BLACK LEADERSHIP IN CENTRAL CITY! ENViRGNfiEI‘i‘F AND RESFQNSE A Disseréahoa for: flue Degree o§ p“. D. MICHEGAN STHE WIVERSITY Dougias i. Hoekstra Z974 -I : ‘293 ' ‘.: w’: c :tc . . «E5 ‘3 3 bflxflhtfin hf '2 Universi‘Y {4 This is to certify that the 3 thesis entitled ' BLACK LEADERSHIP IN CENTRAL CITY: ENVIRONMENTLAND RESPONSE presented by 'DOUGLAS J MHQE-KSTRA has been accepted towards fulfillment of the requirements for Mdegree in 15/11263/ cgbui Major professor ‘ NS ””36 2"“ a «m:- 17 u- a sum: is“ of bLa-f‘i " cvxtieflr ‘~ «at. we)“ .'-" s h- h“ . _ r ”F. aawa coup» LJne" CU' ' ‘ ' - ‘z-‘Lu'as TQCU' .. 7» . . “Max! with 24.-» . x ' ,. 3' zone was “sou 1:0 ‘13 rz-f the :- -‘XS 10 tn. 1"...w33r9‘1‘i .c. WM“ a: and a: - ‘$.“ 1.2..“ ', “" ‘,‘fié - «(MD 'L'fu “as; , - swarms—e y, ' : 24MB,” {“9 emu-mac; TN.- ‘~ 2‘01“" ABSTRACT BLACK LEADERSHIP IN CENTRAL CITY: ' cf 7 ENVIRONMENT AND RESPONSE BY Douglas J. Hoekstra This research is a case study of black leadership _,ng in a medium-sized Midwestern city in which blacks {'fitute a small proportion of the population. Since most 3 ‘5 of black leadership have focused on Southern or large 3'5“}! cities, the research helps to fill a void in the . 1. Leaders were selected by means of wide—ranging infor— . 1 miews coupled with analyses of local issue-areas 'shiggafig—gxyutine" controversy over school busing. Semi- . ed interviews focusing on goal and tactical prefer- l yconducted with each leader. A standardized . e also was used to gather demographic and attif from leaders. Finally, census data were used. Douglas J. Hoekstra : sloped in the recent resurgence of Black Power and bcc nionalist ideologies. The resulting typology of militant ensions on which these leadership types differ: goals, loci of organizational activity and models of group .1 m. high income and educational levels, as well as with a "1:3 ' ,Iével 0£ reported contact with white leaders. Differ- ‘tia l. preferences had a structuring effect on leadership "7 by leading to differing perceptions of the "cues" tn! p‘pommunication. These tendencies also helped to .tdf the stability of local issue-areas over time. Douglas J. Hoekstra moderates; occupational roles rather than the organization of followings in the subcommunity proved to be the most frequent bases for leadership activities; local black organ- izations were not generally rooted in or sustained by the resources of the black subcommunity; and leaders and organ- izations in conflict situations generally sought to gain access to policy-makers rather than to mobilize the black subcommunity itself. These patterns were explicable only through an exam- ination of the local political environment for black leaders. Central City offered to potential black leaders a subcommu- nity of limited resources: its numbers were small, economic resources limited and it also lacked the network of suppor- ive institutions and organizations found in many larger Cities. However, the local structure of opportunities out— side the subcommunity made available new occupational and organizational roles which became the bases for leadership activities. As well as being consistent with the career and income aspirations of an upwardly mobile leadership elite, these positions frequently provided access to policy- making processes relevant to the interests of the subcommu- nity. . 6 n HI”, However, these opportunities also tended to reduce ‘Past leadership ties to the subcommunity, and to produce 1., Stablems of role strain for individuals experiencing contra- tfifigigtions between their leadership and occupational roles. .‘ lu- Douglas J. Hoekstra Role strain was especially salient for leaders undergoing "militant mobility,‘ a process through which state and pri- vate agencies seeking "representative" black leaders recruited from the small group of local activists who had organized in the black core area--thereby detaching these leaders from their original organizational base. The analysis of the relationship between subcommunity and opportunity structures in the political environments of black leaders is theoretically suggestive for future research. Propositions about these and other leadership patterns in Central City were summarized in the last chapter. BLACK LEADERSHIP IN CENTRAL CITY: ENVIRONMENT AND RESPONSE BY Douglas J. Hoekstra x. t: s (g: A DISSERTATION Submitted to giichigan State University tial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of 1‘ Dacron or PHILOSOPHY uznt of Political Science 1974 . ,GDJJ'JJ A' 18 thunk] .q ’1‘ ~- Spoci ; on, I ' quit-3.5.. J" m vhf: _ -_. .3 Gatfi M, a. 95131 Cvnw 415 {icuunfiand is», ' lToqgllen and my parents. -4" “u DEDICATION : also * ” “Ii! mark - J‘ : I! "he 35;w~~' \v ~ -- indiviaiha‘. ‘ f‘. 4.5- \ .~ $161312 .‘1: Mr." -" 0,: V ” ii“iy interprer",:uc .w an at". . ..- withOL“ thil'. tans 1.1% "R wk Vb \ A, ', .. :éi 31:1 K -. “ {qpfifllfi :5 thank my wife. As always. .‘H. ' - k1? r--; ~$v , ‘5’“; ‘l‘. I . ‘ & Wltandihq, ties! its the 6mm of " A. t. r . '4 . ,1 _ “ Uses , (g l‘ ..' V‘ . -‘-.\. ‘ ihoe«': -.. ~ .. -_ 'A - . _ . '-. . ‘ K, .1. ,vlf‘P-z ’ '. .1'»_ l‘ .‘A; fit; . -r_ .: :_,_ ‘ t r. ,| J .’ ~ 51 .. g '._‘L-w\ . 7 ~ ‘ ; an-“ i“ I5 .' 3 ‘._ >1 ‘. ’_ ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 5-5 {it ”Though it is impossible to name all of the persons js we, contributed to this research, the efforts of some $611313 should be specifically cited. Special thanks go to Dr. Herbert Garfinkel, who has IVM'J'fd'ed guidance and inspiration since my undergraduate and who supervised the writing of this dissertation. ' Dr. Garfinkel accepted a position at another univer— 1,. ;Dr. Paul‘Conn assumed the formal chairmanship, and his ‘. ions ,and insight proved very useful to me. Dr. Alan , was also of great assistance, and continually encour— ha in this work. In sum, my research was greatly ~ . 3 ed by the support and suggestions of my committee. ‘ '3' ‘J xthough my interpretations may not always match d9§§1°35'.7 without them this dissertation would have y,‘.I wish to thank my wife. As always, she Siva and understanding, despite the demands of “flation . TABLE OF CONTENTS Page LISTOFTABLES....................Vii LIST OF FIGURES . . .. . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . X PREFACE . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . . . 1 Chapter I. A REVIEW OF THE LITERATURE . . . . . . . . . . 7 Strategies of Research . . . . . . . . . . . 7 Selected Literature on Subcommunity Leadership Structures . . . . . . . . . . 8 Methodology . . . . . . . . . . 9 Social— Demographic Characteristics . . . . 11 Goals . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13 Leadership Structures . . . . 20 Evaluation of Literature on Subcommunity Leadership Structures . . . . . 27 Black Leadership Typologies . . . . . . . . 30 Daniel C. Thompson: The Biracial Structure . . . . . 32 Killian and Grigg: The Permanency of Protest Leadership . . . . . . . . . . 35 Jack Walker: The Division of Labor . . . . 37 Hines and Pierce: The Cyclical Pattern . . 40 Everett Ladd: Political Style . . . . . . 41 Evaluation of Typological Literature . . . . 44 Negro Politics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47 Goals . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47 Moderate and Militant Leaders . . . . . . 49 Role Strain . . . . . . . . . . . . 54 Leadership Effectiveness . . . . . . . . . 57 Evaluation . . . . . . . . . . . . . » 58 Black Leadership Literature: An Overview . . 61 II. A TYPOLOGY OF LOCAL BLACK LEADERSHIP . . . . . 82 Terms . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 85 Types: Goals . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 89 Means . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 95 Locus of Activity . . . . . . . . . . . . . 98 iv v 11 (<- 'v If “- 1 V 1 .1 "’;8 *Summary: Incentives and Issue-Areas ynlack Identity: Tactic and Symbol . . The Case of John Washington . . . . :Introduction . . . . . . . .7 ‘CA Decade of Desegregation . . . . . . . . = Report and the Reaction . . . . . . . - The Recall Election . . . . . . . . . . afiter the Recall: Victory in the Courts . Models . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Research Methods . . . . . . . . . . . . . "ff: SUBCOMMUNITY CHARACTERISTICS AND LOCAL LEADERSHIP . . . . . . . . . . . . . Black Migration to Central City . . . . . Employment and Income . . . . . . . . . . Education . . . . . . . . . . . . Housing Patterns . . . . . . . . . . . Police and the Subcommunity . . . . Black Politics in Central City . . . Conclusion: Coalition and Infiltration PATTERNS IN LEADERSHIP GOALS . . . . . . . . Goals and Leadership Structure . . . . . . Goal Characteristics: Complexity and Militance . . . . . . . . . . . . . .-. Militance . . . . . . . Conflict and Choice. The Kingsley Facility - Summary: Goals and Leadership Behavior . . ,, it. TACTICS AND ORGANIZATIONS . . . . . . . . . Tactical Differences . . Organizations . . . . . . NAACP . Urban League . . . . Black Ministerial Alliance Model Cities . . . . . . . Malcolm X Institute . . . . . “Militant-Mobility" and Role Strain Jobs and Leadership . . . . . . . . -Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . fBusing and the Politics of Access ._ 1966-67 and 1971-73 . . . . fdership Activities . . . . Page 100 106 122 123 131 143 146 164 170 182 198 199 207 216 223 234 245 245 251 251 254 258 263 267 269 276 279 283 286 294 299 299 299 306 317 332 336 341 MY Chapter Page Variations: Issue-Areas, Organizational Variations and Role Strain . . . . . . . 345 The Subcommunity and Leadership Goals . . . 352 ‘VII. SUMMARY AND CONCLUSIONS . . . . . . . . . . . 370 The Subcommunity and Opportunity Structures: Impacts on Leaders . . . . . 370 Issue-Areas and Organizational Activity . . 377 Leadership Types . . . . . 381 A Review of the Status—We1fare Conf1ict and Leadership Efficacy . . . . . . . . . 383 Future Research . . . . . . . . . . . . . 391 .APPENDICES A. Leadership Questionnaire A . . . . . . . . . 402 B. Leadership Questionnaire B . . . . . . . . . 403 BIBLIOGRAPHY . .. . . . . .. . . . . .. . . . . .. 406 I \ , , vi i . I .1] fii 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. LIST OF TABLES Black Population Growth in Central City: 1850- -1970 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Comparison of Reasons Given for Moving to Central City, by Race . . . . . . . . Residential Mobility for Negro Populations in Central City, Detroit and Flint . . . Comparison of Age-Groupings, U.S. Urban Non-Whites and Central City Non—Whites . . Percentage of Negroes Completing One or More Years of High School, by Migration Status, in Central City, 1955-1960 . . . . . . . . Percentage of Negro Employed Males in White- Collar Occupations by Migration Status, in Central City, 1955- 1960 . . . . . . . . . Distribution of Occupations for Central City Black Males in Labor Force, by Year . . . 1970 Distribution of Occupations for State and City, by Race . . . . . . . . . Source of Income for Male Workers, 16 Years and Over, by Race, 1970 . . . . . . . . . . Source of Income for Black Male Workers, 16 Years and Over, by City, 1970 . . . . . Employment Status: Black Males, 16 Years and Over, by City, 1970 . . . . . . . . . . Employment Status: Central City Males, 16 Years and Over, 1970 . . . . . . . . . . Central City Workers in 1969 by Weeks Worked Median Incomes for Black Families, by City, 1969 C I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I vii Page 124 125 126 127 127 128 130 133 133 135 135 136 138 Page ;"vdekvMedian Incomes in Central City, | v | by Year I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I l 3 8 ' Central City Women in Labor Force with Young Children, by Race, 1970 . . . . . . . . 138 ' mg. Black Women in Labor Force with Young P Children, by City, 1970 . . . . . . . . . . . 139 Median Earnings in 1969 for Civilian Labor juv Force in Selected Occupations . . . . . . . . 141 ,35 . ‘;19: Income Comparisons for Central City and State, 1969 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 141 ,137. ' 320. Educational Comparisons for Central City ‘€.e and State, by Race, 1970 . . . . . . . . . . 144 ”.23. Black Educational Comparisons, by Sex and ' ' City, 1970 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 145 Biacks as Percentages of Central City Elementary and Secondary Schools, 1971 . . . 147 Year Structure Built for Black Homeowners .»_in Central City . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 151 Year Moved into Housing Unit for Blacks in Central City . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 152 Persons per Room as Percentage of Occupied Housing Units in Central City by Race, 1970 I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I 152 .V 05.1.: ,SOCio-Economic Measures for Central City Census Tracts 15, 16 and 18 . . . . . . . . . 160 jabs? Structure Built in Tracts 15,16 and 18 . 160 vigercentage of Black Housing Units Which Are ; aner-Occupied or Renter-Occupied in I ‘4-‘f :Tracts 15' 16 and 18 . C . I O I C C I . I C 161 “I! Viafid Over, by Census Tract, 1970 . . . . . . . 162 i . I I I I I I I I I I I I I I O D 162 Selected Black Precincts, April, 1969 . . 178 viii x“- .K fiteentage of Vote for Negro Councilman Candidate in Black Precincts, April, 1971 . iflbtes for Black Candidate as Percentage of Top Vote-Getter, by Ward and Year . . . . . Percentage of Votes for Low-Income Housing Project, 1970 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Complex Responses by Income Distribution . . Complexity of Responses by Initial :w' Geographic Location . . . . . . . . . . . . Complexity of Responses, by Leadership Type . Complexity of Responses, Government Jobs . . Complexity of Responses, by Educational Level Complexity of Responses by Contacts with p‘White Leaders . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ip. Crain Militancy Scale . . . . . . . . . . . . -:K p. 'g... p. (1' w b O (D U) 0 O H (D m U K U (D SD 0.: (D H m D‘ p. U H K '0 (D m ’10 "2a p 0 0 d p. < (D 2 p... H P- r.- ID 5 O (D U! 0 O H 0 U! U‘ K O p... fl ‘< Téétics Favored by Local Leaders . . . . . . '; ‘;Cantral City School District Ethnic .! .:~ Count--January, 1972 . . . . . . . . . . . h ”‘ntages Received, by School . . . . . . . f ‘v v ‘ "01 Approval, D 1 sapproval n o a o I c o o ‘1 ‘ ix h Page 178 179 179 210 210 211 211 211 212 218 220 220 220 247 315 354 355 356 LIST OF FIGURES Page ‘1 QpTypology of Local Leadership . . . . . . . . . 92 flgLeadership List . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 117 ‘-‘aflapofCoreArea............... 150 . “Flier Distributed During Riot, September, ';:I‘:c .; 1971 I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I 167 31?;grDistribution' of Leadership Types and ; self—Descriptions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 203 an Relevant Sites in Kingsley Controversy . . . . 229 ;;“9 sammary of Organizational Characteristics . . . 270 aOccupational Positions, by Leadership Type . . 290 r f .0“:~Resident1al Location by Leadership Type . . . . 293 Shovels of Leadership Activity on Busing- 1 ,"1 Desegregation Issue . . . . . . . . . . . . . 343 14 _ aible Variations in Political Environments ! mi and Leadership Patterns . . . . . . . . . . . 395 ; i E PREFACE Prefaces of puffery usually make large claims for em ipages which follow, while more modest prefaces push for- 81-. ‘wntheir work as being only possibly of some minor merit. C : :fiters and modesty is a virtue which can be assumed of it graduate students. Thus, it seems most useful in this ‘v fiéce briefly to state the relevance of the research to be This research can easily claim "relevance" as the ’j is used in the current argot: it is an analysis of jimportant to blacks, but also to mass publics and E’Zipntists, finally, this study takes role strain as at! ‘:§roblem for local black leaders who are personally o 33;: 1.