United

United Plot Summary

Introduction

In the heart of a divided America, Cory Booker stands as a unique voice calling for unity across the chasms that separate us. Born to IBM executives who fought housing discrimination to secure their family's place in suburban New Jersey, Booker's journey from Stanford football player to Rhodes Scholar to U.S. Senator represents an American story that bridges multiple worlds. Along the way, he chose a path less traveled - moving into Brick Towers, one of Newark's most troubled housing projects, where he learned that true leadership begins with seeing the humanity in everyone, regardless of circumstance. Booker's life demonstrates a powerful truth: that meaningful change happens not through grand gestures, but through what he calls a "conspiracy of love" - countless small acts of kindness, courage, and commitment that, taken together, can transform communities and lives. Through his experiences in Newark's toughest neighborhoods, in city government, and in the Senate, Booker reveals lessons about empathy, responsibility, and action that transcend political divides. His story challenges us to recognize our profound interconnectedness and to understand that our greatness as a nation comes not from how we celebrate our individual achievements, but from how we commit ourselves to each other in common purpose. In a time of deepening polarization, Booker offers a vision of leadership that begins with love and manifests in the daily work of bringing people together to advance the common good.

Chapter 1: A Conspiracy of Love: Family Roots and Fair Housing

Cory Booker didn't fully understand the significance of his family's journey until he appeared on Henry Louis Gates Jr.'s show "Finding Your Roots." The experience was humbling, particularly as he was paired with civil rights icon John Lewis. While Lewis had marched and bled for freedom, Booker joked that his childhood drama consisted of falling off his Big Wheel in the suburbs. Yet Gates revealed something profound: Booker's very presence in that New Jersey suburb was directly connected to the civil rights movement that Lewis helped lead. In 1969, Booker's parents faced entrenched housing discrimination when they tried to move to Bergen County, New Jersey. Despite their positions as IBM executives, real estate agents steered them away from white neighborhoods. His father would drive to look at houses only to find himself an attraction - neighbors would suddenly appear outside, watching the Black family visiting their community. When the Bookers found a home they loved in Harrington Park, they were told it was already sold. But the Fair Housing Council, inspired by the civil rights movement including the famous Bloody Sunday march in Selma, sent white "testers" who discovered the house was still available. What happened next was dramatic. The Fair Housing Council's lawyer, Marty Friedman, confronted the real estate agent with Booker's father. The agent punched Friedman in the face, called for his dog to attack them, and desperately tried to destroy the evidence. Despite the violence, the confrontation ultimately succeeded - the Booker family moved into the house on Norma Road, becoming "four raisins in a tub of sweet vanilla ice cream," as Booker's father would later joke. Lee Porter, president of the Fair Housing Council, had herself faced discrimination years earlier. After helping the Bookers, she continued her work for nearly fifty years, breaking down barriers for countless families. Carolyn Booker was so inspired that she became a council volunteer and eventually its board president. This "conspiracy of love" - volunteers, lawyers, and activists working together - created opportunities that would shape Booker's life. Booker's family history ran deeper than he knew. Gates revealed ancestors who were slaves and slave owners, Confederate soldiers and Native Americans. He learned his grandfather's father was a white doctor in Louisiana, a fact his grandfather had longed to know during his lifetime. Most poignantly, Gates identified one ancestor simply as "Slave Mother," her name lost to history. These revelations gave Booker a profound sense of his place in America's complex tapestry and reinforced what his parents had always taught him: "We drink deeply from wells of freedom and opportunity that we did not dig."

