(gentle music) (gentle music continues) (gentle music continues) - [Wynona] My father was a Republican 'cause he thought Abraham Lincoln was Republican.

He should be a Republican.

But I consciously chose to be a Democrat 'cause when I went to school and took political science, you know, Democrats seemed to be more liberal, more embracing of African Americans and all races, and it just seemed to me to be more comradery.

The legislature is supposed to be a part-time job, but you are on call.

We are ceremonial people, you know, we present resolution.

There's always some place to go.

Any time you can mention there's something going on, my schedule goes on and on and on.

I have participated in many political functions, you know, all the time.

Galas of all kinds, conferences and so forth.

I have made some very good friends here since I've been in Newark.

(gentle music continues) (gentle music continues) (gentle music continues) (fire crackling) - [Narrator] The night was sultry, filled with the scent of magnolias wafting through the hot summer night's air of LaGrange, Georgia.

(gentle music) 10-year-old Catherine Penn, visiting her grandparents on school vacation, and her cousin, Wynona Moore, roughly three years her junior, were asleep in an upstairs bedroom of the family homestead on the edge of town.

(tense music) Suddenly, the sky was aglow, a huge wooden cross burning on the front lawn.

"When the sky lit up, it looked so beautiful, I called out 'Grandma, Grandma, come see the pretty lights!

'", Catherine said, reflecting on that night years ago, when the reality of racism came calling at her family's doorstep.

In those days, LaGrange, located midway between Atlanta and Tuskegee, Alabama, had a population of about 20,000, 3/4 white, the rest Black or Native Americans.

As for many Southern families, life in the Moore household revolved around hearth and home, their huge house, with its welcoming wraparound porch, at 508 Union Street.

Set in the middle of a triangular strip on the outskirts of town, amid a grove of tall trees, theirs was one of the largest houses around, an attraction of sort, because it was owned by Negroes.

"Often, poor whites stopped by to ask for tours," recalled Lipman's niece, Saundra DeGeneste.

"My grandmother would just shoo them away."

From a child's perspective, growing up in LaGrange, even in the midst of the Great Depression, and despite the hostility of the KKK, it was almost idyllic.

- [Wynona] They respected my father because he was able to produce a beautiful house or whatever it is that they wanted him to build.

So they treated him, they'd come to the drug store and sit with him and talk in the back room.

But it was no usual camaraderie.

For example, we weren't allowed to go to the movies, but they invited my father and his family.

But they did invite us to sit upstairs, they did.

Here, it was a different thing.

I was grown up.

When they'd say something that wasn't right to me, I'd answer 'em back real fast.

- [Narrator] John Wesley Moore, Sr. and Annabelle Torian married on July 2nd, 1915, as the nation was about to enter World War I. Wynona was the second of their children.

Both she and her sister, Eloise, pursued careers in teaching.

Their brothers, John Wesley Moore, Jr., the oldest child, and Donald Torian Moore, the youngest, both graduated from Meharry Medical College, one of just two Black American medical colleges at that time.

Wynona, who had completed her undergraduate work at Talladega College in Alabama and received her master's degree from Atlanta University, eventually would be off to Europe to continue her studies.

As fate would have it, Wynona could not have met Matthew Lipman, her husband to be, in a more romantic place.

(smooth music) "We were both Fulbright scholars on our way to Paris, aboard a beautiful ocean liner," Matthew Lipman recalled.

In addition to their scholarly pursuits, their personalities meshed.

At the Sorbonne, Wynona studied French.

Matt was studying for his doctorate in philosophy.

Young and idealistic, they married at City Hall in Paris in 1952.

Both Matthew and Wynona received their doctoral degrees from Columbia University in New York in 1954.

(gentle music) (film reel whirring) Wynona and Matt had two children, Karen and Will.

Years later, Wynona suffered the most painful experience of her life when Will, who was just 22, died of Hodgkin's disease.

- And my mother was always on the phone.

She was always talking to someone about doing something for the community.