- . , totreconc1le their "blackness" with their pre- many national leaders, a politics of racial identity has become paramount. Perhaps more importantly, however, this work is relevant in a number of ways to the past research on patterns of urban black leadership. From Thompson's work in New Orleans to Walker's in Montgomery, much of the research on local-level black leadership has had a distinctly southern accent. The exceptions to this pattern have occurred in cities such as Providence, Los Angeles and Chicago. The following chapters seek to extend this research by develop- ing a typological analysis and case study in a rather differ— ent setting--a medium-sized, midwestern city with a relatively small (9.3%) black population. The argument in the following pages will be that the choices, constraints and resources facing black leaders in this setting differ considerably from those confronting leaders in the more frequently studied larger cities; in the research literature to this point, the consequences of these differences between cities for the range and distribution of black leadership types have not been explored sufficiently--a task also begun in this research. One of the main difficulties underlying past research on local black leadership is that of comparability. Research efforts have followed a familiar pattern-~each researcher has tended to pursue his own independent course, working in vary— ing cities with varying methods and varying concepts. As a result, a serious reader of this research literature is faced with a sometime confusing blur of terms and types-—"militants" ‘ R52tes" and "conservatives" and "tokens," "civil “5fmeaders," "community leaders" and so on; in addition, ‘ghe studies even attempt to account for the differing gn5“0f goals, means and activities in differing cities. ' ';“ suauld be an exaggeration to claim that the research in ,fl&g$e~pages single-handedly "solves" these problems of com— Tiaymability. However, it does seek to accbunt for the strate- ;%Lsgadopted by local leaders working in a political environ- '~ {fit unlike those of the larger cities, and it does entail a ‘fligeater (and-more explicit) effort to develop comparability 7 "din most of the past research on local-level black I “:fers. Hence, the first chapter explores past research “3% Rooms detail not only to describe and discuss findings and 1 111*‘8: but also to locate within it those terms, concepts 'iiéficategories of analysis which also can be used in this ”.reh. In particular, variants of some of James Wilson's 3*‘syare used--which offers some basis of comparison ‘ "‘-[Chicago of 1960.* Hopefully, comparability will be possible in the lgtsnse as well; the typological analysis developed gfiguld be applicable in other cities. Though based ’féfi‘t 1eaders, the resulting typology analyzes a wide g‘leadership types and also (again, unlike most of s O. Wilson, Negro Politics: The Search for {Raw York, 1960). r. . ,,.. h ‘ .{riginating in the complex of integration-coalition, fift-separation issues so salient for urban blacks in "gwfhe first chapter describes and evaluates much of the .gch of the past two decades on local black leadership. ;?E:s;discussion of leadership goals and means and his 8 of "militance" and "moderation" are discussed in “Fill. In addition, the more general literature dealing organizations and group conflict is used in an attempt itpase'pattern out of these discrete efforts in urban ‘ h‘ .1; AbrThe.second chapter develops a typology of local ’.€ ‘Ei leaders. Leaders are differentiated by their goals nfkabtics, the models of action they prefer and the loci r 'ityzfor differing leadership types. The chapter fljfiufishes between militant and moderate leadership and gigs those status goals which are similar in form and 5 authough not in content. Research methods used in 29311ews to analyze the constraints on and opportuni- thfikach leadership in Central City. The context for reerOalition and "infiltration" is clarified ‘féfifixiption of the local environment and comparisons -'*;{ppities with larger black populations. Central ’;suhcommunity is described in terms of its “; migration, employment, income, education, , Id;- politics . .;fi;§fi€hapter IV analyzes the nature of leadership goals. . ‘J, f"the most salient issue for recent black leaders in the é‘the local busing—integration controversy. The case _focuses on the organizational and decision-making :5 up in the last chapter. This chapter summarizes U. «fibpcrtunity structures as a framework for future The work which follows hopefully will contribute to an understanding of the patterns of urban black leadership. In a sense, continued research of this type only confirms the tongue-in-cheek comment of one local leader who, at the end of an interview, commented, "I'm not sure why you guys keep studying black leaders. I guess we just must be interesting." CHAPTER I A REVIEW OF THE LITERATURE ‘ This chapter reviews past research on urban black giééfihip: A review of relevant literature is the tradi- “xficprelude to one's own research, but in this instance .hgiLIEView is also useful in demonstrating the difficul- gai comparability and methodology encountered by other ‘:1 scientists. In addition, the work of James Wilson ‘éiyen particular attention as a "starting point" for ”aSmEnt of the typological analysis of local black leaders ‘-“"1fi the Second chapter. 1 Strategies of Research g? on black leadership in cities. The intention here 2;.1sw representative selections from the literature ‘ghrurban black leadership and then briefly to exam- ‘._ “power structures" and the development Of black leadership typologies. The differences between these strategies are hardly absolute; for example, though Wilson developed a leadership typology, he gave most attention to the structural characteristics of subcommunity leadership, and Burgess, while discussing the black power structure of Durham, developed a typology of leadership styles. The difference between the two strategies of research seems more one of emphasis and initial research focus than of extremely clear—cut distinctions. The first research to be examined centers on subcommunity leadership structures. Selected Literature on Subcommunity Leadership Structures* This work shares two characteristics: first, this body of research was built upon the reputational approach initially used by Hunter in the Negro subcommunity of Regional City; in this research the reputational approach functioned to define, locate and identify black leadership; second, in most cases the structure of political leadership in the subcommunity was assumed to be derived largely from the institutional structure of society. For example, *See Floyd Hunter, Community Power Structure (Chapel Hill, 195319 pp. 114- -150; M; Blaine Burgess, Negro Leader— ship in a Southern City (Chapel Hill, 1960); Ernest A. T. Barth and Baha Abu-Laban, "Power Structure and the Negro Sub—community," American Sociological Review (February, 1959), pp. 69-76; Harold W. Pfautz, "The Power Structure of the Negro Sub—community: A Case Study and a Comparative View," Phylon (Summer, 1962), pp. 156—166; Tilman C. Cothran and William Phillips, Jr., "Negro Leader— ship in a Crisis Situation," Phylon (Summer, 1961), pp. 107— 118. 'success" in Negro business institutions was viewed as gen- erally transferable to a position of political leadership in the subcommunity; thus, "economic dominants" were prepon- derant among black leaders.* In the black leadership literature interesting research has been done by Hunter, Burgess, Earth and Abu—Laban, Pfautz and Cothran and Phillips. Their research centered in Atlanta, Durham, Seattle, Providence and Little Rock, respectively. Although most of the research focused on only one subcommu- nity at a time, the ultimate goal was to further inter- community comparisons and, possibly, theory—building by constructing a typology of differing subcommunity leadership structures.** Methodology Hunter's central (and controversial) contribution to the study of urban leadership was the reputational approach used in his study of Regional City. The heart of this approach, of course, was to locate and to define leaders through a panel of supposedly knowledgeable judges. In the identification of black leaders, Hunter used seven Negro judges to select and to rank subcommunity leaders who were then in turn questioned about leadership patterns. These *One of the problems with this assumption has been the comparatively underdeveloped institutional structure of many black subcommunities in the past—-thus forcing many black leaders to develop other "bases" for their leadership; see Ladd's "issue leadership," this chapter, p. 42. **See evaluation of this goal, this chapter, p. 27. ‘ 10 interviews revealed a pattern of mutual choice among the leadership elite and a clear differentiation between "organ- izations of top influence"1 and the lower-ranked groups. Though Hunter concluded that there was a "high degree of social organization within the Negro community,"2 he did not consider whether the identifiable structure of leader— ship which he found actually existed or was the product of a methodology which assumed its existence in the first place. Despite the difficulties with the reputational approach, Barth and Abu—Laban in Seattle, Pfautz in Provi— dence and Cothran-Phillips in Little Rock replicated Hunter's Inethodology. Barth—Abu—Laban, for example, used a panel of black respondents supposedly "representative of the various institutional areas of the subcommunity"3 and finally "found" a clique of "the top ranking seven leaders."4 Pfautz's rationale for use of the reputational approach was that "in View of the small size of the Negro sub-community"5 all of the leaders would be well known and known to each other.* Cothran and Phillips, however, were fairly explicit about the possible limits of the reputational approach: Analytically, two elements essential to the legitima- tion of leadership are stressed: first, the degree to which the individual is known; and second, the degree to which the relevant role and status (power) of the individual are known. The research of Elaine Burgess in Durham marked an effort to overcome sole reliance on the promience—notoriety *For evaluation of this position, see this chapter, 28. ll He the definition of leadership. Indeed, of the ,éhosen by three groups: the usual panel, interviews In addition, Burgess traced through the activities ‘the l’power nominees" in differing issue areas. She found figfixriking agreement"8 in the identification and ranking of ggigaders by all three groups, and a substantial overlap ;§§§gween the "power nominees" and the leaders active on spe- jwihcdissues. , .fl "t“ "1: ial—Demo- ora-hic TIE-Z?" ;" er stics MT“: flow» 7 Hunter found that the "topmost leadership" of the aIssubcommunity differed somewhat in occupational char- ?ristics from the leadership personnel in the larger i 'ty, where leaders were recruited largely from indus— Im~aglind commerce. Black professionals and a few of the busi— l temploying comparatively large numbers of people ‘§{:L ed the hierarchy of subcommunity leadership. Hunter's ‘A:§;;;:a composite picture of Atlanta black leaders: “he ». fiieaders . . . live apart from their followers,"9 their . .. . ;§e Was 54.3, median age 51, few of the leaders were 'Jut “Mifihe city, most were Protestants, and most belonged ' but also had discussions "which help to clarify S ' A 12 group thinking and provide the basis of group solidarity on major problems or community issues."10 Pfautz also found that Negro leadership in Providence was "essentially a matter of professionals, minor managers and officials, and small businessmen."ll In short, for both Hunter and Pfautz, leadership goals were formulated by a relatively homogeneous group of middle—aged men who had succeeded in a business or profession. However, Barth and Abu—Laban in Seattle found many more women (44%) represented in the leadership ranks, a considerably lower mean age (44.8) and self—employed leaders who supervised far fewer employees than in Atlanta. The differences may be accounted for by Seattle's differing demographic characteristics--higher median incomes, a larger middle class and a smaller population of blacks than in Atlanta. For black leaders in Seattle, organizational activism was the basis for leadership: One major differentiating characteristic of the top seven leaders is the degree to which they participated with others in organizational committee activities. . . . This supports the contention of several of the respon— dents that "the top leaders in the community got there because they were very active in organizational work." The belief was expressed that if such activity ceased the top leadership position would quickly be lost.12 On most demographic variables the leaders in Crescent City (Durham) resembled those in Atlanta.13 Burgess argued that these characteristics of Durham's black leaders showed them to be "most strictly, not people known to be powerful, but people known to have access to sources of power"l4—— igrganizational position, status, wealth, skill.15 In Durham 13 black professionals had "long been part of the power struc- ture," and "capable members of the middle class" could move easily into the relatively fluid leadership structure. Key members of the black middle class--ministers-- seemingly played differing roles in different cities. In Atlanta, ministers "were not considered top leaders in a policy-making sense by those within the leadership group itself. . . ."16 According to leaders interviewed, the professional role of the minister and the maintenance needs of his organization seemed to conflict with a general lead- ership role: "they [only] want to increase the size of their own organizations."17 However, in contrast to Hunter, Tillman and Cothran in Little Rock found ministers to be the largest occupational group among Negro leaders. Arguing that com- parative independence from the white-dominated economic structure freed individuals to be local leaders in the Little Rock integration crisis, the authors found black bus- inessmen, dependent on whites for credit, goods and business permits, to be underrepresented in the local black leadership. sale The references in the community power literature to black leadership goals attempted to distinguish different kinds of goals, to link distinctive goals with specific leadership types, and to demonstrate how the social structure of segregation conditioned the goals selected by black leaders. - The leaders in Atlanta, "while entertaining discus- sion of political matters tend to a conservative approach to 0.. ' ’L‘. V issues.“l8 Their goals fell into the category of "protest 14 within the status quo."19 For example, during Hunter's period of research, the goals publicly articulated were carefully limited to seeking positions within the political parties, placing some policemen on the municipal force, obtaining two new parks and recreational facilities, getting concessions on school building facilities and obtaining an equal pay base for black and white teachers.20 Increased Napx>voting meant most of these goals eventually were achieved. Hunter did not simply ascribe the nature of these limited goals or the style of conservative leadership to the upper status positions occupied by most of these black lead— ers; rather, his emphasis was upon the "structural handicaps" faced by all black leaders. The most obvious structural handicap was the existing pattern of segregation. Because it was "operative in the general community of Regional City, Negro leaders, as well as followers, [had] to adapt them- selves to the situation."21 The goals articulated by the black leadership were a response to this social structure; these goals aimed not as massively overturning the entire structure of segregation, but at obtaining, presumably for the entire black community, specific, tangible, material rewards--jobs, pay increases, parks.