Quincy Thomas outside of his father’s home on Somerville Avenue. — Photo by Anna J. James

In his final years, a veteran finally finds peace in Somerville
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By Anna J. James

On a warm summer day, my partner Quincy and I arrived in Somerville, three thousand miles from our home in Victoria, Canada. Just two days earlier, I discovered from a social worker at the Somerville Homeless Coalition (SHC) that his father had passed a month before.

Kenneth Thomas was an African-American Navy veteran who fought against racial injustice his entire life had died in subsidized housing, alone, found by the police after being tipped off by his landlord.

Initially, we were incredibly distressed and saddened by the way he went out, only to find hope – in Somerville, a place we’d never been where Kenneth had finally found a home and community that held him to his end.

Quincy and his father had gotten back in regular contact five years ago. Kenneth expressed to Quincy and others that being a father was very important to him. They had increased their contact in the last year, sending emails and calling each other at least once a month.

After a month or so of not hearing from Kenneth, we started to worry. It was a nightmare situation. We had no contact details for Kenneth – other than his email address and landline – so we began calling around Somerville, starting with the churches and social services. Each person we were able to reach listened to our predicament and offered to help.

From the people we spoke with in Somerville, Kenneth led a difficult life. Born in 1955, he said he began experiencing prejudice as a child in Florida, but his love for his country never wavered. Kenneth served in the US Navy in the ‘70s and was given an honorable discharge.

His bad experiences and pursuit of equality made him, at times, bitter and explosive, for which he spent time in prison. Kenneth was finally given a home on Somerville Avenue through Somerville Community Corporation’s 75 Cross Street facility, after several years living on the streets of Boston. He was also provided the support and ear of social workers, namely Mark Alston-Follansbee.

Upon hearing of his passing, we flew to Boston and drove to Somerville to see what his life was like and thank those who helped him. We sat with Hannah O’Halloran at SHC, who gave us the space to grieve and some information on his day-to-day life.

From what we gleaned from Hannah and Mark, Kenneth was an avid reader, mainly on physics and social issues. He spent a lot of time in the library at MIT sourcing articles that he was so passionate about that he insisted others should read. He’d show up to their offices with clippings and return demanding feedback. He was fastidious about his diet and clocked 1,000 push-ups a day.

He rode a black bike with silver duct tape and a milk crate to hold his books. We arrived at his former address on Somerville Avenue, where he used to sit in a chair directly across from Market Basket. None of his belongings were saved, except for his bike, that was left outside his place, untouched. After speaking to his neighbors, we decided to take it, and as we were releasing it, a lady flew out of nowhere, “What are you doing? That’s Kenneth’s bike!” In this moment we felt relieved, that after a lifetime of not trusting, Kenneth finally knew people who had his back.

Kenneth’s heart gave out on May 25, the same day George Floyd died and ignited protests across the world. When Quincy put the dates together, it made poetic sense. “They marched for him, too” he told me. He is finally at peace at the Massachusetts National Cemetery.