Chapter 2: Talents: Discovering Purpose through Service and Faith

At twenty-five, Cory Booker found himself in a state of uncomfortable uncertainty. Throughout his life, he had always known exactly what came next: excel in school, play varsity sports, attend Stanford, earn a Rhodes Scholarship, go to Yale Law. He had been the quintessential goal-oriented achiever, always with whiteboards in his bedroom listing his objectives. But now, in his first year at Yale Law School, the clear path suddenly vanished. He felt passionate about working with underserved communities but couldn't articulate a concrete plan for his future. When his mother asked what he planned to do after graduation – a question that made him squirm – Booker had no answer except a vague desire to "help people." During a visit home, his mother delivered a transformative lesson that would alter his thinking forever. She shared the biblical parable of talents, where a master gives three servants money to manage in his absence. Two servants invest wisely and double their amounts, while the third buries his talent out of fear, earning his master's condemnation. "Son, don't bury what God gave you," she told him. "The world doesn't need your self-imposed limitations; it doesn't need your fear." Then she asked a question that would become his guiding light: "What would you do if you could not fail?" This question awakened Booker's imagination and sense of purpose. Rather than focusing on obstacles, he began asking empowering questions about possibilities. Booker applied lessons from his football days at Stanford, where he had once found success by studying the team's best wide receiver and adopting his practices. He now sought out role models in public service, visiting organizations like the Vera Institute of Justice and the Harlem Children's Zone. He connected with leaders who were transforming communities and making systemic change. Through this exploration, he found himself increasingly drawn to Newark, New Jersey – a city just eighteen miles from where he grew up but worlds away in opportunity. Newark resonated with Booker on a profound level. Despite its challenges, the city emanated a spirit of resilience and determination that mirrored his own. He appreciated how Newarkers pushed back against anyone who focused only on problems while ignoring potential. As Alice Walker wrote, "The most common way people give up their power is by thinking they don't have any." In Newark, Booker found people who refused to surrender their power. By his final year of law school, Booker had made his decision: he would move to Newark, start a nonprofit focused on tenant rights, and dedicate himself to serving the community. When Ray Chambers, a successful businessman and Newark philanthropist, suggested that Booker should run for mayor instead, Booker dismissed the idea. His path was now clear – and it led directly to one of Newark's most challenged housing projects, where he would meet a woman who would become his greatest teacher.

Chapter 3: Ms. Virginia Jones: Learning to See with the Heart

Virginia Jones was the 68-year-old president of the tenants association at Brick Towers, a pair of sixteen-story low-income buildings on Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard in Newark. When Booker first met her, she was gruff, dismissive, and seemingly unimpressed by his Yale Law credentials and earnest promises to help. Instead of welcoming him with open arms, she put him through a rigorous initiation process – having him carry supplies for cookouts, post flyers, and assist with tenant meetings – testing his commitment to her community. One day, Ms. Jones asked Booker to follow her outside the building. Standing on the street corner, she demanded: "Describe what you see around you." Confused but compliant, Booker began listing the physical surroundings – the buildings, the street, the bodega, the abandoned house nicknamed "Happy House" where people used drugs. As he continued, her disappointment grew visible. Finally, she raised her hand to stop him: "You can't help me," she said, turning to walk away. When Booker asked what she meant, Ms. Jones delivered a lesson that would transform his perspective forever: "The world you see outside of you is a reflection of what you have inside of you. If all you see are problems, darkness, and despair, then that is all there is ever going to be. But if you are one of those stubborn people who every time you open your eyes you see hope, you see opportunity, possibility, you see love or the face of God, then you can be someone who helps me." In that moment, Booker realized he had been seeing the neighborhood through a lens of fear and judgment. The drug dealers on the corner, the dilapidated buildings – he had reduced the community to its challenges rather than seeing its humanity. Ms. Jones was teaching him that true leadership begins with vision – the ability to see beyond present circumstances to possibility. As Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. wrote in his "Letter from a Birmingham Jail," segregation substitutes an "I-it" relationship for an "I-thou" relationship, relegating persons to the status of things. What Booker didn't know was that Ms. Jones had already claimed him as her own. Jean Wright, another tenant leader, later told him: "Virginia knew as soon as you moved across the street that you were hers. She took to you right away. You didn't know it, but you were her son from the start." Even the drug dealers in front of the building revealed that Ms. Jones had protected Booker, telling them: "Look, don't you be doing this. Cory is okay. Cory is all right. He's family." Ms. Jones had lived in Brick Towers since 1970, when the buildings were new and residents had to earn their way in through a rigorous application process. She created a community where every child was treated as her own and every adult was expected to exercise parental responsibility toward all children. The buildings thrived under her leadership until the 1980s, when mismanagement and the drug trade began to undermine the community. Despite these challenges, Ms. Jones remained steadfast – even after her own son was murdered in the lobby of one of the buildings in 1980. In 1998, Booker moved from across the street into Brick Towers, where he would live until the buildings were closed in 2006. Throughout those years, Ms. Jones continued to teach him the meaning of love in action – a stubborn, defiant love that refused to surrender to despair. "Housing is a human right," she insisted, and she fought for that right until her last day in the towers.