She never really had what I would call friends.

They were always trying to do something for somebody.

I remember that when our toys, when we stopped playing with them, she would donate them to the community center around the corner.

So she was always doing something with the community.

My mother was always the same.

She was always my mother.

She was always either in the kitchen, cooking, on the phone (laughs), or she had thousands of papers that she was going through on the table.

And she was always like that.

She was always doing something, always working.

It was natural to me.

It was something that she did and something that she loved, so it was something that was natural for her.

And when she was happy, I was happy.

It was just, I just wanted her to be happy, and that she threw her whole life into being a state senator in Newark.

- [Narrator] Wynona Lipman got into politics the way many people do, as a district leader, representing the people of her neighborhood in Montclair, New Jersey.

Senator Nia Gill explains.

- Having been Senator Lipman's babysitter, seeing how she had moved in the world in a very powerful manner, I certainly looked up to her.

She graduated from college at the age of 16.

She taught Dr. Martin Luther King French, she tutored him in French.

She went to the Sorbonne.

She married a man, Matt, who if she married him in her state of Georgia, it would have been a crime.

She moved to Montclair.

And when she moved to Montclair, actually, she was in the PTA.

And one of the things she did to galvanize support as president, as PTA, she organized in protest to the school board that they were not going to continue to dump dirty snow in neighborhoods where Black and brown people lived in Montclair.

And she organized.

They obviously (chuckles) had to reverse their course.

And Montclair, as we remember, was a bastion of Republican power.

We all remember Ms. Tate and everyone like that.

And Senator Lipman came and organized people, organized them block by block.

And one thing that was extremely important is that people trusted Senator Lipman, and people had this understanding that she was the honest broker at the power table for the people that were voiceless.

And so she organized block by block, and Montclair then became a bastion of Democratic power.

(upbeat music) - [Narrator] The Democrats liked the way Wynona presented herself and thought she could unite the two sides, which she successfully did.

- I was a good friend of Larrie West Stalks, who was then the Essex County Register.

And she said, "Cathy," she said, "There's someone we've got to meet."

Wynona was living in Montclair at the time, and she was working, I believe, at Essex County College, teaching.

And we met with her, and she just got so excited about the things I had already experienced.

I was rather young at the time.

But she was just so excited that I had had so many different involvement in different projects, et cetera.

And she said, "You gotta come help me, 'cause I'm running for freeholder."

And she did.

And she won.

And she served, I believe it was two terms, as a freeholder.

And then she told me, she called me one day and she said, "You know what, Catherine?

I'm not gonna run for this spot no more.

I'm going to the Senate.

We need a Black woman representing us in that New Jersey State Senate."

And I did whatever she instructed me to do as far as helping her get the word out, knocking on doors, making phone calls, and sometimes accompanying her to various events.

So that's how I really got involved with Wynona initially.

She was successful when she ran for Senator, and she said, "We gotta have a office, a local office, and I want you to be my aide."

And truthfully speaking, even though I received a salary from her, I really donated it back to her, because it was on the state payroll, and she really did not have the money to really project herself like most of the male partners were doing.

And so since I still have my job at New Jersey Bell, I was willing to volunteer my time as a aide and donate the salary back to her for her cause.

- She needed help, and then she agreed with us, and she became like a friend, a mentor.

We loved her dearly.

And we would take personal anything bad about her that people had to say.

But we didn't just let it lay.

She had a reputation for...

They used to say, "She's always drinking," because she appeared ditzy.

I'm using this very frankly with you.

But she was a long way from ditzy.

She was extraordinarily bright.

And when I say bright, I mean intrinsically, in terms of education and learning and understanding.

She got it.

She was also isolated, because at that time, to be married to a white man wasn't very popular in the Black community.

So she had to also prove her worth, which was unfair.

But Matt was cool.

I think he taught, and she had two kids who were also, like, very close to us.

I was able to connect with Will because we both did jazz.

And he had, like, huge jazz collection.

