The police killings of Deborah Danner, Kawaski Trawick, and Win Rozario—all New Yorkers in mental distress who were gunned down by NYPD officers in their homes—inevitably bring to mind Eleanor Bumpurs, the 66-year-old Black grandmother with a history of mental illness who was shot and killed on October 29, 1984, by NYPD officer Stephen Sullivan as she was being evicted from her NYCHA apartment in the Bronx.
At the time of Bumpurs's killing, LaShawn Harris was a 10-year-old who lived across the street from Bumpurs. Now an award-winning historian and a professor at Michigan State University, Harris's latest book, "Tell Her Story: Eleanor Bumpurs & the Police Killing That Galvanized New York City," shares the full story of Bumpurs's life and death, all in the context of 1980s New York City.
As Harris writes, "Eleanor was a victim of expanding police presence and power, as well as municipal neglect. Before an NYPD militarized unit stormed into her one-bedroom apartment on the morning of October 29, 1984, government disinvestment and economic precarity had long been part of her life."
In this excerpt from "Tell Her Story," Harris takes us back to what exactly happened on the day that Bumpurs was killed.
This is an adapted excerpt from "Tell Her Story: Eleanor Bumpurs & the Police Killing That Galvanized New York City" by LaShawn Harris. Copyright 2025. Excerpted with permission by Beacon Press.
Cloudy skies hovered over New Yorkers on Monday morning, October 29, 1984. Local meteorologists predicted occasional showers and a high of 67 degrees. Cooler temperatures provided relief to New Yorkers, given the previous day's unseasonably warm and humid weather of at least 79 degrees. Wearing sweaters and light jackets and coats and carrying their umbrellas, Bronxites traveled around the 174th Street and University Avenue area that morning, hoping to avoid the rush hour.
Eleanor was also starting her Monday. She rose early from bed, preparing perhaps for her daughter Mary Bumpurs's visit. The day before, Mary told her she would stop by the apartment. However the day unfolded, Eleanor hoped it would be an uneventful one.
But it would not be a typical Monday for her. Nor would it be a usual Monday for Sedgwick Houses residents or the City of New York. It would be a Monday that many New Yorkers would not forget, at least not for a while.
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