Chapter 4: Do Something: Taking Action in Newark Politics

In July 1999, just one year after being elected to the Newark City Council, Cory Booker was ready to quit politics. He had slammed down the phone after arguing with Elaine Sewell, the president of the Garden Spires tenants association, frustrated by his inability to help with problems in her housing complex. Despite his idealistic campaign promises, Booker found himself stymied at every turn – outvoted 8-1 on the council and actively undermined by Mayor Sharpe James. Booker had given up a legal fellowship helping tenants to run for office, but now felt powerless to create real change. His relationships with fellow council members were strained because he had positioned himself as a reformer, refusing perks like city cars and expense accounts. Though well-intentioned, his sanctimonious approach had alienated potential allies. As veteran council member Donald Tucker advised: "You need to learn to count to five" – the number needed for a majority on the nine-member council. The mayor made matters worse, telling Booker in a meeting: "You are a legislator, not an administrator. You need to know your role." Then James revealed something chilling – he knew exactly where Booker spent time in Montclair, even citing the specific address. The implied threat was clear: Booker was being watched. This was confirmed by strange incidents – city workers afraid to talk to him, his car repeatedly ticketed even when legally parked, and eventually, a revelation that his office phones were being tapped. Walking back to Brick Towers after his heated exchange with Elaine Sewell, Booker encountered Ms. Virginia Jones, who immediately sensed his distress. When he unloaded his frustrations – "I'm not getting enough done! The city government is dysfunctional! I was doing more for the Central Ward before I got elected!" – Ms. Jones listened patiently and then offered a deceptively simple piece of advice: "I know what you should do... You should do something." Initially dismissive of this seemingly obvious counsel, Booker returned to his apartment and reflected on a Bible verse about faith the size of a mustard seed being able to move mountains. Ms. Jones's words began to make sense: he was so focused on what he couldn't do that he had lost sight of what he could do. He was allowing his inability to solve everything to undermine his determination to do something. That "something" became a bold direct action. Despite his staff's concerns about safety, Booker decided to set up a tent at Garden Spires, conduct a hunger strike, and engage in prayer until conditions improved. On August 15, 1999, he pitched a large tent between the buildings, bringing together county officials, state representatives, and community members. Notably absent were any city officials. The campout became a catalyst for positive change. Correctional officers volunteered as security. Community organizations offered support. West Orange Mayor John McKeon sent police and arranged daily bread deliveries. The tenants association held rights seminars, and volunteers organized activities for children. After ten days, Mayor James finally arrived – and in a surprising turn, Booker welcomed him warmly rather than attacking him. The two men hugged, and James promised improvements including a police command post and a new park. Though not all the mayor's promises materialized, the campout demonstrated something vital: when conventional political channels failed, direct action could still produce results. More importantly, it showed Booker that even without formal power, he could make a difference. The final prayer circle before ending the fast brought together people of all ages, races, and backgrounds in a powerful display of unity. "Where there is unity, there is strength," Booker told them. "We know, as the African proverb says, that sticks in a bundle can't be broken."