When he died, I don't know what happened to that.

And Karen, of course, was the older.

But we took her on as if she were a project.

We went to all the meetings that she had to go to.

That was, one, a way of assuring that she could get there on time.

Now, most of the time, she didn't drive herself, but she would get blamed for being late all the time, or missing key committee meetings.

So, we worked it out.

She didn't miss any more meetings.

And we're not taking responsibility for her.

She was her own person.

But if she was your friend, you know, she really was your friend.

When I was in law school, I think I had Kai.

Kai was like a year old.

And I wasn't working.

I'm having a baby, you know?

I'm in law school.

I don't got time to do this stuff anymore.

She put me on her payroll so I would have income while I was recuperating.

That's how she thinks, right?

Because all the stuff that we had done for no pay, she just made sure that we were covered.

I'll never forget that.

- [Narrator] Over the years, Lipman had many aides.

Nia would go on to earn a law degree from Rutgers University.

Served several terms in the state assembly before becoming state senator, representing the 34th district in 2002.

Christy Davis was a legislative aide.

- I remember a meeting, and it sticks in my head like a little tick.

It was at the Essex Club, which was all male.

You had to be invited in.

It was next door to her offices.

And Senator Lipman was the first female member of the Essex Club.

It was in downtown Newark.

And we were meeting with Tom Kean, the governor.

And when I came into the room with the senator, I remember sitting at a back wall, like you would, like an aide would sit.

They wouldn't sit at the primary table.

And Senator Lipman and I were in first, and then the governor comes in.

And I sit on the back wall, and the senator was seated at the head of the table, and she said, "Sister Christie, I need you to sit right here."

And the governor was seated to her left with his aides.

And she was inviting me, and again, I remember this like it was yesterday, to understand the cadence of power.

The cadence of power is when you have the audience of someone like the governor, to invite others and to understand how you wield power, what it means, and how to really wield it appropriately.

What she was saying to the governor was, "This is the next generation of leader, and I need you to take note of her, even if it's just moving her from one seat to another."

So she did what she did so perfectly, which was to invite other people always to the table.

She never sat at a table alone.

(gentle music) - [Narrator] Bucking the old guard, Lipman decided to support a group of Democrats seeking to reform the county government.

They were pressing for a county executive at the helm, a change that would greatly diminish the freeholder's power.

Not only did Lipman support the reform movement, she also supported Peter Shapiro, the movement's candidate.

With her help, he became Essex County's first executive.

Wynona Lipman was a loyal Democrat.

One thing for sure, she was a survivor.

- [Wynona] I was afraid I was sassy sometimes, but you know, that's the way it was.

When I was a freeholder, the freeholders were all older, and they used to ask me, "Where's the rest of your dress?

", if my dress was short and style, you know, like it was, and all of that, and I used to feel like they were my fathers.

- [Narrator] As elegant as she looked in her couture clothes, and as unruffled as she seemed, she knew exactly how to play politics.

While other legislators came and went, she won elections time and time again.

No one was going to beat her or take her off the line.

But still, she worried.

The reality, of course, was that Lipman had nothing to fear.

"Harry Lerner decided to kick me upstairs," Wynona reportedly told friends.

For both of them, but especially for her constituents, the move proved to be a stroke of political genius.

For the next three decades, she was a democratic force at the state level, rarely taking a respite from 70 hour work weeks.

(gentle music) (upbeat music) Lipman's house on Chestnut Street in Montclair became a hotbed of activity.

Ordinarily, Wynona Lipman would've been a shoe-in for the Senate.

That all changed when the area she represented was redistricted.

To run in Newark, she would have to live in Newark.

In Newark, Wynona Lipman settled into a spacious apartment, a luxury building overlooking Weequahic Park.

- At the time she was elected to the Senate, there were only 21 senators.

And so she was the only African American woman.

After they did the reapportionment and redistricting, they wanted to get rid of Senator Lipman and her voice and her power, so they put Montclair into a district that was more Republican, so they knew she would not be able to get elected.