* *Hunter seemed to link "conservative"‘black leader— ship to what Wilson called welfare goals. Wilson made a similar linkage between "moderates" and such goals; see this chapter, pp. 47—54. 15 However, the black subcommunity did provide manpower for and require services of the city. Given this situation, many white leaders were understandably interested in the "stability" of the black subcommunity. These circumstances seemed to offer both an opening and a problem for black leaders. On the one hand, they could formulate limited goals in such a way as to "play to" the concern of white leaders: for example, funding was ensured for the building projects of the Community Association when black leaders argued that such projects reduced juvenile delinquency and “quieted unrest" among Negroes. On the other hand, this opening also led to tensions among stated leadership goals: . . . the Negro leaders maintain themselves in semi— , power positions . . . by appealing to the fear of the general community concerning the unrest of their com- } munity, while on the other hand they appeal to their people on the basis that they are actively working out the problems which may be defined as causing the unrest they say they would assuage.22 Only limited goals which did not directly threaten the existing social structure were consistent with subcom- munity leadership ultimately dependent upon and subordinate to the Regional City "leadership elite." For white leaders such goals seemed to permit continuance of the segregated status quo, while black leaders pointed to concessions for L their constituents "and [took] credit for them as real achievements."23 Another less obvious structural handicap arose from role and "philosophical" conflicts within the black subcom— munity itself. As already noted, the role conflicts were 16 linked to the particular maintenance needs of some organi- zations—-such as those headed by ministers and undertakers; these traditional sources of local black leadership were, in Atlanta, so concerned with expanding their own organiza— tions as to be unable to adapt to community-wide leadership roles.24 The "philosophical conflicts" reflected the basic goal choices before the leadership: Tustonservativeleaders are prone to say, “Now is not the time to act." . . . Education . . . and a gradual approach to solving problems appeal to this group. On the other hand, the aggressive leaders are more mili- tant and are unwilling to let much time elapse before seeing progress in meeting their demands. The leadership response was "to mediate between the two groups" as a broker. In order to do this, subcommunity unity-— I'a united stand on common issues"—-increasingly was empha- sized as an end in itself. In sum, the formulation and articulation of the limited leadership goals-—as well as the predominantly conservative type of leadership-—can be viewed as responses to the external constraints of a segregated social structure and the internal constraints of role and goal divisions within the black subcommunity. While the "leaders in Regional City [were] motivated, at least in some measure, to maintain their segregated sub- ? community," the Pacific City leaders studied by Barth— Abu-Laban gave priority to the goal of integration.26 Asked for the major issues in their community, black leaders men- tioned such issues as "minority housing" and general civil A l7 rights legislation most often, while only one isolated reference was made to an issue such as "police brutality." The status goal of integration took precedence: . . . having worked for "liberal legislation," "better education," and "better housing on an open market," Negro leaders prefer not to riskzthese gains by sup- porting segregated institutions. That the goal priorities or the reported weightings given differentissuesmight reflect interests growing out of the particular status positions of black leaders was not con— sidered by Barth and Abu-Laban. Three patterns relevant to leadership goals can be selected out of the research done by Burgess in Durham: } the process of leader-follower interaction, the shift to } desegregation goals and the emerging consensus among most I of the leadership. In Durham group goal formulation arose out of the interaction between leaders and their most "motivated and articulate followers."28 Though the black underclass was generally inarticulate,29 "communication lines [were] open for the more articulate at several levels." Very clearly, both the leaders and their "articulate" followers came mainly from the middle and upper levels of the black strati— fication system in Durham; the goal given priority--desegrega— tion--ref1ected the preoccupations of the black middle and upper classes.30 Though the "power leaders in the forefront of the battle tended to feel that the masses favored an end to segregated patterns," in fact Burgess's class samples ShOWOd that while 79.1% of the upper class favored the a. fi w" 18 desegregation goal and 67.8% of the middle class, only 45.4% of the lower class clearly did so.3l* However, in Durham as in Seattle, the goal of deseg— regation had emerged to take priority over any other:32 I'The struggle against segregation shifted from the narrower confines of the legal arena to the broader sphere of commu- nity organization. All issues now bear on desegregation."33 These new goals, related tactics and leadership styles were a change from the past when black leaders came as "emis- saries seeking such concessions as the white community [might] be willing to grant."34 As part of the new militancy of the drive toward desegregation, negative inducements were used more frequently. For the first time ever in Durham, black leaders withdrew support from all "progressive community projects (such as a six million dollar school bond issue)" as a means of increasing their "bargaining power, and later began mass litigation “to expand the limited integration they had won."35 Burgess linked these goal priorities to shifts in leadership types: . . . within the Negro leadership structure there exists a diversity of race-leader types identifiable by the leader's stand on desegregation . . . the desegregation issue will result in a shift in power from certain types of race leaders to others.36 . . . For many of the older leaders, it was too late to learn the habit of speaking and acting forcefully, but the younger men, whose courage and ambition led them to take such stands, found their positions of power in the Negro community strengthened.37 *Chapter VI, pp. 352-358, discusses the relationship between leadership activities and black opinion in the sub- .chommunity during the Central City busing controversy. x; i e l9 Burgess found some dissension among the black leaders 'over the means of achieving their goals," but, as in Atlanta, the need to present a solid front to white community leaders tended to unite the black leadership. More importantly, because the structure of black leadership was not as closed as in Atlanta, the private bargaining necessary to achieve public consensus among differing leadership types could occur.38 As a result, though there were differences, "there [was] no sharp split between the accommodative and protest leaders."39 For Pfautz, both the occupational roles and the age of black leaders had "social—psychological implications." The former made "not only for a relative lack of power . . . but also a serious gap in available perspectives for formu- lating strategy and tactics in community power struggles";40 the latter posed the problem of political generations41 pos- sibly unable "to deal with the rapidly changing form and content of race relations."42 Thus, differing "social orientations" correlated with age and organizational variables:43 leaders having "integration orientations" had an average age of 43.3 years and were most active in and identified with the more “mili— tant" organization in Providence, the Urban League (l); the “middle-roader leaders" had an average age of 58.5 years and two of them were "the only members of their generation to play active roles in the 'new' Urban League, suggestive of their broker role,"44 and finally, the leaders with a 20 ”segregation orientation" had an average age of 70.2 years and were most active in the locally less militant N.A.A.C.P. In Providence, the rather close numerical divisions among differing leadership types had the effects of giving strength to the "middle-roaders“ and of moderating protest activity.45 Thus, as in Durham and Atlanta, "while [leader— ship] . . . is currently more militant than it has been in the past, it is typically a matter of 'protest within the status guo.”46 'However, with the impact of the school integration crisis in Little Rock, local black leaders began moving away from this limited type of protest. The conflict welded together both the subcommunity and its leaders "in their support of the integration ideal."47 The "absence of overt dissension" and the “unity of purpose among [the] leaders" made desegregation a 'generalized goal' in the Negro com- munity." Adherence to this status goal became the sine gua non of black leadership; issue leadership was converted into general leadershiijIthe subcommunity: It was obvious that the desegregation issue [was] so dominant among the social problems facing the Negro community that most respondents confused general leader- ship within the community with leadership in the deseg- regation crisis. Leadership Structures Hunter and Burgess presented two contrasting models of "closed" and "open" structures of subcommunity leadership; differences occurred in terms of the specific forms the 21 leadership group took, the types of leaders occupying dif— ferent positions and the relationship of subcommunity leaders to community-wide white leadership. For Hunter the structure of leadership within the black subcommunity generally paralleled the white power structure of Regional City.49 The top policy—making group tended toward closure—-for example, almost all the leaders knew each other "well" or "socially"; basic decisions on policy matters were made by these "top leaders"; ministers and civic associations functioned mainly as communications channels "to apprise large numbers of people of these deci- sions."50 The process of decision within the upper group is called "getting it straight," that is, policy is informally cleared between top leaders, and the line is set, before it goes to the underlying mass of people.51 However, the power52 of Negro leaders was severely restricted. The power of decision was limited to their businesses and professions and the organization of services on a subcommunity-wide basis. For larger issues or projects the white leaders had to be appealed to or consulted with; subcommunity leadership was clearly subordinate to the white ‘ leadership elite of Regional City. Indeed, the tensions among the limited goals of black leaders, as discussed earlier, were correlates of this "structural weakness"53 in the black subcommunity: . . . no members of the Negro group are called upon to contribute to top policy-making in the larger commu- nity . . . the sub-community stands alone in its 22 isolation from the sources of ower as no other unit within the metropolitan area. That contact between white and black leaders which did take place was limited to two instances: the contact between the political leaders of both communities (where white leaders had responded to increased black voting) and contacts between white "professional personnel in civic and social work"55 and the top black leaders. These contacts were generally superficial, according to Hunter, because both the white politicians and the professionals were "sub— ordinate to larger powers,‘ and represented only the "under- structure" which implemented but did not initiate the policies of Regional City's leadership elite.56 "The structural rela- tionship to the sources of . . . policy decision must accord— ingly be indirect for most of the top Negro leaders."57 The shared values of segregation also worked to limit even these superficial contacts. The top policy makers in the white community are vigi— lant that the pattern of "fraternization" between the under-structure professionals and sub-community per- sonnel be kept within bounds of the existing mores as interpreted by them. . . . On the basic issues revolv— ing around segregation, the top leaders in the larger community are adamant in maintaining the present align— ment of relationships. "Aggressiveness" or undue "militance" made it diffi- cult for a black leader literally “to deliver the goods" to the black subcommunity. Black leadership had to remain acceptable to whites, but in doing so threatened its base of support in the black subcommunity. 23 . . . the real leaders in the sub—community are not generally known to the top white policy-makers. Only two men who rated high among the leaders in the sub— community were selected by the top white leaders . . . neither of [them] is considered an aggressive leader in his own community. . . . The acceptable leaders in the larger community tend to be less acceptable in the Negro community.59 In contrast, Burgess found Durham's black leadership was "aggressive and informed to the point that it is, as a group, ahead of the masses."60 The structure of leadership varied from that in Atlanta in that it was relatively "open" while Atlanta's was "closed," the dominant leadership type was different and the relationships of black and white lead- ers were considerably different than in Atlanta. Burgess characterized the leadership structure as a "power process . . . [which] is not closed. . . . From the apex of community leadership and organization, specific pol— icies are executed in a radiating process involving the other leaders and associations of the sub-community."61 In con- trast, in Regional City the "understructure" only implemented decisions made by a comparatively closed group of "top leaders." Leadership types were also more differentiated in Durham. While in Atlanta's rigid structure of racial rela- tions the leadership choices were "accommodation" or "pro— test," in Durham Burgess found a range of leadership types which she refers to as "conservatives," "moderates," "lib- erals," and "radicals." Also, whileAtlanta'sleadership was dominated by the "conservatives," Durham's was dominated by H_b1ack "liberals" oriented toward integration goals. 24 The relation of top black leaders to white leaders in the city also was different than the pattern Hunter cites in Atlanta. Many black leaders in Durham did have access to their white counterparts; there was awareness of the leadership structure on both sides; and "communication and interaction channels do operate at more than a superficial level between the two leadership structures."62 In short, "white leaders in Crescent City are more willing to deal with the real Negro leaders."63 This structure of relation- ships permitted the growth of different types of black leadership and a possible division of labor among them——an entirely different situation from that of Atlanta, where only one "type" of black leader was regarded as legitimate by whites. anortunately, the possible reasons for these differences between Atlanta and Durham are not dealt with in the local research. The characteristics of leadership structures varied considerably in the other studies. For example, in contrast to Hunter's research, Barth and Abu-Laban reported finding "no genuine power structure of the type found in Regional City,"54 mainly because* Seattle's black leaders did not occupy high positions in the economic organization or general institutional structure of the city. There were leaders, but they were not decision-makers as Hunter, Earth and Abu- Laban defined the term.65 Since the base for black leadership *The logic is theirs and reflects methodological assumptions. 