Chapter 5: My Father's Son: Facing Urban Violence and Personal Loss

On a warm spring day in 2004, Cory Booker and his father were walking through Newark's Central Ward to visit a supportive family on 18th Avenue. Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of gunshots echoing between buildings. While his father stood frozen on the street, Booker sprinted toward the sound, reaching a small grassy hill where he found a young man bleeding profusely from multiple gunshot wounds. As the victim lay dying in Booker's arms, he desperately tried to clear blood from the young man's mouth and keep him breathing until the ambulance arrived. Despite these efforts, the young man died there on the grass. When Booker walked back to his father, covered in blood, something broke in the older man. Cary Booker Sr., who normally exuded positivity and warmth, seemed diminished by what he had witnessed. Later, as they processed the trauma together, his father made a haunting observation: "Son, I worry that a boy growing up like I did—poor, black, to a single mother in a segregated town—would have a better chance of making it in America if he was born in 1936 rather than being born today." This reflection cut Booker deeply because statistics supported his father's grim assessment. African American boys born in the 2000s faced alarming odds: they were two and a half times more likely to be suspended from school than their white peers, had a one in two chance of being arrested, and for those who didn't graduate high school, were more likely to go to prison than have a full-time job. The leading cause of death for young black men was murder – a reality Booker was now confronting firsthand. The weight of urban violence became even more personal in August 2006, just weeks after Booker's inauguration as mayor. That month, Newark experienced ten murders in ten days. One night, while riding with Police Director Sammy DeMaio, Booker received a call about another shooting at Riverview Terrace public housing. Racing to the scene, they found a fourteen-year-old named Ali Rajohn Eric Henderson shot dead. Looking at the boy's muscular frame, Booker initially questioned if he was really just fourteen. Later, police discovered thirty bricks of heroin, a loaded handgun, and ammunition in the boy's bedroom. Another devastating loss came in 2006 when Booker learned that a young man named Hassan Washington had been killed. Hassan had lived four floors below Booker in Brick Towers and had grown up before his eyes. As a child, Hassan had been bright and curious; as a teenager, he began dealing drugs and displaying Bloods gang signs. Booker had tried to intervene, taking Hassan and his friends to movies and introducing them to mentors who had escaped the drug trade. But amid the intensity of running for mayor, Booker had lost track of Hassan. Just weeks after Booker's inauguration, Hassan was shot dead. At Hassan's wake, Booker was overwhelmed with guilt. Standing in the funeral home basement, he thought about Hassan's father, Charlton Holliday, who had been incarcerated for murder since Hassan was an infant. He thought about cycles of violence and how they consumed generations. Most of all, he reflected on his own failure: "God had put Hassan on my doorstep, right in front of me, day after day. But, unlike all those who had helped my dad in the 1940s and '50s, I had not stepped up. I hadn't paid it forward." These experiences transformed Booker's understanding of urban violence. It wasn't just a policy issue to be addressed through policing and programs; it was a human tragedy that demanded a recognition of our interconnectedness. "We are one body, one nation under God, indivisible," Booker reflected. "As has been said, injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. But what happens when we are unaware of the trials and tribulations of our countrymen and women? Do we become complicit in that injustice? Do we contribute to its spread?"

