By-Laws

  The MTRA was getting organized.  We put together a membership brochure and were allowed to put them in the transit station, so that riders could pick them up.  There was a form that they could fill out and put them in a locked box at the station.  We also had a board in the transit station to post announcements.  Our goal was to keep the riders informed about changes, because the bus system was a little lax.  We heard from riders that they didn't know what the changes were.  We also asked the riders what changes they wanted, and if there were any complaints about service that we could address.  We got a post office box to facilitate letters sent to us from riders and concerned people.  We also got a bank account.

 We had invited those who had signed up to join the MTRA to a membership meeting to elect officers.  Even though we had gotten around 50 members at that time, only about 10 showed up.  I was elected the President, because no one else wanted to do it.  My friend, Keith, was elected Vice-President.  We also elected a Secretary and Treasurer.  

 Because we were becoming an actual organization, it became necessary to have by-laws.  All the money to run the MTRA was coming out of our own pockets and a few donations, so we could not afford an attorney to draw up the by-laws.  We heard about a program through the University of South Carolina's Law School that helped non-profits.  They only accepted three groups each year.  We were accepted to participate.  

 Keith and I went to the Law School and met the two students who would help us.  Both were second-year law students.  We spent a few months hashing out the by-laws and making them legal under South Carolina law.  It became rather tedious, but we wanted to have them done right.  The Dean of the Law School went over the by-laws to make sure they were accurate.  Our Board got copies of our work to make suggestions where needed.  At the end of working with the Law School, we had what we thought was a good framework for the MTRA.  There were a couple of people on our Board that raised concerns.  They were mad, because they felt left out of the process.  Keith and I explained to them that we had formed an Ad Hoc committee to get this done.  We invited one of the objectors to the Law School, and we met with the students that had helped us.  She appeared to be satisfied with it.  Our Board poured over the wording of each section, and we voted on it.  It was unanimous.  Then, we called a special general meeting of the members of the MTRA to approved the by-laws.  By now, we had about 100 people join.  We sent out invitations via email and snail mail.  The meeting was in the public library downtown on a Saturday afternoon.  About 15 showed up.  The by-laws were presented for a vote.  It passed.  Now, we had a roadmap on how to do things.  Thankfully, I was getting some mental health counseling during this time.  I couldn't have done it without that.

Presser

  I am very proud of my brother.  He has done some amazing things for our state and elsewhere.  Most of the things have been behind the scenes.  John does better, when he doesn't get the credit.  He has been a speechwriter for a Governor and a Senator.  He has run political campaigns.  He was the driving force to get Olympic teams from other countries come to Columbia and train before the 1996 Atlanta Games.  He carried the Olympic torch.  One of the only things he has done out front was when Governor Hodges asked him to be the Director of Parks, Recreation and Tourism for the State of South Carolina.  John was the PRT Director during the 9/11 attacks and had to build back the Tourism industry after that awful day.  He has a passion for sports, especially Golf and Baseball.  He just retired from being the President of the Restaurant and Lodging Association for SC and had to deal with the issues surrounding the pandemic.  John is a problem solver.  

 In our family, John asked us early on to support his work for him to succeed.  His candidates were our candidates.  His passions were our passions.  He was known all over the community for his successes in getting things done.  I had learned a lot from him over the years about working with others in a constructive manner.  You can get a lot more done working with people instead of being angry.  It had taken me a long time to get to that point.  Just ask those folks I went to college with.  Back then, I was vicious.  I didn't care whose toes I stepped on.  I got in trouble for some of it, but it was worth it.  As I matured, I found that wouldn't work in the "real world", so I toned it down while still being persuasive.

 My family name is known by many people.  Some knew my father as a man of faith.  Some knew my uncle in Charleston for being a doctor.  Some knew my uncle in Greenwood for being the founder of The Museum.  Some recognized the street name next to Lander University.  Some knew my brother from his work.  Some knew me from my acting and retail work.  The Durst name was known.  My father used to tell me:  "Don't forget who you are."  He was talking about my last name.  Early in 2013, I went to the SC Secretary of State's office to get an application for non-profit status for the MTRA.  When I walked in the door, the secretary asked my name.  I told her, and her mouth dropped open.  She said, "You're a Durst?!!"  I said that I was.  She told me that we were related.  It turned out that she was from Batesburg, where there are a lot of Dursts.  We aren't closely related, but I let her think so.  She rushed through my application, and the MTRA was approved on the spot.