25 was so tenuous, most of the leaders shared another char- acteristic: . . . each had taken part, at one time or another, in interracial activities in an "equal status" context in which he (or she) acted as a spokesman for the Negro community. Here . . . is a case of "prestige drainage," with the Negro leaders draining prestige from the white leaders with whom they were in contact.66 In contrast to Seattle, Providence respondents had "complete unanimity regarding the top three leaders,"67 an indication of "the clarity with which the power structure of the Negro subcommunity is perceived." At the time of Pfautz's study, the beginnings of a turnover in leadership personnel were visible. The traditional "accommodating" leadership was threatened by the 'integration-oriented" younger lead- ers, and the direct action model of protest was becoming an increasingly obvious alternative for black leaders.68 Unlike the other cities, the leadership schism in Providence had temporarily "weakened [the] ability to present a solid front and successfully to make collective demands on the dominant group."69 However, as previously discussed, in Little Rock the school crisis brought not schism, but the uniting of the subcommunity behind the new leaders. Cothran—Phillips hypothesize that the then-new type of leadership was the product of the crisis. "Ostensibly, situations of racial harmony are conducive to the [accommodating] type of leader- ship. However, in situations of racial crisis, protest NW 26 leadership seems to become dominant."*70 The old leaders, who refrained from overt leadership activities during the school crisis, adjusted to the new protest leadership either by redefining their own role to one of behind-the-scenes- advisor or by trying the techniques and strategy of the pro- test leadership. As in each of these studies, excepting Atlanta, the role of the old "accommodating" Negro leader was rapidly becoming untenable. The newly dominant protest tactics marked a change in the base of black leadership in Little Rock. Where accommodation-leaders had been largely dependent on white 71 the new protest leaders gained prestige through support, support of the black subcommunity and "rejection by a con- siderable part of the white community."72 Interracial leadership contacts reflected the alteration in dominant leadership types: 69% of the black leadership felt that such contacts had decreased.73 Despite the change in leadership in the black sub- community, a pattern of relations between white and black leaders similar to that in Atlanta continued: . . . organizational contacts . . . appeared to be between the secondary white leaders and front-line Negro leaders. . . . Negro leaders have little, if any, contact with the core of the white power struc- ture; and in the absence of this contact, any signifi— cant communication is between top Negro leaders and secondary white leaders.7 *See Hines‘and Pierce's "cyclical pattern,‘ p. 40, and Garfinkel's comments on "critical conditions," p. 59, also this chapter. 27 Evaluation of Literature on Subcommunity Leadership Structures Barth and Abu-Laban state what seems to be the ultimate goal for the foregoing body of research: ' Such case studies offer a valuable, if partial, approach to the comparative study of communities. . . . [They] demonstrate the fruitfulness of attempts to develop a typology of power structures within the framework of comparative community theory. To develop such a typology, however, demands the use of comparable measures, concepts and definitions. While this research does share a focus on the structure of leader- ship in the black subcommunity, as well as methodological variants of the reputational approach, it lacks the compar- ability of terms which would permit any theoretical integra- tion--let alone the construction of a typology of subcommunity power structures. For example, it is not even clear that the kinds of descriptive terms central to most of these analyses-— such as "accommodating“ leadership, "protest" leadership or "moderate" leadership-—are operationally defined in similar ways.76 This failure of comparability is, of course, common 'in the social sciences, but it has two immediate effects on the utility of this research on black leadership: first, one cannot easily account for some of the differences reported here; Why are ministers top leaders in Little Rock, but not in Atlanta? And why are there variations in terms of dominant leadership types and in the form of the leader- ship structures between Durham and Atlanta? Truly, varia- tions in time or setting or tradition may account for some 28 of these differences--but then so might conceptual or defi— nitional differences in the research. Second, lacking a commonality of concepts, the comparability of the "cases" represented on any empirically based typology* is missing; the goal set by Barth and Abu-Laban cannot be reached. Another potential difficulty lies with the reputa- tional approach. From the operational definition of leader— ship in terms of reputation rankings to the assumption that there is an identifiable structure of leadership, the flaws of this particular approach have been much discussed, and L hardly require repetition here.77 Most of the criticism has been directed at the use of the reputational approach i in analyzing "power structures" in entire cities. Where the potential universe of leadership is so large and possibly distant from the observer, a panel of judges-—no matter how "knowledgeable"--may be reporting common assumptions about, rather than observations of city leadership. The context of the research problem changes consid- erably, however, when variants of the reputational approach are used in smaller black subcommunities.** The salience of the racial question for all members of the black commu- 78 nity and the much smaller number of people involved may well reduce the gap between the reputation for and the *See the discussion of categoric typologies, pp. 31—32. **This approach may also offer a practical first step for researchers having the "handicap" of whiteness, and may reduce the danger of selecting leading Negroes, instead of Negro leaders. 29 actual exercise of leadership itself. Indeed, in most of the research cited, consensus of the "top leaders" was very high and, in the instance where Burgess skillfully combined decision-making analysis with the reputational approach, the leaders identified by each method were very similar.79 Though difficulties certainly remain, variants of the repu— tational approach may have their uses for research in the black subcommunity. Some very general patterns do recur in the litera— ture cited, even with the problems of precise comparability already mentioned. In most instances an identifiable black leadership structure was found, all of the leaders were characterized by relatively high socio-economic status within the black subcommunity and most of them faced prob— lems of leadership arising from the pattern of structural subordination and economic-political dependence on whites. Perhaps the most striking pattern is the shift in leadership goals. In this respect, Atlanta probably stands as representative of most of these cities, pre-l954. As we have seen, the Atlanta black leadership of 1953 advanced limited goals; the other leadership studies (which all come at later datesao) reveal shifts toward the goal of racial integration, shifts accompanied by greater use of litigation and direct action tactics. This shift grew out of the Supreme Court decision of 1954 on school desegregation, a decision which altered . the external constraints on black leaders. The decision 3O redefined the environment of racial relations and enormously widened the potential area of conflict; no longer did black leaders have to Operate within the constraints of a segre- gated system, asking only for favors on parks and payrolls; now, with the goal of integration supplied by the Court itself, the leadership could begin to thrust directly against the traditional structure of racial relations. The change in the judicial environment not only supplied the goal-- integration--which characterized the "new" leadership, but also altered the nature of the available means. With the law "on their side," black leaders no longer necessarily bad to ask for favors-~now they could demand changes of the white leadership. In a sense, then, the direction of change was "from the top down." Both the new goals and the new tactics of "protest" leaders were implicit in the Court's decision. Recently again shifts in black leadership goals-- some of them rather dramatic--seem to have taken place, as can be seen in the typology developed in the next chapter. A background to some of these more recent shifts may be supplied by examining another mode of analysis--the develop- ment of specific typologies of urban black leadership. Black Leadership Typologies These typologies represent one of the main method- ological responses to the flux and diversity of urban black leadership; all of them draw upon the tradition of Weber's 31 "ideal types (or what Merton later called paridigms)". According to Weber, the ideal type specifies something "with which the real situation or action is compared and surveyed for the explication of certain of its useful components."81 Weber's original assumption was that the ideal type would be employed not for the study of generic categories, but mainly for the study of individual concrete patterns which are significant in their uniqueness . . . the goal of ideal-type concept construction is always to make clearly explicit not the class or average character but rather the unique individual character of cultural phenomena.82 Weber, then, argued for the formulation of logically possible pure types of "unique individual character"--types which could be used in testing hypotheses. "The comparison of the ideal type and 'the facts'" is a "heuristic device [which] guides the investigation"; if there should be a "divergence from reality" in the type, it still "fulfills its logical purpose" for it acts "as the test of an hypoth— esis."83 Most of the urban leadership research has used the more limited categoric typology, focusing on the types of black leadership which they have found, rather than all those types logically possible.84 According to Blue in his work on patterns of racial stratification, the categoric differs from the ideal typology mainly in that it does not consider all the theoretic possi- bilities of type models but deals with the type models that are constructed from empirical instances of the phenomena.85 32 These typologies thus are based upon the "empirical instances" of black leadership, and provide a means for reducing the complexities of that phenomenon to a more coherent level. McKinney describes this category of typologies as follows: [It] is a purposive, planned selection, abstraction, combination, and accentuation of a set of criteria that have empirical referents, [which serve] . . . as a basis for comparison of empirical cases. . . . [It] has the scientific function of "ordering" the concrete data.86 The categoric typology can be of the polar or con- tinuum types, either contrasting two constructs at the end points of a scale (old vs. new leaders), or placing the types in different positions along some sort of continuum (conservative, moderate, militant). Research representative of the typological approach to black leadership has been done by Hines and Pierce and Montgomery, Killian and Grigg in Tallahassee, Ladd in Winston-Salem and Greenville, Thompson in New Orleans and Walker in Atlanta.* Daniel C. Thompson: The Biracial Structure Thompson's description of the "complementary patterns" of white and black leadership in New Orleans *See Ralph H. Hines and James E. Pierce, "Negro Leadership After the Social Crisis: An Analysis of Leadership Changes in Montgomery, Alabama," Phylon (Spring, 1965) , pp. 162-172; Lewis M. Killian and Charles Grigg, Racial Crisis in America: Leadership in Conflict (Englewood Cliffs, 1964); Everett C. Ladd, Jr., Negro Political Leadership in the South (Ithaca, N.Y., 1966); Daniel C. Thompson, Th2 Negro Legdership Class (Englewood Cliffs, 1963); Jack L. Walker, "The Functions of Disunity: Negro Leadership in a Southern City," Journal of Negro Education (Summer, 1963), pp. 227-236. 33 made clear the structure of relations between the two groups. . . . the patterns of intergroup leadership are deter- mined very largely by the majority group . . . each social type of leader among white men of power will choose a complementary type of Negro leader with whom he is willing to negotiate. Consequently, the achieve- ments of Negro leaders cannot be understood except within the total context of the social reality within which they operate.87 Thompson used three interrelated criteria to identify black leadership types: their differing "conception[s] of the Negro race and race relations,’ their differing atti- tudes toward race and race relations and their actual beha- vior in race relations.88 Each of the black leadership types in Thompson's three-unit typology was paired with the type of white leader with whom he would normally have contact. The "Uncle Toms" were those black leaders who accepted the status assigned them by white supremacists. This leader accepted paternalistic relationships with white leaders as his due. Favors were to be politely requested, not demanded and, when granted, such favors were held up by these leaders as examples of what white authorities had done for Negroes. The "Toms" worked most frequently with those white leaders who "categorically [denied] . . . the "89 and believed in the racial principles of equal citizenship inferiority of blacks. Though the "Toms," as Myrdal earlier recognized, were primarily the instruments of white leader- ship, Thompson pointed out "that they get things done." The "Tom" was allowed to seek certain limited ends--for example, 34 improved working conditions or somewhat higher salaries for Negroes. In exchange, however, the local "Toms" did not encourage the organization of labor unions for blacks or the use of mass protests. By the time of Thompson's research, these leaders were generally discredited in the black sub- community.90 Unlike the "Uncle Toms," the "racial diplomat" did not accept segregation. However, he did recognize "the ways of the South," and worked within them.91 One of his chief roles was "to interpret the peculiar needs of Negroes in terms of general community well-being."92 Thus, such leaders were instrumental in successfully linking black needs to city-wide projects such as the Community Fund agencies. The "diplomat" tended to work with the "white mod- erates." Thompson characterized these moderates as "middle- of-the-roaders," occupying the center between white inte— grationists and segregationists. The moderate was "a kind of eclectic [with] no definite, defensible phi1050phy of race relations."93 The moderates may have found it most congenial to work with the "racial diplomats" because the "diplomats" were "generally middle-class oriented. To [the diplomats], a successful Negro leader is one who possesses all of the traditional middle class traits."94 Therefore, the "diplomats" emphasized planning, organization and even "the scientific approach" in working gradually toward inte- gration. Thompson concluded "that if the actual achievements 35 of Negro leaders in race relations were compared, those of the racial diplomat would rank highest."95 The "race man" was the most "militant" of the black leadership types. He was noted for "his unwillingness to compromise the basic principles of freedom."96 While the "Uncle Toms" accepted the biracial system and the "racial diplomat" worked within it, the "race man" completely rejected segregation--publicly, emphatically, repeatedly. The "race man" worked in tandem with the white "lib— eral." However, only a few white liberals from the "wealthy respected families" were dedicated to the general goals of equal rights and integration of the races; not one of them occupied a political position in the city. According to Thompson, an impasse had developed in New Orleans: though the black community rejected the "Toms" as leaders, white leaders would work with no other "leaders" and "tended to refuse to do business with Negro diplomats and race men."97 Killian and Grigg: The Permanency of Protest Leadership In Racial Crisis in America, Lewis Killian and Charles Grigg give over a chapter to a description of Negro leadership in Tallahassee.