The trio of deaths we noted here last week continue
to trigger a number of thoughts. Unsurprisingly, most of the media coverage has centered on Steve Jobs, a contemporary whose impact was obvious and whose accomplishments were tangible: millions of us are daily users of the
products he envisioned and developed.
Still, for other millions, the accelerating passage of
senior civil rights leaders is cause for pause on how American public and private
lives were changed by the service and sacrifice those leaders rendered our nation.
It’s not important to compare whose impact mattered more.
But last week’s passing of Rev. Fred Shuttlesworth and attorney Derrick Bell does underscore two
separate but related topics that have been on the northeast Ohio horizon this
month: civil rights and black leadership.
Two days ago, Plain
Dealer columnist Brent Larkin penned one of his patented “insider” columns
purporting to show that a trio of old black men — Lou Stokes, George Forbes,
and Arnold Pinkney — still run black politics in Cleveland.
The piece repulsed the senses on so many levels that it is
difficult to know how to begin to dismantle its nasty influence. Larkin argued
that the men who were the go-to guys in the black political community forty
years ago are still the same go-to guys today. But the column omitted salient details and provided no context to those who don't have a thorough understanding of Cleveland political history.
It is misleading to write about Cleveland’s black community
and its alleged rigid and unyielding political structure without ever noting
their place in the larger community’s hierarchical rigidity. The history of
twentieth century Cleveland is the history of a top-down community run by an
interlocking directorate of corporate bosses and white-shoe lawyers who worked
hand-in-glove with whatever ethnic politicians happened to be in charge. Then
and now, a principal responsibility of the Plain
Dealer was to support this closed circle of dominance and control.
Column Intermission: A few years ago I attended an annual
meeting of The Roundtable, one of a string of establishment organizations
ostensibly designed to promote noteworthy civic objectives like economic
inclusion, corporate diversity and the like. [1] On
stage were three key figures: Danny Williams, the group’s president; Jane
Campbell, the city’s mayor, and uber-lawyer and grey eminence Dick Pogue. The
mayor had just cracked one of her characteristically bad jokes, attempting to
make light of Pogue’s longevity at the seat of power; when Pogue ad-libbed aloud
to the effect that he was still running the show, Campbell quickly beat a
sheepish retreat. In Cleveland, the dominance of commercial interests over public welfare has been virtually unending.
But this is America, so when color enters the picture, stuff
happens. People lose their critical faculties. They pontificate about politics
in the black community as if all black folks were still stuffed in eastside
ghettos. They make no mention of the fact that there are more than 80 elected
black officials in Greater Cleveland, most of whom live outside the city limits
where new and in some cases more sophisticated manifestations of black power
are developing. Most of these 80 elected officials seldom if ever consult with
Stokes, Forbes or Pinkney.
The day is long gone when a small group of black politicians
could say they spoke for the black community. In fact, it is debatable whether
a solidly black electorate even exists, and whether that is a good or bad thing
either way. But that’s grist for another mill.
Consider this about current black leadership: the black
political establishment did march almost in lockstep in opposition to Issue 6
in 2009. Their counsel was overwhelmingly rejected in every ward and
jurisdiction with one exception: Ward 1, the political base of state senator
Nina Turner. She was a flag-bearer for Issue 6. But Issue 6 lost in Ward 1.
This means that black leadership counsel was universally rejected on the most
important local issue in 40 years.
That Stokes, Forbes and Pinkney remain active so active in
local political discussion is largely due to indolence, inertia, and lack of
imagination. Pundits such as Larkin, public officials like Speaker Batchelder
call upon Forbes and Pinkney because they always have. Their primary concern is
to not be accused of failing to check in with the black community. Forbes and Pinkney profit from the fiction of their
continued political ascendancy.
The world has changed. The county has changed. The black
community, however defined, has changed. The model of black political
leadership that the Plain Dealer and perpetuates
is obsolete and does a disservice to us all. It has been withering for decades. Tomorrow I
will describe its disintegration.
• • •
[1] A
predecessor group was called BICCA
[Businessmen’s Interracial Committee on Community Affairs]; the current
incarnation is the Commission on Economic Inclusion housed at the Greater
Cleveland Partnership.
3 comments:
I'm glad to see you finally get around to this! I look forward to the other parts. As for Issue 6 though, pretty much everyone, black & white, was snookered by that which you correctly identified as a mouthpiece for the corporate community, the Plain Dealer. It probably did the worst job it has ever done of honestly presenting issues to readers and instead worked overtime to gin up cynicism, much of it unwarranted, and to mislead readers.
Anastasia
Thank you, thank you and thank you! Keep writing.
David Gilliham
Anastasia,
I appreciate your comments. Yes, the Plain Dealer in its coverage of the issue was devoid any semblance of fairness. That is a lesson/warning for the future. Issue 6 was defective, Issue 5 had its shortcomings as well. At day's end we have a better form of government. We went from 3 commissioners to one executive and got rid of an obsolete structure. I wish we could do the same for the overabundance of political units we still retain.
@ David: Thank you! A concerned readership is oxygen to a writer.
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