 In the early days of the MTRA, I had a conversation with my brother about what I wanted to do to be an advocate for the bus riders.  At first, he had some misgivings about my participation.  He knew of my history of being a bulldog.  I could alienate people with my rhetoric.  I told him that we were going to have a press conference one afternoon behind the Transit Station.  We had invited local TV stations and print media to come.  Some showed up.  We got on the local news and reported the next day in the paper.  When my brother saw the coverage, he gave me his blessing and a word of advice.  "Stay positive".  By being positive about issues, rather than negative, people will listen.  I listened.

MTRA

  After the passage of the penny tax for transportation in Richland County, the Progressive Network thought it would be a good idea to form a grassroots group representing the bus riders in the Columbia metropolitan area.  We met to form what would be called the Midlands Transit Riders Association.  The core group consisted of one person gifted in public relations; one person who could represent the disabled community; one person who had experience in mobilizing people; and me.  I was named the interim president of the group.  I knew I needed someone who knew people on the city and county councils, so I asked a friend from the Andre Bauer campaign if he would be interested in joining our group.  He said yes.

 I attended a couple of board meetings of the bus service and found that they were more interested in getting money for the system than the riders.  I asked to speak at one of their meetings and introduced myself as the president of the MTRA.  I explained to them what we wanted to do, and they were interested.  One of the board members thought it would be a good idea to include us to give a report each month in their board meetings, and to give us a non-voting seat on the Service Standards Committee where operation proposals would be hashed out before taking them to the Board to be voted on.  One of the Board's members ran into my friend at a newspaper office.  My friend was black, as was this Board member.  He told my friend that he didn't like a "silver-spoon white boy" representing bus riders, since the majority of riders were black.  He also called my friend an "Uncle Tom" for working with me.  When my friend told me that, I had to go home and research what "silver-spoon white boy" meant.  I was horrified.  I made it clear to all of the Board members, without singling him out, that I was chosen to lead the MTRA because of my talents, and because I had lived in Columbia most of my life and knew the needs of the community.  

 The first order of business was to get Sunday bus service back.  It had been cut out before the passage of the penny tax to save money.  I went to the Executive Director of the bus service and told him that we wanted Sundays back.  He asked why?  I told him that I knew of some women who had lost their jobs at hotels in Columbia, because they couldn't get to work on Sundays.  I also said that I wanted to get back to church.  Thanks to the TV ministry, I could watch my church on Sundays.  However, there were many people who didn't have that luxury.  His response to me was that there is a church within walking distance of everybody in Columbia.  I suppose that is true, but it wasn't my church which was nine miles from where I lived.  I put together a coalition of church and business leaders to lobby the bus service for Sundays. We also went to a neighborhood gathering in North Columbia and asked people what they wanted the bus service to do.  The overwhelming majority of people said Sundays.   It worked.  We got Sundays back.

 One of the advantages we had with the MTRA was that the Executive Director and the Route Planner did not know about Columbia.  One had come from Knoxville and the other from Tallahassee, so they were not familiar with the area.  That helped out a great deal, as we began to formulate a list of wants.

Chance

  It was the Fall of 2012.  There was going to be an election that year for a lot of things, but one in particular interested me.  It was the vote on a penny increase on the sales tax in Richland County.  It had failed in 2010, and it was on the ballot again.  The penny would go to improve roads, public transit, and bikeways in Richland County.  I had heard that there was going to be a voter registration table at the Transit Station in downtown Columbia, and I felt that I needed to help.

 I got down there and found an old friend from my anti-war days.  It was Brett Bursey.  He was in charge of a group called the Progressive Network, and they wanted the penny tax to pass.  Brett had been very active in the anti-war movement during the Vietnam era.  He had a group of people going around the station to sign up people to vote.  We started talking about the old days, and he said that he wanted to start a group of activists to represent the bus riders in Columbia.  I told him that I was interested in that project.  He said that there was no one on the Central Midlands Transit Authority Board of Directors who rode the bus, and he felt that a grassroots group could affect the needs of the riders.  It sounded like a good idea.