* What emerges from their research is a polar typology of "old leaders" and "new leaders." *This seemsaafuller accounting of the research in Tallahassee than a journal article on the same subject: Lewis M. Killian and Charles U. Smith, "Negro Protest Leaders in a Southern Community,“ Social Forces (March, 1960), pp. 253-257. 36 The old leaders resembled Thompson's "Toms" and Myrdal's "accommodating" leaders. They held their positions primarily because they were acceptable to white leaders in the city. They were also acceptable to Tallahassee Negroes "because accommodation was regarded as the most practical and effective mode of adjustment in the existing power sit— uation."98 Killian and Grigg argued that the Court's decision of 1954 changed this "situation" and made possible new forms of leadership. The change in black leadership crystallized during a "crisis in race relations"--the boycotting of Tal- lahassee's segregated buses. The old leaders were replaced by the new leaders, who not only planned, inspired and organ- ized the boycott, but afterwards as well "continued to main- tain their position(s) of leadership."99 Killian and Grigg saw them as the new permanent leaders of the black subcom- munity. This new leadership was "uncompromising in opposi- tion to segregation" and sought gains for blacks through "formal demands and requests, boycotts, lawsuits and voting."100 As in New Orleans, most of the white leaders were unwilling to negotiate with the new black leadership, but the old leaders had lost subcommunity support.101 Killian and Grigg placed the new black leadership in a national context: The "new" leaders are becoming permanent leaders not because of the attractiveness of their personalities or their skill at organizing, but rather because they 37 adhere rigorously to the form of militant leadership which is becoming the trend for Negroes throughout the United States. . . . Most significant for the pros- pects of cooperation and negotiation, however, are the indications that even the protest leader, the "race man," may be under pressure to adopt increasingly extreme modes of militancy.102 Jack Walker: The Division of Labor In his case study of the sit-ins in Atlanta, Walker found a somewhat different pattern than did Killian and Grigg. Indeed, Walker's analysis of the functional relationships among the leaders in his typology also called into question the common assumption that a weak minority group must main- tain unity and solidarity in order to gain its objectives.103 Walker's hypothesis was that disputes among the leadership tend to increase, not decrease, the effectiveness of the Negro community's battle against the institutions of segregation.lo Walker developed a typology of leadership in which each leadership type performed functions necessary to the crea- tion, negotiation and resolution of racial crises. The polar points of the typology were occupied by "protest" and "conservative" leaders. These types were differentiated by social characteristics and differences over tactics and goals.105 Protest leaders were students, members of "Negro improvement groups," college teachers, younger businessmen and ministers; conservative leaders were primarily older businessmen. The conservative leaders were engaged in activities and institutions which were based in the black subcommunity but had links to the white 38 community.* Protest leaders "deal more exclusively with the Negro community than the conservatives, [and have] closer contact with the . . . deprivations suffered by the Negro."106 In a sense, the protest leaders were marginal to both white and black institutions: [they] have fewer reasons to try to protect institu- tions, both charitable and commercial, that presently exist in the Negro community . . . they stand outside the economic and social life of the established commu- nity and they try to keep the dominant leaders, both white and colored, at arm's length.107 The tactics of the protest leaders--demonstrations and boycotts--were opposed by conservatives because such tactics presumably destroyed effective negotiations. Goal differences also increased the tensions between black leaders. While the protest leaders "conduct[ed] their affairs strictly on the basis of their moral principles,"108 and sought an immediate end to all segregation, the conser- vatives had rather different objectives: . . . the conservative leaders have each made adjust- ments to the traditional position of the Negro in Southern society. Although none seems completely sat- isfied, in varying measures they have given up efforts to penetrate the dominant white society and consequently they have a greater commitment to the institutions within the Negro community. . . .109 The conservative leaders were much more acceptable to the whites because they tended to concentrate primarily on improving the economic welfare of the Negro without demanding an immediate end to segregation.ll *Not only were the business enterprises of the con- servatives tied to the white community, but also to the Y.M.C.A., the Urban League and many black churches—-all of which the conservatives had worked hard to develop--and all dependent on white financial support. 39 The third leadership type in Atlanta could be called the "marginals." These were the "several influential men who stand between these two groups [protest and conservative leaders] and are not so deeply committed to either political style."111 In the sit-in controversy in Atlanta each leadership type performed a specific function.112 The protest leaders created a crisis situation that required resolution, but having done so, could not in turn negotiate with the white businessmen.* The conservative leaders then utilized their reputations in and connections with the white community to negotiate a settlement of the controversy (boycotted lunch counters were desegregated after a "cooling-off" delay of six months). In fact, the antagonism between the black con- servative and protest leaders "was functional because it made the conservatives seem more reliable and responsible in the eyes of the whites."113 In turn, these antagonisms were moderated by the "marginals," who had maintained their lines of communication with both leadership types. Killian and Grigg's analysis of Tallahassee argued a kind of "replacement hypothesis": protest leaders had permanently replaced the older leaders as the dominant leader- ship type in the black subcommunity. Walker's "division of *Wilson's comment is appropriate here: ". . . the discretion of the protest leader to bargain after he has acquired the resources with which to bargain is severely limited by the means he was forced to employ in order to create those resources." "The Strategy of Protest," Journal of Conflict Resolution (September, 1961), p. 293. 40 labor" hypothesis differed: each leadership type performed a specific and necessary function in the crisis situation-- and this increased the effectiveness114 of black leader- ship.* Hines and Pierce: The Cyclical Pattern The typology of black leaders developed by Hines and Pierce in Montgomery, Alabama, also questioned the permanency of the new protest leadership type. However, while for Walker a kind of functional coexistence among differing leaders arose from the objective need to perform different functions in any given crisis situation, Hines and Pierce posit a cyclical pattern: the differing functions performed by different leadership types made each specific type most appropriate in differing social and political contexts.115 The famous Montgomery bus boycott of 1955-57 marked a change in black leadership. Pre—boycott leaders (mainly teachers and ministers) played the familiar accommodative role; "fundamentally powerless," they depended on their "acceptability to whites" to gain occasional favors.116 "At the inception of the boycott, pre-protest leaders attempted to 'work things out'"ll'7 but they failed. The new black leaders took over and began to interpret the conflict in terms of their goals: *The division of labor and effectiveness of local leadership in Central City are discussed in detail in Chapter VII. 41 At the start, there were no broad and comprehensive demands for total redress of the "wrongs" inflicted for generations118 . . . [but later] the base was broadened to include the larger issues of segregation and racial discrimination.119 The process of the boycott itself altered the dominant type of black leadership--from accommodative to assertive--and the goals articulated--from limited to more sweeping status goals.* However, with the post—boycott phase came "the decline of Negro participation and group action";120 the leadership structure altered again.** The reversion to accommodation as the leadership form . . . was an accomplished fact within eighteen months after the boycott. Since that time, Negro leadership has remained in the hands of those who tacitly or explicitly subscribe to the theory of accommodation.1 1 Black leadership was situational in nature: in the crisis situation "the protest leader replaces the accommo- dative type as a response to public demand for social action"; with the realization of some of the protest's goals (here, the ending of formally segregated buses), "the pro- test leader, having served as a unifying force, is no longer needed andtfluaaccommodative leader can resume routine and perhaps more realistic goal achievement."122 Everett Ladd: Political Style For Ladd, black leadership had always been "defined" by the local structure of racial relations.123 Since the *See pp. 47-49, this chapter. . **This change coincided with Martin Luther King's leaVing Montgomery to become a national leader. 42 lack of institutional bases for black leadership character- ized this structure of relations, most Negro leaders were "issue leaders,‘ who were particularly "dependent upon pop- ular approval of their handling of issues of race."124 Thus, political style became important—-both to blacks and social scientists--as an indicator of "where [a leader] wants to lead his race and how he proposes to get there."125 Ladd's typology of black leadership was a typology of political styles (defined as a composite of a leader's characteristic goals, means and rhetoric) based upon his findings in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, and Greenville, South Carolina. Since the content of different styles seemingly varied in differing locales, Ladd based his defi- nitions of different leadership types on a "functional equiv— alency"—-"the kind of threat to the existing race relation's structure which whites find contained in a given style."126 Thus, the "most feared" black leaders were defined as the most "militant," and so on. The three styles on his con- tinuum of leadership types (conservative, moderate, mili- tant) were a product of the comparative loosening of racial relations in the urban south since, so Ladd argued, "differ— entiation in the continuum of race leadership styles varies . directly with the degree of permissiveness in Negro- White relations."127 Conservatives emphasized those welfare goals least resisted by most southern whites, and tended toward "empty- ing the race problem of its dynamic content"128--articu1ating 43 easily agreed upon goals. Accordingly, they rejected direct action tactics and tried to work through negotiation. Their rhetoric129 centered upon amelioration of specific prob— lems, rather than direct confrontation of the entire struc- ture of racial relations. In his rhetoric, then, as in race goals and means, the conservative leader imitates white political leaders. His approach is essentially one which he sses whites using successfully. His model is white middle-class politics. The golden words of this type of politics are moderation, consensus, respectability, persuasion, and access.130 At the opposite end of the continuum was the militant style of leadership. The rhetoric of the militant was neces- sarily blunt, direct and high in race content; the intention was to sharpen, not reduce conflict. These leaders stressed precisely those status goals of racial integration most resisted by whites,131 and most successful in mobilizing large numbers of blacks.132 The tactics linked to this mobilization process involved what the conservatives found most obnoxious—-mass involvement in direct action tactics. Ladd ties together tactical preferences and socio-economic- status position within the black community: Most Conservatives . . . are "haves,' and as such they feel separated from the "have nots." As a "have," the Conservative at the least is hesitant about altering the system. . . . The Militant, in contrast, . . . has no doubts that he will gain from a drastic alteration of the existing system. Association with the Negro masses becomes a vehicle for economic and status advancement. At the center point of the leadership continuum was the moderate leadership style. The goals of the moderates 44 were not clearly identifiable as similar to either those of the conservatives or those of the militants; support was given to "both sets of goals under different circumstances."134 Moderates also tended not to rely upon direct action tactics, but mostly "upon negative inducements effected through the normal, regularized channels for political decision-making"l35 --political threats, organization and registration of voters, etc. The rhetoric of moderates did identify areas of racial injustice, but avoided the highly emotive content favored by the militants.136 Evaluation of Typological Literature In contrast to the literature on subcommunity leader- ship structures, the typological literature has done very little definitional spadework on the question of "who is a black leader?" However, the particular research interest seems to center upon interracial political leadership. It is interracial because it is concerned with the position of blacks in relation to other Americans,137 and because all of the leaders discussed here must have--or try for--some kind of contact with white leaders; it is political because of its concern with the "authoritative allocation of values" for the society.138 Both of these concerns are relevant to the central leadership activity of goal choice: . . . in general, Negro leaders were thought of as per- sons able to make decisions affecting the choice of race objectives and/or the means utilized to realize these objectives.l39 45 The typologies cited offer differing ways of classifying the ends-means choices of black leaders. Most of them (with the