But the people said, "Move to Newark, we need your voice."

And then she moved to Newark.

And as a result, she was able to continue to be reelected for years.

So, I got sort of like a bird's eye view of a woman, a Black woman who had to negotiate all of these different kinds of situations and the personal strength, and as well as their political strength, 'cause it didn't matter where you were in New Jersey, your Black Senator Lipman was your senator.

(chuckles) You know, you were a woman, Senator Lipman was your senator.

And that was an awesome responsibility that she took very serious and very courageous.

And the racism and the sexism that she experienced, on some level, infuriated me.

And so when I would say, "Senator Lipman, how could you allow that to happen?"

And she would say, "Some of these things I'm doing so that you do not have to repeat them."

And so when you understand that, then you understand that you have to stand in your own power as a woman and a woman of color.

And if that makes people uncomfortable, then so be it.

But you must do it, 'cause Senator Lipman did the other part so that we could stand firm and proud and powerful as a source and voice for our people.

So when they say, "Well, why don't you back down, Senator Gill?"

I said, "Because Senator Lipman didn't back down, and there is no way I can back down."

- [Narrator] On the stump, Lipman was humble, sincere, and friendly, just as she was in everyday life.

She shook every hand, listened to every problem, and acted on every issue affecting her constituents.

Whereas many of her colleagues concerned themselves with the demands of big businesses and special interest groups, her primary issues were the rights of women, children, families, and underserved populations, as evidenced by her bills she introduced and worked doggedly to turn into law.

- The Republicans and the Democrats had what they called a lunch caucus.

Every Monday and Thursday, they met at the State House, and they took a break for lunch.

The Republicans would be in one room and the Democrats would be in the other room, and they would talk about legislation coming up on the floor.

And Senator was talking about her legislation on domestic violence and how important it was and everybody needs to vote.

And I whisper to her, I say, "Senator, who's advocating for this domestic violence bill in the Republican caucus?"

She said, "Oh, Della," and she wrote down a little note, "Take this across the hall to Senator Bassano."

And I went across the hall, knocked on the door.

They wouldn't let me in, of course, but they took the note and gave it to Senator Bassano, and Senator Bassano stood up for her bill during the Republican caucus.

Ladies and gentlemen, it's important to have representation on both sides of the aisle.

- [Narrator] Senator Lipman was a protector.

Her bills addressed issues such as domestic violence, child abuse, child safety, welfare rights, education, and HIV/AIDS.

She always stood up for what she thought was right and fair, a methodology that did not always sit well with the Democratic party bosses.

- So, community sponsored childcare was a very, very important initiative.

A lot of talk, but not too many people were doing anything about it until Senator Lipman came along and was able to get us funding, you know, into our communities.

This was back in the '70s.

And many of those organizations are still going, still providing affordable childcare, and still trying to be of service to our community.

So, Senator Lipman's legacy, you know, goes way back, and it endures, and I'm sure a lot of people may not know her by name, but they know that someone in the state of New Jersey did something that really made a difference, you know, in their community.

One of the most exciting things that happened while we were back and forth trying to get this daycare funding, Senator Lipman, I was on this little advisory committee that the bureaucrats had put together for us to talk about social services.

And so one day I went to the meeting, downtown Newark here somewhere, and the guy there says, "Well, we've had a shortfall in our agency and we have to cut the budget for community childcare."

And I said, "What?"

He says, "Yeah, we're gonna have to cut it.

$10 million we're gonna have to take out of the community childcare so we can, you know, keep our budget going with the state agency."

I was in shock.

I couldn't believe that they could do that.

So, I went home and I thought about it for a few minutes, and then I called Senator Lipman, and I said, "Senator, this is what"... DYFS it was called in those days, Division of Youth and Family Services.

"This is what DYFS is planning to do, they're planning to cut our program.

This is gonna close a lot of daycare centers all over the state if they cut $10 million, you know, out of our budget."