 We worked that afternoon and got a lot of people registered to vote.  We explained the need for a penny increase for the good of all.  I had planned to just be down there for an hour.  I spent all afternoon talking to people and getting a sense of why they rode the bus.  Most didn't have a car, like me, and some only had one car in their family.  I remembered what I heard God say to me three years before, as I was in the midst of killing myself.  He said, "Stop!  I have more for you to do."  I now knew what He meant.  He and I were going to work to get the bus system in Columbia to a better level of service.  At that moment, I didn't know how we were going to do it.  But on the way home from the Transit Station, I talked to God and asked Him to show me what I could do.  I saw the need.  I had been seeing the need, while I was homeless.  I realized that He had been preparing me for this moment.  I could use my skill sets of public speaking; knowing people in the community who could help; and being able to speak the language of the politician.  I knew about cause and effect.  I knew what I had to do.

Mitt

  As I have said many times, I am a political junkie.  I just like politics.  It was instilled in me at an early age by my Mother, ever since she almost fainted meeting Barry Goldwater outside an elevator in the U. S. Capitol.  So, there was an opportunity to see Mitt Romney in 2012 as he visited Columbia.  

 He was running for President, and as most of you know that I have seen every President in my lifetime, except for Kennedy, so I like to hedge my bets just in case a candidate might win.  Governor Nikki Haley was hosting an event for Romney, and I signed up to go.  She was endorsing him for President.  The event place was pretty small.  There was enough room for the media's TV cameras and around 100 people jammed together.  As a side note, I saw Peter Alexander of NBC News there.  He was following the Romney campaign.  Little did any of us know that he would go on to bigger things at NBC.  

 A guy next to me in the crowd asked me what I did for a living.  I told him that I sold some stuff on the internet, but that was all.  His face brightened up.  He told me he was from Sumter and had a bunch of old TV tubes in their original boxes, and they were in the trunk of his car.  He wanted to sell them to me.  I wasn't interested.  For one thing, very few televisions still had tubes.  I also had no idea what they would be worth.  I suggested he take them to a local TV repair shop.  They would probably love to get them.  He was disappointed.

 Another side note about Nikki Haley:  I first met her in 2009, when she was running for Governor.  No one took her seriously.  She ended up winning the race.  I had done a lot of opposition research on her.  She was not one of my favorite people.  I made a lot of comments on social media attacking her.  Many people loved her (and still do).  From what I learned about her, it was easy to not like her.  I can't write here about her, but if she runs for President in 2024, some of that stuff might come out.  No threats.  When she endorsed Mitt Romney, it was obvious that she didn't really like some of his positions.  She was just ambitious for better things than Governor.  That would show up four years later.  On a funny note, I was walking to church early one morning and ran into her husband jogging down Sumter Street.  I greeted him warmly and asked him if his wife had let him out of the Governor's Mansion to jog.  He laughed and said yes.  I like Michael. 

 So, back to the Mitt Romney event.  I was standing between the stage and the TV cameras, smackdab center, about 10 feet from the stage.  Nikki was all smiles.  The crowd cheered, when Mitt took the stage.  Nikki's eyes scanned the crowd, and then her eyes locked.  Her smile went to a frown in a heartbeat.  She just stared at me.  I smiled at her.  And, then she looked away from me and smiled again.  We had a moment.  Mitt went on to lose the election to Obama.  I saw the President a few years later, but that's another story for another time.  I admire Mitt Romney.  I wish more in the Republican party would do so, too.  He is a good man.  He is a principled man.  I think he would have made a good President, if the party would have let him be himself.  

Options

  My brother invited me to go to lunch with him in February, 2012.  After eating, he said that he wanted to introduce me to a woman who knew a lot about finances and budgeting.  Since I was only getting $90/month from my Belk pension, things were very tight.  He took me to her office on Rosewood.  It was in a building called MIRCI, which stood for Mental Illness Recovery Center Inc.  We walked in, and I spoke to her about my situation.  She suggested I speak to someone else, as I was dealing with trying to find another place to live.  This person was the housing coordinator.  She explained that the majority of people in the program had some form of mental illness.  She suggested that I talk with the doctor on duty.