Chapter 6: To Washington: Bringing Criminal Justice Reform to the Senate

In the summer of 2013, while campaigning for the U.S. Senate in a special election, Cory Booker received devastating news: his father had suffered a stroke. Already battling Parkinson's disease, Cary Booker Sr. was now unable to speak or even recognize his son. Though campaign staff supported the idea of Booker leaving the trail to be with his father, his mother insisted he keep campaigning – it would be what his dad wanted. Though Booker didn't know Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid at the time, Reid learned of his father's condition and immediately responded with compassion. The senator personally visited Cary Booker's bedside in Las Vegas, comforted Booker's mother, and showed a kindness that deeply moved the family. Six days before the election, Booker received another call from his mother – his father had passed away. On October 31, 2013, when Booker was sworn in as the fourth Black person ever popularly elected to the U.S. Senate, his father's absence weighed heavily on his heart. That morning, before taking his oath, Booker had breakfast with his mother and Congressman John Lewis in the congressman's office. The walls around them featured photographs documenting Lewis's pivotal role in the civil rights movement. As Booker looked at these images, he felt a profound sense of being "elevated" – just as he had felt when his father would lift him onto his shoulders as a boy. Lewis's presence helped fill the void left by his father's absence, reminding Booker that he stood "on higher ground, territory that our ancestors earned for us." As Booker and his mother walked through the Capitol's corridors before the swearing-in ceremony, she delivered a final maternal lecture: "Don't get carried away with all of this. Always remember why you came down here and who sent you. Remember, of he to whom much is given, much is required. Remember, the title doesn't make the man, the man must make the title." Booker knew exactly why he had come to Washington. Throughout his campaign, he had spoken passionately about reforming America's broken criminal justice system – an issue he had confronted daily as mayor of Newark. Since the 1970s, America had embraced increasingly punitive approaches to crime, resulting in an 800% expansion of the federal prison population since 1980. The United States had become the global leader in incarceration, with 5% of the world's population but 25% of its prisoners. This mass incarceration fell disproportionately on poor and minority Americans. If born in America today, a white person has a 1-in-17 chance of spending time in jail; a Latino, 1-in-6; a Black person, 1-in-3. Those with felony convictions face overwhelming obstacles to employment, housing, education, and even basic citizenship rights like voting. Nearly 80% are rearrested within five years of release. In Newark, Booker had seen how this system ravaged communities. As mayor, he had launched innovative reentry programs to help formerly incarcerated people find jobs and rebuild their lives. His administration created the state's first municipal office of reentry, established a Clean & Green program to provide environmental jobs, and formed support groups to reduce recidivism. But these local efforts, while important, couldn't address the fundamental federal policies driving mass incarceration. In the Senate, Booker found an unexpected opportunity: criminal justice reform had emerged as a rare issue with bipartisan support. Conservatives concerned about government overreach, fiscal waste, and religious values of redemption found common ground with progressives focused on racial justice and human rights. Booker began working across the aisle with Republican senators like Rand Paul, Mike Lee, Ted Cruz, and John Cornyn to craft legislation that could begin dismantling the policies that had filled America's prisons. "In this fight, I have found allies in the Koch brothers, as well as the Clintons," Booker noted. "I have worked not only across the aisle but across the Capitol." This willingness to find common ground, even with political opponents, reflected a lesson Booker had learned in Newark: "When it comes time to govern, you have to let go of any hurt generated by the insults or dirty tricks of a campaign." As Lincoln had put it: "Do I not destroy my enemies when I make them my friends?"