exception of Killian-Grigg in Tallahassee) reflect the movement from dichotomized to differentiated urban black leadership--which, in turn, parallels the changes in the structure of racial relations in the urban south.140 While in the past the choice for most black leaders was either to work within the existing social structure as a "Tom" or to defy it from without as a "militant," the changes of the last twenty years-—from alterations in the law to the accel- eration of urbanization in the south-—increased the Options available to black leaders in the cities. Ladd, for example, argued that the third unit found on most of these typologies --the moderates--was "made possible by the deve10pment of greater permissiveness in Negro—white relations."141 Thus, most of the post-1954 typologies ring changes on the three basic units: conservative, moderate, militant. However, all of the research shares the basic problem of selecting the prOper typological base. As a result of meth- odological variations in selecting the base, theoretical integration of this research is very difficult.142 Even a cursory examination would show much variation in the typological bases. For example, Thompson used three criteria (concepts, attitudes, behaviors), to place differ- ing leadership types along his continuum, while Hines and Pierce used time—attitudinal criteria (pre-boycott accommo— dating, etc.), and Ladd employed political style (goals, 46 means, rhetoric) for the same purpose. Given these varia- tions, as well as probable differences between cities, it is understandable that the literature shows differing functional relations among black leadership types (in Walker, Killian- Grigg, Hines—Pierce). Ladd offered the most interesting "solution" to this problem of the typological base: Since the frequency and content of different black leadership styles is conditioned by the general structure of racial relations in a given city, the researcher should allow that structure to define for him the "meaning" imputed to different leadership styles. Thus, as we have seen, the "most feared" leader in the area was defined by Ladd as the most "militant" black spokesman. Ladd's method presumably assists in the categorization of leaders, while allowing for and indeed building upon local variations.143 Ladd's approach avoids conventional comparative analysis--analysis which uses general, overarching categor- ies of comparison (protest leadership, conservative leader- ship, etc.), which retain similar meanings in different urban settings. Of course, the danger in Ladd's approach is that of getting "too close" to the local data and of cutting off the comparative dimension completely. Ladd's approach, then, offers a kind of methodological trade-off: making leadership style a locality-specific variable may more accurately reflect local variations in black leadership, 47 while making comparative analysis of leadership types poten- tially more difficult. Negro Politics In Negro Politics144 James O. Wilson developed an attenuated typology of black leaders, focusing only on "vol- unteer Negro civic leaders,"145 and not including other potential leaders--bureaucrats, politicians, voluntary asso— ciation staff personnel, etc. However, four segments of his Chicago research are most relevant to the research in Central City: his discussion of goals; his distinction between moderate and militant leadership types; his analysis of role strain;146 and his assessment of local leadership effectiveness. Goals "Welfare" ends are those which look to the tangible improvement of the community or some individuals in it through the provision of better services, living conditions, or positions. . . . "Status" ends are those which seek the integration of the Negro into all phases of community on the principle of equality—- all Negroes will be granted the opportunity to obtain the services, positions or material benefits of the community on the basis of principles other than race.147 Thus, for Wilson, status goals were concerned first with such issues as integration of the public schools and the opening of all-white public housing units to Negroes of similar incomes, while welfare goals gave priority to more or better schools for black children and the construction of additional low-income housing units for the poor.148 Leaders with welfare goals argued that the Negro was poor 48 and first and most urgently needed things--while such remote ends as integration of the races could come later. The analysis of leaders with status goals reversed these priori- ties: the principle of equal access on non-racial grounds to the life of the general community was given priority because its achievement would make possible all consequent gains. Indeed, merely to improve the material conditions of the Negro subcommunity might further institutionalize and perpetuate segregation.149 The construction of a hospital which would be segre- gated by virtue of its location in Chicago was opposed by leaders with status goals.150 Though an immediate "plus" for local blacks needing the facilities, a segregated hospital was seen as running counter to the principle of integration. For leaders with welfare goals, the new hospital was viewed as a clear gain for the subcommunity. Status goals, which Wilson describes as remote and general principles, differ in form as well as content from those welfare ends oriented to immediate, specific and tan— gible gains.* Wilson argued that these analytical distinc— tions between goals were useful for future research because the choices for black leaders increasingly required either deciding on "the desirability of a welfare as contrasted with *The typology developed in Chapter II distinguishes the content of "new" and "old" status goals, while noting their similarities in form and function. See Chapter II, pp. 85-89. 49 a status goal,‘ or at least "reaching an optimum balance" between the two goals."151 Moderate and Militant Leaders The militant leader characteristically saw issues in a simplified form,152 attempted to combine them,153 presented a maximum number of demands to public agencies,154 and infused all of his goals and demands with the vocabulary of high moral principle.155 Wilson found that in cases where the same information was shared equally "the protestor will see simplicities where the moderate sees complexities."156 Typically, while moder- ates were pondering the legal and political ramifications of integrated "Open housing," a militant leader announced that "this whole housing problem could be solved in a few months."157 The agglomeration of many issues into one large issue repre- sented the militants' impatience with "piecemeal reform." The status goals of the militants also served as a rough kind of analysis, leading to their insistence that the same dimension of race discrimination underlay all issues. Thus were "total" solutions necessary, and the more limited demands of other leaders were viewed with some disdain. To the mili- tants, demands were to be made not only firmly, but in large number: a militant addressing the Board of Education in Chicago listed ten demands covering every aspect of school board policy, while a moderate leader, in a similar statement a year later, made only three recommendations, all of them focusing on a single aspect of board policy.158 Finally, all 50 of the militant's demands were necessarily stated in a distinctive manner: He tends to speak of these matters in terms of their rationale, rather than in relation to immediate needs, and justifies his demands with an appeal to an elab- orate and highly general set of values and rights.159 The moderates, who felt most at ease discussing spe- cific and concrete problems rather than long-range and more inclusive issues,160 clearly placed these problems in a time perspective much longer than that used by the militant. "Progress" had been and would be made in small increments, and these gradual changes over time would lead to still more change. "Time is seen not only as a necessary perspective from which to view race issues, but also as an inevitable component of progress, a vaguely real agent of change."161 Though the militant seemingly shared in many of the characteristics of Mannheim's "utopian thinking" or even Hoffer's "true believer,"162 he was not an ideological iso- late. Many of his organizational links were to white lib- erals and radicals (a situation which continues in Central City), and often he was an active member of a "wide range of liberal causes and associations."163 In contrast, the moderate, as a consequence of his social and business posi- tions, rarely raised race issues with whites because to do so "would detract from other matters or destroy a relation- ship."164 Accordingly, as men recruited from business and the professions and "accustomed to working within the limits of the status quo," the moderates tended to see the world "as 51 it is" and "to accept the existing constraints on action without pressing for far-reaching or unprecedented changes."165 The moderates were also the advocates and perhaps the agents of "institutionalization,"* favoring stable organizations with steady goals. They were "predisposed to move in cus- tomary ways and avoid the unusual, the disturbing, the utopian."166 Moderates were less willing to alter the mission of an organization to strike out at a target of opportunity not previously agreed upon as being within its purview. To do so would mean a sacrifice in other goals--such as friendly relations with supporters 67 . . . the maintenance of the organization should take precedence over the pursuit of attractive ends. . Wilson also found that the status ends of militants and the welfare ends of moderates were linked to differing tactical preferences. Seeking "inclusive solutions of a public nature,’ the militant leader had the most confidence in general "politico-legal solutions," but ironically the least confidence in local politicians, black or white."169 Their dislike for politicians was rooted in the machine nature of Chicago's political organization. Militant leaders did not view the distribution of individual favors as a legiti- mate goal for collective political action.”0 On the other hand, the emphasis on legislative means was more than a reflection of past victories or future hopes: Rather, the effort to "politicize" the race question seems to be another attribute of style, representing the urge for the quick, the decisive, the comprehen- sive, and the permanent. A new law can cut through *See p. 66, this chapter. 52 laborious bargaining or the need to educate or induce; it can be sweeping in its scope, and it will endure. For all these reasons, it is attractive to the protest leader.171 The militant, then, was generally disposed to favor either legal compulsion or group protest. Group action was often seen as having intrinsic value in mobilizing blacks on their own behalf* and was also consistent with the pref- erences and assumptions implicit in the militant style: direct action avoided the constraints on leadership behavior which worked on those who valued access to white leaders and was consistent with the moral tenor of the movement.172 In the service of larger ends, direct protest was seen as necessary and proper--while other goals (such as retaining influence or maintaining organizations) were viewed as "morally inferior."173 Moderate leaders had less confidence in any mass protest. They generally rejected direct protest tactics because (1) they valued most their access to white leaders and protest tactics were seen as destroying that access; (2) because this access was viewed as more effective in getting results than was protest; and (3) because many Negro professionals and businessmen had a "temperamental distaste" for what they regarded as "vulgar" behavior.174 As men accepting the limitations of the status quo, moderates were much less critical of black politicians than *This insight was later used by militant separatists in Central City, who used protest means to cohesion ends; see Chapter II, p. 103. 53 were the militants, but their greatest support was given to "legal solutions"--court action and litigation.l75 In fact, the race moderate sometimes saw the role of Negro organiza- tions as properly confined to bringing suit on behalf of Negroes deprived of rights guaranteed them under law.176 Where law provided no base for court action, moderates pre- ferred a "negotiated settlement in which one deals with people 'at the top.'"177 These situations, not surprisingly, displayed the moderate's forte--his skill at bargaining. The bargaining, though, seemed to be a distinctive kind: moder- ates did not rely on the "negative" sanctions of possible protest, but rather on "access," "persuasion" and "education," offering whites positive inducements for their cooperation. However, in Wilson's account, the fundamental problem for these black bargainers was their lack of such inducements: "the Negro is in no position to provide them either himself or out of the resources he controls."l78* Wilson argues that the conflict over appropriate means between moderates and militants was at its core a dis- pute over how best to maintain an organization. Given his greater access to whites, "protest was not inherently valu- able to the bargainer; indeed, he may find it positively harmful."179 However, those leaders with less access used *Efforts to structure situations so as to create resources with which to bargain are considered in the dis— cussion of the protest model and its local applications, Chapter II, pp. 101-102. 54 protest means to maintain both their organizations and their followings. Agitation may be a means to maintain an organization (such as the NAACP) even at the expense of access to other organizations (such as the Board of Education).