Falcone, Horton and Dr. Dan Secord.
The man who couldn’t walk down the street without greeting a friend with a hug was now a sudden star in political circles.
Once elected, he didn’t change hisfiery brand of activism. He attempted to interject it into City Hall.
He pushed for the city to pay employees and contractors higher wages, called for more spending on affordable housing, and urged the city to take a more tolerant stance toward the homeless and people who live in their RVs. Former Mayor Blum said she enjoyed working with Folayemi both inside and outside of City Hall.
Folayemi, she said, would stand side-by-side with her at anti-war rallies and he frequently showed up at the Veterans for Peace displays on the beach. Inside the Council Chamber, Blum said he again was a man of great character.
“I always knew where he was coming from and I always knew I could count on him,” Blum said. “He was always very even.”
She said that when he spoke for his causes, he knew that speaking the loudest and the longest wasn’t always the best way be effective.
“I thought Babatunde was a very gifted speaker,” Blum said. “He spoke softly and it made everybody listen.”
Still, Blum said that she never felt that Folayemi fully settled into City Hall. He was a political street fighter, and navigating bureaucracy and red tape wasn’t his strength.
“I also felt he was a little uncomfortable on the council,” Blum said. “He didn’t enjoy being in power or making the decisions for everyone else.”
Less than a year into his term, Folayemi started to have troubles.
One of his creditors sued him for $7,000 for an overdue car loan. The debt sparked his critics to question whether he could manage the city’s money if he couldn’t manage his own finances. He weathered that storm, but then something more serious began to weaken him.
He was losing weight.
He started missing meetings. The behavior was unusual for the hard-working and unflappable Folayemi.
Behind the scenes, he drifted from City Hall and stopped attending meetings. No one knew where he was or what was going on. He seemingly disappeared.
Finally, after missing three council meetings in 18 days, Folayemi said he was entering the hospital because of unspecified health problems.
The nine-pound tumor
By the time he was admitted to Santa Barbara Cottage Hospital, he had lost 50 pounds, and had not eaten for nearly two weeks.
Folayemi learned that he had colon cancer—and a nine-pound tumor in his body. After a 10-hour surgery, doctors removed the tumor.
A Christian, he publicly thanked God for his recovery and credited his survival to his faith. Reinvigorated, he vowed to run for re-election. But although he survived the cancer, his political career wouldn’t experience the same result.
Re-election campaign
During less than two years, Folayemi found himself fighting off creditors in court and cancer in the hospital. And now he was about to launch a re-election campaign.
The ordeal was simply too much. He started raising money in June of 2003, later than what is typically necessary for a November election. He had been out of City Hall and the civic eye for about four months while recuperating.
And the energy behind his campaign from the first election simply wasn’t there.
Many of the supporters who backed him the first time had grown frustrated with him. They wondered why he kept his sickness silent, and disappeared, rather than sharing his illness right away.
And the political landscape was different. He was running against a new generation of progressive activists, Das Williams and Helene Schneider, and a well-known moderate, Brian Barnwell.
There would be no fourth place victories this time. Williams, Schneider and Barnwell far outraised Folayemi. Still, Folayemi felt as an incumbent that he stood a good chance of re-election.
He tried to inject some energy into his campaign during the last days. Volunteers projected his name and photo on blank walls downtown. They handed out fliers. But on election night, he fell short. Once again, he placed fourth. But it wasn’t good enough this time.
Folayemi credited his fourth-place finish to the loss of an endorsement by the Santa Barbara Independent, an endorsement he had during his first campaign.
The weekly newspaper, which carries great weight in elections, endorsed Williams, Schneider and Barnwell.
Folayemi at the time believed the lost endorsement was the difference in his campaign.
But he accepted the loss, and vowed to continue his activism. He said he would continue his focus on youth and social justice issues.
The one thing Folayemi never lost was his ability to touch people through his words.
“Babatunde made me feel the way that a priest or pastor should make you feel,” said Das Williams, now an Assemblyman.
“He inspired me and he inspired a lot of Santa Barbarans to be better. He inspired us to care more, to work harder, and be concerned about our fellow residents. He had a different spirituality and gentility and a passion that we should all strive to have.”
Folayemi remained active after his time on the council. He often surprised guests at the downtown Pascucci’s, where he served as guest host and even sold his homemade sweet potato pie.
He took a spiritual trip to the Middle East last decade and when he returned he refocused his activism on reducing gang violence in Santa Barbara.
In 2008, he brokered a peace treaty between rival Eastside and Westside gang members. Gang members signed a treaty agreeing to keep the peace. The treaty lasted only a few months, but Folayemi proved that he was able to connect with gang members in a way that many current law enforcement and decision-makers struggle to do.
And although Folayemi believed he lost power at City Hall as the council gained more conservatives, he began work on a “Green Streets” training program for young people, to help them get environmentally friendly jobs.
Last year, he told The Daily Sound that the city’s pursuit of a gang injunction was the wrong approach. He felt that government needed to do less talking at City Hall, and do more face-to-face time in the neighborhoods.
“Nobody is giving these kids a chance,” Folayemi said. “How can you do anything if you don’t know the community?”
Blum said the community will miss him.
“Babatunde was a real force,” she said. “His voice was heard. It was a quiet voice, but it was heard very strongly. He was a very wonderful soul who I am sure is doing just fine now. He was a kind and very peaceful man.”
Folayemi is survived by his wife Akivah Northern, his son, several nieces and nephews, as well as grandnieces and grandnephews.
He is also survived by his wife’s Aunt Bea (Vivian Scarbrough), who is 105 years old. “We are all grieving together,” said Akivah, in a statement. Babatunde’s family will celebrate his life with a public memorial service at a date yet to be determined.
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