 I told the doctor about my severe depression and anxiety.  About the last time I tried to kill myself in 2009.  About the worry of losing my apartment.  He listened to me, and then asked me to wait outside of his office.  The housing coordinator talked with the doctor, and they felt that I was a candidate for MIRCI and housing.  This was definitely an answer to prayer.  She told me that there was an opening at one of their properties called Dena Bank off Broad River Road.  When I got back home, I got a call from the Columbia Housing Authority saying that there was an opening for an apartment at Carriage House off of Broad River Road.  I felt that I needed to check out these places before making a decision.

 I took the bus out to the nearest stop.  It was four blocks down a hill to Dena Bank.  As luck would have it, Carriage House was right across the street.  I walked into the Dena Bank parking lot and saw the apartment that they were offering me.  The blinds were open, so I looked in to see an empty apartment.  It looked nice.  A man walked up to me and asked if he could help me.  He introduced himself as Greg.  I told him that I was thinking about moving in, but I needed to get some details about the place.  We sat and talked for about 20 minutes.  Greg had been a semi-professional baseball player who suffered with seizures.  He told me that the apartments were nice, and most of the people were easy to get along with.  There were 16 one-bedroom apartments in the complex.  It was owned by MIRCI and subsidized by HUD.  I told him that I had been offered a place at Carriage House, too.  He told me not to take it, because there was a lot of crime over there.  Our place was safer.  It was also in a good location being near drug stores and a grocery store.  An antique mall was up the street.  And, a library was nearby.  Greg convinced me that Dena Bank was the best spot for me.

 I went back to USC Supportive Housing and told them of my decision about going with MIRCI.  It would take until May 1st before everything was done for me to move into my new apartment.  Columbia Housing moved my stuff from Fairfield Road over to my new digs.  I left a couple of things there, including a large round table and chairs.  During the move across town, they broke a lamp.  Oh well.  Everything else got there in one piece.  I was in a van driven by the Housing Authority head.  When we got to Dena Bank, there were two sheriff's deputies talking in their cars at the entrance to the parking lot.  The Housing lady asked me if I was sure I wanted to move here, and I said yes.  And, one thing that the MIRCI housing coordinator told me was that I could live here the rest of my life, if I wanted to.  Finally, I had a safe place that was mine.  No more worrying about being homeless again.  No more worrying about living in a storage unit.  At last...

Grant

  I was called into the office of the USC Supportive Housing in January 2012 and got some distressing news.  The grant that was paying for my housing at Villa Hermosa was expiring in April.  What did that mean?  I would be losing my apartment and would have to move out.  They assured me that I would not be going back out on the street.  They told me that they would find another place for me to stay through the Columbia Housing Authority.  It seemed the grant was for only two years.  That was strange, because I knew people in the program who had lived in their place longer than two years.  

 Being on the street gave me trust issues.  I couldn't trust many people.  After all, I trusted a guy that told me I could move into a house behind Whaley Street.  That offer fell through.  I trusted the hospital to provide a warm place for me.  They kicked me out.  And now, I had trusted that I had a place of my own, and it was going away.  I kept my post office box just in case I had nowhere to go.  Good call, Walter.

 I put in my application at the Columbia Housing Authority.  There was a long waiting list, although I was told that I would be put near the top of the list, since I was in a housing program.  That was some consolation.  I just couldn't tell anybody.  No sense for more jealousy like I got getting off of the street.  This was an emergency.  And, the "little white boy" wouldn't be around anymore.  I was told of some properties that were about to be open.  I did crime report checks and then would turn down the offers.  My neighborhood was no bed of roses, but the places offered were worse.  I seriously didn't want to live in a place where the police didn't like to visit.  I did start to box up my belongings, because I might get a safe place, or I would have to get another storage locker and move all my stuff back in there.  I had a homeless friend who lived in his storage locker.  I could see me doing that too.