Released: June 30, 2008

Mortgage meltdown was no accident

Source: Kai Wright, The Nation [Alternet]

George Mitchell’s wife, Lillian, took her last breath in the house she loved, on New Year’s Day 2006. “Right there in that spot,” says George, 77, nodding to the far end of his worn, floral-print couch. “I think the last words she spoke was my name.”

“Yup,” confirms his youngest daughter, Chandra Chavis. “I was trying to perform mouth-to-mouth resuscitation at the time.” She points out the living room window to the small, sloping front yard and drive. “There was no address on the house, so I had to stop doing that to get the ambulance to come in.” But Lillian’s heart had seized, and Chandra knows there’s not much she could have done anyway. She figures if even the trauma team at Atlanta’s century-old public hospital couldn’t revive her mom, she must have been long gone. “Nobody can bring you back if the Lord calls you,” concludes an older daughter, Gwen Russell.

It was Lillian’s tenacity that led the Mitchell family to Atlanta’s Westwood neighborhood, in 1968. “She was determined,” Chandra explains, “not to have her children in an apartment—I know the story; I’ve heard it a million times—so she found somebody, a real estate agent, and they came out and they looked in this neighborhood. I don’t know what brought them to this part of town, ‘cause at the time they were living in Dixon Hills”—then an up-and-coming black neighborhood—“but she decided she wanted a house, and this is where she found it.”

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