* Or, agitation may serve to create a sense of awareness and morale among followers which, over the long run, would be more important as a source of permanent strength for the protest leaders than some concession from a city government. Role Strain** Wilson implies that effective leadership roles were sometimes incompatible with the constraints felt by most members of the black subcommunity. These constraints evolved from the workings of what Wilson called "race values." Race values were the "highly general, widely shared images of desirable states of affairs in the Negro community.V181 Such values were "verbal expressions of race consciousness"-- a consciousness presumably arising from the salience of race for Chicago blacks.182 These values were "fragmentary, par- tially unspoken, and often inconsistent."183 However, to Wilson, the race values were significant because they implied *In Central City, where the NAACP for a time had con- siderable access to the Board as well as virtual representa- tion within the ranks of school administrators, "agitation" by the organization was limited to a few court cases; see p. 95, Chapter II; pp. 187-188, Chapter III; and Chapter VI on the busing controversy. **The term refers to "the felt difficulty in fulfilling role obligations"(W. J. Goode, "A Theory of Role Strain," American Sociological Review, 25, p. 483). These difficul- ties can arise from many sources, but in the instances discussed here, the "strain" results directly from conflict- ing demands made upon those occupying leadership roles. m. 55 a "sense of collectivity"; they were concerned with "what the race as a whole ought to do and believe."184 The con- tent of the race values revolved around broad appeals for unity, demands for more effective leadership, fear of a "sell-out" by leaders and a general desire to eliminate the color bar. These race values served as criteria for evaluating leadership activities. As a consequence, black leaders had to present a "race justification" for their positions because "it is difficult for a civic leader to take a public stand that is contrary to what has been labeled as the 'race' position."185 These "race positions," which Wilson saw as evolving out of the general but vague race values, meant that leaders not assuming "correct" stances would be subject to harsh criticism.186 Those leaders most directly exposed to their black attentive publics--leaders of voluntary asso- ciations, neighborhood groups and the like—-were the most reluctant to expose themselves to this kind of criticism. Wilson argues that the creation of "race positions" unfortunately reduced the "unfettered public discussion of alternatives."187 For most local black leaders, the race values operated as constraints on action, while giving no specific guidelines for action. Thus, on the one hand, race values, as highly general and sometimes inconsistent prefer— ences, set the outer boundaries which few issue leaders could afford to violate, while on the other hand, they pro- vided no compensatory cues for specific actions on specific 56 issues. Indeed, as civic issues became more complex,188 the ambiguity of the race values became even more pronounced: while these values helped maintain unity on simple issues such as opposition to local white violence, they were of small use on issues such as the proposals for a South Side branch of the county hospital and the plans for urban renewal. For Wilson, race values and the emergence of race positions were linked not only to a reduced discussion of alternatives in the subcommunity and a slighting of complexities, but also to the placement of "ideology at the center, not the periphery of action"189-—which was viewed as a major con- straint on leadership activities. In Central City, where a number of blacks have entered mainly white institutions, the problem of role strain con- tinues to be important, but alters in form. Most commonly, role conflicts occur for those individuals attempting to be black leaders while having largely white constituencies. As in Chicago, the constraints on leadership activities are greatest for those blacks most directly exposed to attentive publics or constituencies--but, in this case, mainly white constituencies. The tentative "solution" for many of these leaders--union and Urban League officials, a city councilman, school administrators--is to adopt a "moderate" orientation toward whichever goals they seek.* This_particular form of role strain is possibly typical where blacks have begun to "infiltrate" important institutions in a city, but--as found *See Chapter II, pp. 85-87. 57 in the leadership interviews--it is experienced by local black leaders as perhaps their most accute problem.** Leadership Effectiveness In his assessment of the effectiveness of leaders in the black subcommunity, Wilson reached two interesting con- clusions: that the constraints of formal organization should be avoided where possible, and that the emphasis on status goals should be reconsidered. The costs of formal organiza— tion ranged from the need to retain membership support to the intensification of disagreements over means and ends, especially when such conflicts were tied to competition for 190 For reasons office and influence within an organization. paralleling Selznick's description of the "infusion of value" in an institution, Wilson argued that "the maintenance of an organization often supersedes or modifies the substantive ends which are being sought."191 Perhaps Wilson's most controversial assessment con- cerned the relative merits of status and welfare goals. For Wilson, the condition of black "powerlessness" in truth did not apply to all areas of potential leadership activity. For some ends . . . the Negro can do nothing to remedy his powerlessness. . . . [However] when seeking ends that elicit less irreconcilable passions, scraps of power can be collected and assembled. Certain things can be done: more police protection can be demanded; less discriminatory insurance rates can be pressed for; firms can be induced to hire Negroes. Here, when Negroes fail to act effectively it is more often a case **Local leadership perceptions of role strain are discussed at length in Chapter V. 58 of failures internal to the Negro community than of constraints imposed by the larger community. . . .1 In short, outside the boundaries set by the most "irrecon— cilable passions," there were issue areas in which Negro civic action could make a difference--although perhaps in "not as many areas as militant Negroes would like to believe."193 Wilson concluded that one implication of this study is not that Negro leader- ship is irrelevant, but that it may be decisively relevant only to a certain range of ends--principally welfare ends.l In the last chapter of the Central City research, these prOpo- sitions are evaluated in relation to local black leadership. Evaluation The critical responsel95 to the analytical framework developed in Negro Politics indicates possible areas of dif- ficulty in Wilson's study. For example, in commenting on Wilson's inclusion of blacks without mass followings in his discussion of leadership, Saul Alinsky insisted upon his definition of leadership: "The simple fact is that . . . a bona fide leader has an independent power base and a visible following."196 Wilson's contrary view was that if one were to accept the definition of leadership implicitly held by many . . . the persons considered as "organizers" would be the only "true" leaders in the community . . . it is maintained here, however, that there are many leadership functions, all of which serve--well or ill-—the purposes of the group.197 There seems no apparent reason why those not meeting Alinsky's criteria--men who nevertheless engage in neces- sary leadership activities (for example, negotiation of the 59 crises initiated by the Alinsky-style leaders198 or mobil- ization of needed financial resources)-—should be defined out of one's analysis. Alinsky's View of leadership logic— ally grew out of his own experiences, but use of it would confine analysis to only one type of leader--the militant organizer--and cut off inquiry into the functions performed by individuals not meeting his definition. Perhaps a more important difficulty with Wilson's analysis was stated rather bluntly by Harry Scoble: "Nothing much was happening in Chicago at the time of the field research."199 As a result, Wilson's model of black leader— ship may be somewhat static, as pointed out by Herbert Garfinkel: [Wilson's] model is undoubtedly sound as a standard framework with which to confront normal organizational and political situations. But the tendency is to reckon only with these "normal" relationships when sta- bilized conditions maximize community apathy, and when career ambitions and organizational supports depend on "maintaining connections" in status quo channels of influence. But there have been critical conditions in the history of the Negro protest when normalcy did not prevail, and when protest leadership and organization changed dynamically.200 At the local level, such "critical conditions" can develop when previously muted conflicts between leaders erupt on a highly salient public issue, and when local black leaders discover only tenuous subcommunity support for their positions. The research in Central City, though using Wilson's work as a starting point, has avoided a situation in which "nothing much was happening" by focusing on a subcommunity 60 experiencing just such critical conditions in the controversy over school integration. That generally critical conditions developed in the leadership conflicts of the last decade and that black leadership has "changed dynamically" since the period of Wilson's field research seems certain. In the intervening years, the leadership context has been altered by the debate over black power, the resurgence of black nationalism, the urban riots of the sixties and the growing black population in major cities. Given these conditions, the relationships between goals and local leadership types may have changed consider- ably. Thus, while urban moderates today may espouse the integration goals of yesterday's militants, the latter, in their current form, may claim goals of separate deve10pment associated in the past with black "conservatives." For many whites today, these leadership types are mainly distinguish- able by the means they advocate: local moderates are seen as "responsible" as a consequence of their preference for coalition and legal action, while some militants are viewed as radical not necessarily because of the content of their goals, but as a result of their seeming preference for ~:hfilammatory rhetoric and occasional violence. Thus, though WUson's concept of status goals and his distinctions between Inlitant and moderate continue to be useful in local 61 Inesearch,* changes in leadership goals and the relationships <3f ends to tactics must also be taken into account. The typological analysis begun in Chapter II seeks to do this. Black Leadership Literature: An Overview Some of the general literature concerned with leader- ship, organization and intergroup conflict offers a means for summarizing the differences of the last few decades between traditional and protest leaders, the differing forms of organization within the subcommunity and the process of leadership differentiation, all of which are implicit in the foregoing research. The fundamental condition of traditional black leadership201 was powerlessness; very few of the conventional resources of power202 were theirs. Lacking both these resources and most of the basis for charismatic, traditional or legal authority,203 black leadership tended to be imposed *Harry Scoble (see footnote 199), and Robert Crain, et al., The Politics of School Desegregation (Garden City, 1969), 415 pp., are examples of research employing many of Wilson's terms of analysis. Following his research in post- riot Watts, Scoble hypothesized that black leaders of all types had become more "militant," and that welfare goals increasingly were being stressed in black demands. In the course of their study of the school desegregation issue in several cities, Crain, et al. distinguished black community leaders and civil rights leaders by their adherence to wel- fiue and status goals, respectively. While Wilson had lhfled militant leaders to protest tactics, Crain's later rmxmrch found that most black leaders asserting the status gmfl.of integration "seemed to be quite conservative in the gaps of actions they are willing to take" (p. 182). Fur— Umumore, the researchers suggested, albeit briefly, that tMastatus goal of integration can sometimes be accompanied M’a "welfare-orientation" (p. 116). See the discussion of mOdGrates and tactics, Chapter II, pp, 95-93, 62 ("determined by superior authority"204), not emergent. The primary basis for traditional black leadership, then, lay in selection by and acceptability to whites. However, because "the stability of the leadership in the Negro commu- nity is a functional necessity for the leaders in the commu- nity at large,"205 a bargaining situation existed:206 (1) white and black leaders sought conflicting ends through the exchange of compensations; (2) the ends were not completely incompatible; (3) a mutually agreed upon ratio for the exchange of compensations existed. Thus,specified"favors" by white leaders were exchanged for "responsible" black leadership which would not threaten the existing structure of racial relations. The weight of the evidence in the research cited shows that traditional subcommunity leadership was, in Lewin's phrase, "leadership from the periphery."207 Gen— erally provided by the "economically successful" and by those blacks "who have distinguished themselves,‘ peripheral leaders tended to identify with whites and to seek their approval, while de-emphasizing their minority group member- ship.208 This resulted in a lukewarm leadership "funda— mentally eager to leave the group."209 The previously low levels of political participation and organizational activity among the Negro masses210 made possible white selection as the basis for black leadership. This lack of a mass base211 further constrained even the imposed black leadership: the appearance of "leadership" 63 could be maintained only by favors brought back from the white community, not by any kind of sustained protest activity by blacks. Even those organizations which poten- tially could mobilize mass protest, North or South--political organizations, labor unions, churches, the Urban League and the NAACP-—frequently depended on white financial support.212 The traditional black leadership can be viewed as a leadership response to the constraints of a particular social situation:* with few resources for protest, the limits of a segregated and economic social system and the low levels of black organization and activity, traditional leadership in fact may have been most appropriate for the black sub- community. However, with the changes flowing from the Supreme Court's school integration decision of 1954 (as already discussed), the tasks for black leadership changed-- and thereby changed black leadership as well. . . . it has been repeatedly observed that as a group moves from one task to another, the situational demands alter in such a way that different forms of participa- tion assume leading qualities, and different members may [become] . . . leaders.2 Situational changes further the circulation of leadership elites largely because the traditional leaders "are usually so married to the definition of the situation as it existed at the time of their initial involvement"215 as to make new leadership a necessity. *Situation is used here to mean "the set of values and attitudes with which the individual or the group has to deal in a process of activity and with regard to which this activity is planned and its results appreciated. Every con- crete activity is the solution of a situation.214 64 The post—1954 generation of emergent* black leaders was generally younger, and more dedicated to the goal of racial integration and the accompanying tactics of active protest. The reformulation of tactics--from bargaining to protest--also meant a change in the relationship of leaders and followers. Leaders now Egg to maximize their influence with blacks in order to mobilize them to bring pressure to bear upon white institutions via protest tactics: Protest is distinguished from bargaining by the exclu- sive use of negative inducements (threats) that rely, for their effect, on sanctions which require mass action or response.216 ——_— Theories of intergroup conflict show that the use of these protest tactics can be linked to further changes in the skills required of leaders and the organization of their followers: the increase in intergroup hostilities meant that "leaders arise who are adept in conflict,"217 while, according to Coser, "conflict with another group leads to . . . increased cohesion of the group."218 Although, in Hemphill's view, all leadership is characterized by the "initiation of structure" within a group,219 this seems especially true of leadership in the context of sharp inter- group conflict: The enduring consequence of intergroup conflict is toward recasting the organization . . . that prevail[s] within each group to strengthen its role in the con- flict.220 *Emergent, unlike imposed leadership, is "conditioned upon consent of followers."2 1 It is similar, then, to the "issue leadership" of Ladd. 65 Indeed, there is some evidence in the black urban leadership literature that different leadership types char- acteristically utilized differing forms of social organiza- tion. Traditional leaders were most often integrated into the institutional structure of the black subcommunity; group ends presumably were served by the acceptability to and the contacts with whites arising from black leaders' positions in the institutional structure. Protest leaders, in general, did not seem to occupy such positions: for example, Walker found them to be marginal to both black and white institu- tions,222 and Ladd characterized them as "have-hots" seeking to alter the existing institutional arrangements."223 These leaders did, however, form protest organizations to reach their goals. Using the terms of Harbison and Myers,224 many of the protest leaders could be characterized as "organiza— tion builders"--those leaders most concerned with innovation, defining new goals and the creation of organizations instru- mental for these goals. The significance of the varying forms of social organ- ization linked with different leadership types is that leadership behavior seems to vary with organizational struc- ture.225 Though Selznick has been concerned mainly with leadership in large-scale organizations, his analytical dis- tinctions between institutions and organizations may be suggestive here. Selznick distinguishes between an organi- zation as an "expendable tool, a rational instrument engi— neered to do a job," and an institution as "more nearly a 66 natural product of social needs and pressures--a responsive adaptive organism."226 Institutionalization is a process. It is somethin that happens to an organization over time. . . .22 In what is perhaps its most significant meaning, "to institutionalize" is to infuse with value beyond the technical requirements of the task at hand . . . [this process] is largely a reflection of the unique way in which [the institution] fulfills personal or group needs . . . the result is a prizing of the [institutional] device for its own sake. . . .228 Because there is "a close relation between 'infusion with value' and 'self-maintenance,‘ groups faced with new problems and altered circumstances" usually seek to preserve institutions.