So she says, "Well, let me think about it."

She says, "I'll think about it."

Next day, there was a hearing in Trenton, so a few of us went down to the hearing, budget hearing.

And Senator Lipman introduced a res... She was on the budget committee.

She introduced a resolution, cutting $10 million from the state agency, and put it into childcare.

We were shocked.

We could not believe that she... And her committee went right along with it.

They didn't put up any argument.

So, we got our $10 million back.

But we were just flabbergasted, because we thought maybe we'd get a little bit back, but we didn't think we'd get all of the money back for the whole childcare community throughout the state.

But that's the kind of thing that Senator Lipman was doing, you know, for people.

- Her policy agenda laid the groundwork for so many things that we're doing today in domestic violence in particular, probably a subject matter that people didn't even wanna address or lean into.

She led the foray with two tremendous assets, still, I believe, is the groundwork for a lot of bills that we've proposed for future generations to protect victims of domestic violence.

Her work in the fields of women and children specifically, something that I've dedicated myself to as the chair of the Education Committee for over a decade, and her understanding and recognizing that educational opportunities really becomes that turnkey variable to change the trajectory of someone's life.

You know, working with law and public safety to protect children who are vulnerable in spaces of abuse, the list goes on and on.

But the agenda wasn't won solely for that timeframe, it was an agenda that was invested in human capital.

And when there's a public servant who does that, their breadth of work is forever legacy long term, because it's not a one hit wonder.

- [Narrator] Outwardly, Lipman was smiling and gracious, the epitome of the Southern belle.

Inwardly, she was a pit bull, fiercely protective of her turf.

The paradox won her the nickname, the Steel Magnolia.

(gentle music) - So Senator Lipman would have a different conversation with her legislative aides or her daughter or her niece than she would have publicly.

She wore her pain, her challenges, with such dignity.

When she first got to the legislature and they didn't have a restroom for women.

And she would tell it with that special kind of, I call it Southern charm, where she would let people know how she really felt, but she would do it in a way that was not dishonoring the legislature.

But she would let them know it was probably shortsighted on their part to think they didn't need to build a restroom if for nothing more than the female staffers.

So the female staffers had to go around and in the back to use the bathroom.

And she said how inappropriate that was for so many years.

So, she took on the helm of female issues and was glad to do so, and they all appreciated Senator Lipman.

- [Narrator] Lipman's quirky habits, as well as her gender and race, made her an anomaly in the Senate.

Some senators viewed her as spacey.

For years, rumors abounded that she was a heavy drinker.

Her family said she was not.

"Other than wine, I can't ever remember her having a drink," said her niece, Saundra DeGeneste.

Although Lipman proved exceptionally skillful at getting her bills passed both legislative houses and signed into law by governor after governor, she did not win all the battles.

When Lipman introduced a 1996 Senate bill that called for the creation of a needle exchange pilot program to allow syringes to be sold over the counter without a prescription, a furor erupted.

Opposed by Governor Christine Todd Whitman and Senator Ronald Rice, the bill languished in the legislature.

It was known that Wynona wanted to stop the spread of AIDS.

But the bill she proposed was very controversial.

Her needle exchange bill was a constant debate, receiving opposition from fellow legislators and fellow Newarkers, Senator Ron Rice and Assemblyman Willie Brown.

The measure failed.

Senator Lipman was, by all accounts, devastated, a wound that never healed.

- When Senator Lipman was in the Senate, when I came into the Assembly, and our paths crossed by virtue of her reaching out to me, which was a very profound moment for me.

First of all, I was pretty impressed that I got a call from Senator Lipman.

I mean, in my mind, she was pretty much an icon at that point.

And she called, and I could almost hear her voice today.

She had that slight Southern drawl.

And she actually, she called me Honey.

"Honey, I've been looking for somebody to put the needle exchange bill into the Assembly.

Will you do it?"

I'm not even sure I knew at that point exactly what needle exchange was, but I said yes.