Chapter 7: The Law of the Commons: Environmental Justice for All

Cory Booker's environmental awakening came through Newark's Passaic River – a once-magnificent waterway that had been devastated by industrial pollution. In 1961, as the Vietnam War escalated, a Newark factory called Diamond Alkali began producing Agent Orange, a chemical defoliant sprayed across Vietnamese jungles. The factory reportedly dumped "bad" batches directly into the Passaic River rather than investing in proper disposal methods – a decision that saved the company money but poisoned the river for generations. By 1983, the EPA confirmed extreme levels of contaminants at the site and added it to the National Priorities List of Superfund sites. The river contained dioxins – the most dangerous by-product of Agent Orange manufacturing – along with PCBs and mercury, chemicals linked to cancer, reproductive problems, learning disabilities, and immune system damage. This environmental catastrophe had robbed Newark residents of a precious natural resource and created a public health crisis. Nancy Zak, a longtime activist in Newark's Ironbound neighborhood, became one of Booker's environmental teachers. She told him how government workers wearing hazmat suits had come to test for contaminants in places where families lived and children played. According to Nancy, they found the highest levels of dioxins in any community in the United States. Workers in protective gear vacuumed up barrels of contaminated dirt from parks, streets, and school grounds – places where residents had been exposed for years. Booker came to understand that environmental injustice disproportionately affects poor and minority communities across America. Approximately eleven million Americans, including three to four million children, live within one mile of a Superfund site. Studies show that babies born to mothers living near these sites before cleanup have a 20% greater chance of birth defects. While there are more than 1,300 Superfund sites across all fifty states, New Jersey has the most – and funding for cleanup has significantly decreased. Beyond water pollution, Booker learned about other environmental health crises affecting Newark's children. Frank Hutchins, a housing advocate, opened Booker's eyes to the prevalence of lead poisoning and asthma. Each year, more than half a million American children under six are diagnosed with lead poisoning, which causes learning disabilities, speech delays, and memory problems. Children with lead poisoning are seven times more likely to drop out of school and six times more likely to become involved in the juvenile justice system. Similarly, childhood asthma rates have skyrocketed, especially in inner cities. Poor Americans are at least 50% more likely to have the disease than those not living in poverty. Because of asthma, children miss approximately thirteen million school days per year, making it the single most prevalent cause of childhood disability in the United States. The cost to taxpayers exceeds $50 billion annually in healthcare expenses, missed school and work days, and early deaths. As mayor, Booker worked with activists to reclaim Newark's environmental strength. He partnered with the Greater Newark Conservancy, a nonprofit focused on improving the city's natural environment, to transform vacant lots into community gardens and urban farms. What began as small neighborhood projects grew into a movement that produced 65,000 pounds of fresh vegetables annually, providing healthy food and educational opportunities in communities that had long been food deserts. These urban farms also became sites of personal transformation. The city's Clean & Green program hired formerly incarcerated people to work the land, giving them job skills and a connection to nature that proved powerfully therapeutic. Robin Dougherty, the conservancy's director, described how participants who initially approached the work with skepticism would become deeply invested as they watched their seeds grow into plants. "I'd swear it's the first time in their lives they ever had any self-esteem about anything," she said. "Just to watch them glow over what they had done." Through these experiences, Booker came to see environmental justice as inseparable from his broader mission of advancing equality and opportunity. Access to clean air, water, and green spaces isn't a luxury – it's a fundamental right that has been systematically denied to too many Americans. As Justinian, the Roman emperor who codified the public trust doctrine around AD 530, recognized: nature is part of the public commons, something we all depend on and are all responsible for preserving.

Summary

Cory Booker's journey reveals a profound truth about American life: we are deeply interconnected, our fates bound together in ways we often fail to recognize. From the Fair Housing activists who helped his family move into suburban New Jersey to the mentors who shaped his understanding of leadership in Newark's toughest neighborhoods, Booker's story demonstrates how positive change emerges from what he calls a "conspiracy of love" – countless small acts of courage, kindness, and determination that, taken together, can transform communities and lives. Throughout his experiences as a tenant advocate, city councilman, mayor, and senator, Booker has remained committed to the belief that our greatest strength as Americans comes not from celebrating our individual achievements but from recognizing our obligations to one another. As he discovered in confronting issues from urban violence to mass incarceration to environmental injustice, the challenges we face demand a recognition of our shared humanity and destiny. True leadership begins with seeing beyond surface differences to the essential connections between us – what Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. called our "inescapable network of mutuality." In a time of deepening polarization, Booker offers an urgent message: that we must choose to go together rather than alone, to find common ground and advance the common good. For as the African proverb reminds us, "If you want to go fast, go alone, but if you want to go far, go together."

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Cory Booker

Cory Anthony Booker is an American politician and the junior United States Senator from New Jersey, in office since 2013. Previously he served as mayor of Newark from 2006 to 2013.

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