Had she asked me to put in a bill that would require jumping off the George Washington Bridge, I would've said yes at that point, 'cause I was so impressed that she called me and that she wanted me to do something.

That's how our paths crossed.

Of course, it took many years before needle exchange was voted as a policy in the state of New Jersey.

And right now, it's being questioned and we're moving a little backwards.

But that probably was, you know, 1993.

It was very early in my career in the legislature.

It shows how ahead of her time she was, because I think it was maybe 10 years, if not longer, before that bill actually became law in New Jersey.

(gentle music) (gentle music continues) - [Narrator] During the last year of her life, Senator Lipman was in and out of University Hospital in Newark.

She knew she was dying, but she was still very funny, making jokes about all the politicians she knew.

Although it was clear to others that she was very sick, she convinced herself that she would go back to Trenton and resume her duties.

Most of all, she wanted to see her needle exchange bill become law.

Senator Lipman took her last trip to Trenton in the spring of 1999, just weeks before she died.

According to Senate colleague, the late Ron Rice, "She was weak, but she was in her glory."

As the first African American woman elected to the Senate, she had made history.

No one could deny that.

In tribute to Lipman's many years of service in the Senate, the entire legislature rose to applaud her that day.

No longer was she Mrs. Lipman.

At that point in time, on that day, at that moment, after 27 years of service to the people of Newark and her adopted state of New Jersey, she was Senator Wynona Lipman.

Lipman died on May 9th, 1999.

To the very end of her life, she was still helping people.

Through the years, Senator Lipman was lovingly remembered by her friends and colleagues.

In October, 2000, the Wynona Lipman Child Advocacy Center was dedicated in her memory at Children's Hospital of New Jersey at Newark Beth Israel Medical Center.

Now located in a state-of-the-art facility, the center is now called Wynona's House, located at 185 Washington Street in downtown Newark.

- She was always fighting for children, she was always fighting for women, always fighting for those amongst us who couldn't fight for ourselves.

We celebrated 20 years in 2019, and none of this would've been possible without her support.

We have helped thousands of children and families see the light at the end of a very dark and oftentimes depressing tunnel.

And that, too, Senator Lipman knew.

She knew with the right support, there would always be hope, she knew with the right support, there would always be an opportunity to heal, and she knew with the right support, people can achieve justice.

We will always be grateful for Senator Lipman, and let her legacy be a lesson to all of us.

Use your power, use your platform to support those amongst us who can't fight for themselves.

Thank you.

- We are the Child Advocacy Center serving Essex County.

The Child Advocacy Center movement is one that started back in 1985, and it's one that really started to collaborate and bring together all first responders who would work on any disclosure of child abuse and neglect.

Prior to 1985, what we saw was most of first responders, whether it's law enforcement, whether it's child protection, whether it is the medical or advocacy work within a community, when they responded to child abuse and neglect, they responded in mostly silos.

So a law enforcement person, if they were informed of abuse that occurred in a home, they would go and respond and speak to the family, speak to the child.

Social workers would do it the same way.

And the medical staff, if a child who has been abused needed medical attention and also wanted to disclose, they would go to the hospital or the ER.

Those disclosures, those conversations happened in silos, Without that kind of coordination.

What we found is that there was this, really, repetition of the trauma that the child endured and experienced over and over again.

What we realized, and I think our community realized, we were really re-traumatizing the child by the very system that was meant to help them.

That needed to change.

There were many stakeholders early on who were really champions and progressive in our state.

That would include Nancy Erika Smith.

That would include Ms. Jeannine LaRue.

That would include those like former prosecutor Barb Lerano, who were forward thinking in regards to saying, "We need to take a look at this movement.

We need to take a look as to whether or not this child abuse, CAC type of approach, is something that would benefit not only our state," but particularly for them, Essex County.

That approach with those, you know, just this group of individuals, and there were others, was reviewed.

They did an extensive research to see, to make the case as to whether or not this movement, whether or not this type of approach, this modality, would be beneficial for Essex County.

And what they found out was not only would it be beneficial, but it was necessary.

And it was because of this conversation that those at the time had with Senator Lipman, and the fact that she was already a champion of children's rights, of women's rights, of those who were disenfranchised, she not only decided, "I wanted to be the voice for this movement and bring it to New Jersey," but she, in her own calm but stern way, made sure that those oftentimes who would not, who would say, "Well, this is something that we can deal tomorrow," she made sure that tomorrow is too late.

Today is when we need to deal with it.

And it was because of her that this concept started to reverberate in the halls of power.

And it was because of her that we were able to get the initial funding to make this center, this collaborative center, this co-located center, which is, quite frankly, the standard for child advocacy centers, a reality in the state of New Jersey.

We are still the only fully co-located child advocacy center with all partners in the same room, in the same space, coordinating, collaborating, speaking, preparing, and supporting our families and children.

And it was because of her that this co-located center is a reality.

She championed our work, she made sure that people understood the importance of this type of approach for our families and children, and she didn't care about the political backlash.

- [Narrator] In 2000, former Congresswoman Shirley Chisholm, the first African American woman to serve in the US House of Representatives, became the first occupant of the Senator Wynona Lipman Chair in Women's Political Leadership at Rutgers University.

The chair is endowed by the Center for American Women and Politics, an arm of the University's Eagleton Institute of Politics.

Since then, such luminaries as former Labor Secretary Alexis Herman, advisor to President Barack Obama, Valerie Jarret, political operative and author, Donna Brazile, journalist and author, April Ryan, and many others, have occupied the chair.

In July, 2001, on the site of the old Columbus Homes projects, the Newark Housing Authority unveiled 51 units of attractive brick-front townhouses, the Wynona Lipman Gardens.

(film reel whirring) - What an exciting day for the groundbreaking of the Essex County Wynona Lipman Family Courts building.

Let's hear it.

(attendees applauding) - Listen, today's a great day.

It's unbelievable.

I wanted people here to see what we're doing here.

Because when people come down here, I want them to feel as proud as I am of what's happening here in Essex County.

The Family Courts, this is what Wynona stood for as far as helping families, especially families that were in trouble.

That's what, you know, her advocacy was about, was helping people, and that's what we wanted to make sure, that we build this and had her name on it.

Because we never, ever want her to be forgotten, because what she's done for here, for us, Newark, and for our people, our young people, speaks for itself.

- At times, she was the only woman in the New Jersey Senate.

She's the first African American woman elected in the Senate.

They didn't even have a restroom for her.

When she had to go to the restroom, state troopers had to stand outside the men's rooms.

"All right, Senator, you can go in now.

We'll time and see how long."

I mean, she was the only woman of color, and often the only woman in the Senate, who talked about affirmative action, who talked about the elderly, who talked about children, who talked about AIDS.

What you do for the least of my people, you do for me.

She was the person who was representing people.

She could never say no to people.

Any time you ask her a problem, an issue, "Yes, I'll study it, I'll work on it, I'll look into it."

She was a role model.

- She didn't have to say anything, but she was there to lend her support by her presence, that, "Indeed, I too am in this fight with you."

It'll be a major, you know, legacy, you know, to the work that she did within the city of Newark.

And even now, we talk about, you know, 2023, and not just too long ago, you talk to a lot of people who say, "Senator Lipman?"

They don't know who Senator Lipman is.

And a lot of legislation that she put forth.

And if I recall, she may have been the first, you know, Black female senator, you know, in the state of New Jersey.

- I believe all Black history is really our country history.

And our young people do not know it.

They do not get taught it in school.

And if they don't go to a HBCU, they really don't even get taught our history in the colleges that they go to.

And you'd be surprised how many people I come in contact with and mention something, and they say, "Well," and I'm saying, "You're young, you never heard of so and so?"

They really don't know.

And you have to realize that our young people often have very young parents who also were not taught.

So, we really and truly need to do all that we can to get the Black history into the community, into our schools, in any way that we can, so that our children can really realize they are somebody, and they've done a lot to build this country.

- Well, I mean, when you kind of, you know, step back and look at, you know, the big picture, first, I think about the words role model in terms of trying to get more women involved in the political process, and especially women of color.

I mean, she was kind of the standard bearer for that.

You know, she definitely motivated countless women to get involved in the Newark municipal government, in the county government, and then of course, in other parts of the state, people who had an opportunity to serve in the Senate or the Assembly.

I mean, she was like a...

Trying to capture the right word, would be kind of a Renaissance woman.

- Even if she was debating a pretty passionate issue, she did it, and she always did it with intelligence, she always was prepared, and she knew what her goals were.

This is what I think we need to instill more in our next generations of leadership.

I very often have young people come and say, "I wanna be in politics," or, "I wanna be in office."

And I try to correct them and say, "Being in office is not a goal."

What the goal is, I want to do, what?

You know, fill in the blank.

What is it I'm passionate about?

Why do I wanna be in office?

To accomplish what?

(chuckles) And she always knew what the road was, what the goal was, and it was always, always, everything that I knew about her, knew about her legislative career, was always to make the world and our state a little bit better.

- I just admired her, and I just wish that I had known about her accomplishments before I moved to New Jersey as a child.

I don't know, maybe my life would've taken a different path.

But I ended up an educator like everybody else, you know, in my family.

I'm just very proud of her and hope that young Black female politicians will learn, you know, history about her, and this will teach them lessons, and they can really learn and move forward from the path that she has created for them.

- I feel very fortunate to have her as my mother.

Very fortunate.

The way that she treated people, the laws that she passed, and the things that she did in the Senate, but also just as a person, to be able to know her as a person, I feel fortunate.

I always did, even from when I was little.

I always felt fortunate to have her as my mother.

- [Sheila] I too am one of those persons that directly benefited from her wisdom and her guidance, and just her support, going back to when I was in my 20s.

But I will tell you, all the time I've been in Trenton, in both the legislature, and now working in the administration, I talk about Wynona often.

I share with people the work she has done and the legislation she has done.

But I also remind people that when she became our first Black state senator, she wasn't given a desk on the floor of the Senate Chamber, and she wasn't provided with, you know, a bathroom.

And when she asked the Senate president then about accommodations, he said to her, "Maybe if we get more women in the Senate, we'll consider a bathroom for women."

And no, people do not know what Wynona went through.

She was masterful at creating legislation.

She was masterful in getting legislation navigated through what was sometimes a hostile, you know, democratic caucus environment.

I too talk a lot about those who have gone too soon and those that influenced me.

There is no doubt that that generation of leaders in Newark contributed to what I've been able to do during the course of my professional career.

(gentle music) (gentle music continues) (gentle music) (gentle music continues) (gentle music continues) (gentle music continues) (gentle music continues) (gentle music continues) (gentle music continues) (gentle music continues) (gentle music continues) (gentle music continues) (gentle music continues) (gentle music continues) (gentle music continues) (gentle music continues) (gentle music continues) ("Show More Love") ("Show More Love" continues) ♪ So much jealousy ♪ ♪ War and poverty ♪ ♪ Folks don't know which way to turn ♪ ♪ But if we kneel and pray ♪ ♪ Show more love today ♪ ♪ The world would be a better place ♪ ♪ The world would be a better place ♪ ♪ The world would be a better place for you and me ♪ ♪ If we lend our hand ♪ ♪ Learn to take a stand ♪ ♪ Help someone who needs a friend ♪ ♪ Forget about ourselves ♪ ♪ Help somebody else ♪ ♪ The world would be a better place ♪ ♪ The world would be a better place ♪ ♪ The world would be a better place for you and me ♪ ♪ Show more love ♪ ♪ Show more love ♪ ♪ God said to love one another ♪ (no audio) (no audio) (no audio)