*229 In this context, it is not surprising that the tra- ditional conservative leadership, which drew both its psychic and material rewards from high status in the institutions of a segregated subcommunity,230 found it difficult to adopt the protest style of leadership--leadership which threatened the very basis of the existing institutional arrangements. At the same time, protest leaders--generally younger and less integrated into existing institution523l-- were free to create organizations which could be used as "instruments" in the struggle for racial integration. In turn, the organizational context conditioned leadership behavior: *This proposition is relevant to Wilson's contention that local black leaders might profit by avoiding the con- straints of formal organization. See discussion in last chapter. 67 A rapidly developing organization which has certain goals to achieve under emergency time-pressures presents an entirely different time pattern from a stable organ— ization. . . . In the former case, the leadership pattern may emphasize initiative, creativity, daring and, to some extent, a rejection of traditional pathways to goals and even a reformulation of organizational goals.* The organization may be one in which there is tremendous upward mobility and high motivation. In the latter case of the older . . . institution, the pattern may be one of conformity to tradition, [and] an emphasis upon con- ventional pathways to conventional goals. . . . 34 Only to emphasize the shift in subcommunity leader- ship from traditional-institutional leaders to protest- organization leaders, however, is to oversimplify the differentiation of black leadership. For example, the objective need to perform differing leadership tasks and the situational changes faced by black leaders both worked to increase the need for and the number of differing leadership types. Walker233 and Wilson234 suggest that the performance of one leadership function (such as initiating direct action tactics) often "cancels out" the opportunity to perform another needed function (for example, negotiating an end to a "crisis"); more generally, Selznick suggests that each organization and its leadership developed their own special *The enormous flexibility on goals exhibited by many protest organizations and by their leaders has been striking. Stokely Carmichael, for example, moved from integration to black power to the study of Nkrumah in a few years; Floyd McKissick shifted readily in the mid-sixties from the inte- gration to the black power emphases; and both S.N.C.C. and C.O.R.E. shifted from integration goals and white allies to black power and routine condemnations of white liberals within a period of about eighteen months. To say that leadership and organizational goals were flexible is to understate the case. 68 competencies or inadequacies or both.235 Taken together, these analyses indicate the necessity for a division of labor in which different leaders and organizations perform differing, but necessary functions. In addition, within each organization the differentiation of leadership is encouraged by the primary organizational needs "for goal achievement or achievement of 'valued states' and for main- tenance of the group."236 Because only rarely can leaders simultaneously meet both needs equally well, "it is to be expected that . . . two primary modes of leadership will appear" within the group.237 Situational changes also increase the chances for differentiation among black leaders. Leadership "unity" or "consensus" on meaningful goals is usually fleeting at best. For example, the civil rights movement in general was characterized by consensus only so long as the focus was upon the first layer of racial discrimination--in public accommodations, schools, etc. When greater attention was given over to increasingly complex forms of discrimination --in housing, employment, voting--the movement lost much of its cohesiveness, and began spinning off black power, separatist, nationalist and other ideologies. However, there are signs that follower expectations can sometimes work to decrease "permissible" differentiation among black leaders. While increased "permissiveness" in racial relations has the effect of also increasing leader- ship differentiation,238 (e.g., widening the range of 69 possible leadership styles) in Sherif's words, "this range of alternatives for leadership tends to narrow down as the movement encounters resistance or oppression."239 Iron- ically, this "narrowing down" process may further handicap minority-group leadership, once certain parts of the "division of labor," or specific leadership tasks are defined by fol- lowers as illegitimate (e.g., when all negotiators are "Toms" and all black politicians "Oreos"). The relationship between differentiated and effective leadership is further considered in the last chapter. The general leadership and organizational literature brings pattern to the more limited local black leadership research which has been reviewed and evaluated in this chap- ter. The next chapter develops a typology of black leaders in Central City, and discusses the methods of research used. 70 FOOTNOTES lFloyd Hunter, Community Power Structure: A Study of Decision Makers (Chapel Hill, 1953), p. 115. 21bid. 3Ernest A. T. Earth and Baha Abu-Laban, "Power Structure and the Negro Subcommunity," American Sociological Review (Feb., 1959), p. 71. 4Ibid., p. 73. 5Howard W. Pfautz, "The Power Structure of the Negro Subcommunity: A Case Study and a Comparative View," Phylon (Summer, 1962), p. 160. 6Tilman C. Cothran and William Phillips, Jr., "Negro Leadership in a Crisis Situation," Phylon (Summer, 1961), p. 108. 7Hubert M. Blalock, Jr., Toward a Theory of Minority Grouijelations (New York, 1967), p. 19. 8M. Elaine Burgess, Negro Leadership in a Southern City (Chapel Hill, 1962), PP. 97-98. 9Hunter, op. cit., p. 120. 10;p;g., p. 126. lleautz, op. cit., p. 162. 12Earth and Abu-Laban, op. cit., p. 74. 13Burgess, op. cit., p. 102. There is one major exception: education. The exceptionally highly educated Durham leadership had 15.3 mean years of education and, of the thirty-one "power nominees," nineteen had taken graduate work. 14Ibid., p. 81. 15For fuller disCussions of possible bases of influ- ence or power, see Robert A. Dahl, "The Analysis of Influence in Local Communities," in Social Science and Community Action, ed. by Charles R. Adrian (East Lansing, 1960); and Peter H. Rossi, "Theory, Research, and Practice in Community Organi- zation," in Social Science and Community Action, ed. by Charles R. Adrian (East Lansing, 1960). 71 16Hunter, op. cit., p. 117. 171111.. p. lBlQig}, p. l9ygig. 20123§., P 21;2i§., p. zleiQ-r p P 23ibid., 24Ibid., pp. 25Ibid., p. 118. 126. 141. 138. 140. 141. 117-118. 143. 26Barth and Abu-Laban, op. cit., p. 76. 271bid. 28Burgess, op. cit., p. 82. 29Ibid., p. 157. Forty percent of the lower class sample could not even name one of the subcommunity leaders. 3OIbid., p. 31Ibid., p. 196. 159. 32She is much less clear, however, as to why this change in priorities occurred when it did. 33l§i§°r p. 34EQEQ'I p. 35l§i§°t p. 3612ig., p. 37£21g.' p. 38Ibid., p. 193. 166. 142. 177. 143. 192. Evidently, white leaders accurately perceived the consensus of black leadership since three quarters of them reported to Burgess that all Negro leaders were behind the push for school desegregation. 39Ibid., p. 162. 72 4OPfautz, op. cit., p. 163. 41See the discussion of "The Problem of Political Generations, (New York, 1951), pp. 120-127. 42Pfautz, op. cit., pp. 162—163. 43;p;g., p. 163. 44l§lg° 45;p;g., p. 164. 46Ibid. 47Cothran and Phillips, op. cit., p. 481bid., p. 112. 49Hunter, op. cit., p. 114. 5°Ibid., p. 118. Slibid. in Social Movements, ed. by Rudolf Heberle 113. 52Ibid., p. 139. Hunter uses "power" here to mean "the ability of personnel to move goods and services toward defined goals." 53;p;g., p. 141. 54;p;g., pp. 147-148. 55;p;g., p. 137. 55;p;g., p. 142. 57l§i§° 53;p;g., p. 138. 59;p;g., pp. 141-142. 60Burgess, op. cit., p. 161. 51;p;g., p. 192. 62;p;g., p. 175. 63Ibid., p. 162. 64Barth and Abu-Laban, op. cit., p. 76. 73 65Hunter, op. cit., p. 24. Decision makers are "personS'of dominance, prestige and influence . . . able to enforce their decisions by persuasion, intimidation, coercion, and, if necessary, force." 66Barth and Abu—Laban, op. cit., p. 74. 67Pfautz, op. cit., p. 161. 681bid., p. 165. 69Ibid., p. 160. 70Cothran and Phillips, op. cit., p. 107. 71Ibid., p. 117. 72Ibid. 73Ibid., p. 109. 74Ibid., p. 115. 75Barth and Abu-Laban, op. cit., p. 70. 76Blalock, op. cit., p. 21. 77See Robert A. Dahl, "A Critique of the Ruling Elite Model," American Political Science Review (June, 1958), pp. 463-469; Nelson Polsby, "The Sociology of Community Power: A Reassessment," Social Forces (March, 1959), pp. 232-236; and Polsby, "Three Problems in the Analysis of Community Power," American Sociological Review (Dec., 1959), PP. 796- 803; and Raymond E. Wolfinger, "The Study of Community Power," American Sociological Review (Oct., 1960), PP. 636-644. 78For example, see James O. Wilson, Negro Politics: The Search for Leadership (New York, 1960), pp. 16-17. 79Burgess, op. cit., pp. 97-98. 80Earth and Abu-Laban in 1959, Burgess in 1960, Cothran-Phillips in 1961 and Pfautz in 1962. 81Max Weber, The Methodology of the Social Sciences (United States, 1949), p. 93. 82Ibid., p. 101. 83Ibid., p. 102. 84For discussion of this, see "Howard Becker-- Typological Analyst," in Charles P. Loomis and Zona K. Loomis, Modern Social Theories (Princeton, 1961), pp. 30-34. 74 85John J. Blue, Jr., "Patterns of Racial Stratifica- ton: A Categoric Typology," Phylon (Winter, 1959), P. 364. 86John C. McKinney, "The Development of Methodology, Methods and Techniques in American Sociology Since World War I," (Michigan State University pre-publication distri- bution, 1954), p. 53. 87Daniel C. Thompson, The Negro Leadership Class (Englewood Cliffs, 1963), p. 59. 88£21Q. 891919- 90I_b_i__g., p. 79. 911m” p. 68. 92l§l§° 93;p;g., p. 64. 94_I_b_i_d_., p. 70. 95%., p. 69. 96gpig., p. 75. 973339, p. 79. 98Lewis M. Killian and Charles Grigg, Racial Crisis in America: Leadership in Conflict (Englewood Cliffs, 1964), p. 81. 99;p;g., p. 87. loolpig., p. 88. lOllpig., p. 87. lozgpig., pp. 88-89. 103Pfautz, op. cit., p. 160. This seems to be Pfautz's implicit assumption. 104Jack L. Walker, "The Functions of Disunity: Negro Leadership in a Southern City," Journal of Negro Education (Summer, 1963), p. 228. 105Oddly enough, Walker first states that the main differences are only over tactics, not goals (p. 231), but later furnishes the evidence reported here concerning obvious goal differences. 75 1°51bid., p. 231. 107121§z 103;p;g., p. 232. 1°91pgg., p. 231. llolpig., p. 235. 111;p;g., p. 232. 112Ibid., p. 233. Walker also cites evidence of similar divisions of leadership labor in Knoxville, Tennessee, and Winston-Salem, North Carolina. 1131bid., p. 233. 114Ibid., p. 259. Walker defines effectiveness as simply "the removing of the institutions of segregation." 115This approach is very close to the situational emphasis in leadership theory; for example, see this chapter, pp. 67-68. 116Ralph H. Hines and James E. Pierce, "Negro Leader— ship After the Social Crisis: An Analysis of Leadership Changes in Montgomery, Alabama," Phylon (Spring, 1965), pp. 165-166. ll7;p;g., p. 167. llg;p;g., p. 168. 119;p;g., p. 167. lzo;p;g., p. 170. 121gpgg., p 172. izzgéig. 123Everett C. Ladd, Jr., Negro Political Leadership in the South (1966), PP. 2-3. 124Ibid., p. 4. 1251bid., p. 146. 125Ibid., p. 150. 127Ibid., p. 199. 76 1281bid., p. 159. 129Ibid., pp. 169—170. Rhetoric includes "the language, tone and manner with which leaders publically refer to matters involving race and race relations." 13OIbid., p. 172. 1311bid., pp. 182-183. 1321bid., p. 184. 133Ibid., p. 189. 134Ibid., p. 200. 1351bid., p. 212. 1361bid., p. 215. 137Thompson, op. cit., p. 57. 138Ladd, op. cit., p. 3. 139Ibid., p. 4. 140Since the bulk of this research was done in the urban south, this condition limits the generalizations one can make about northern areas. 141Ladd, op. cit., p. 198. 142Blalock, op. cit., pp. 18-21. 143The operational process for selecting the "most feared" black leaders is not as clear as it might seem at first: "Most feared" by whom? Mass publics? White leaders? Political officials? Mass media? And is any "fear," no matter how irrational or inaccurate, accepted as the basis for one's typology? See Chapter II, p. 189. 144Wiison, op. cit., p. 342. 1451bid., p. 255. 146W. J. Goode, "A Theory of Role Strain," American Sociological Review, 25, PP. 483-496. 147Wilson, op. cit., p. 185. 148Ibid. 149Ibid., p. 186. 77 150lppg., pp. 189-190, p. 207. l51;p;p., p. 185. 1523ppg., p. 215. 153lpip., pp. 215-216. 154lpig., p. 216. lSSlQig. 1551pig., p. 215. 1571219- 153;p;g., p. 216. 1591219- 160lpig., p. 232. 161£9i§. 162;p;g., p. 217. l63l§1§°t p. 218. 154lppg., p. 233. 155;p;g., p. 234. 166%. 167£§i§° 168;p;g., p. 235. l69;p;p., p. 221. l70;p;g., p. 222. l7l;p;p., pp. 221-222. l72;p;g., p. 224. 1731219- 174;p;g., p. 241. 175£91g., p. 239. l761bid. 78 l77;p;p., p. 240. l73;p;g., p. 244. 179;p;g., p. 245. 1801ppg., p. 225. lBl;p;g,, p. 170. 1821§ig. l83;p;g., p. 172. 184l21g. 185;p;g., p. 178. 1853pig., pp. 180-183. l87;p;p., p. 184. 1881219- 189l9ig. 1901p;g,, p. 291. 1911219- 192;p;g., p. 289. l93;p;g., p. 309. l94;p;g., pp. 309—310. 195See Saul Alinsky, "Power and Leadership," :92 Nation, (Feb. 25, 1961), pp. 174-175; M. Elaine Burgess, review, Social Forces (Oct., 1961), PP. 95-96; Herbert Garfinkel, American Political Science Review, (Dec., 1961), pp. 934-935; Allen D. Grimshaw, Annals of the American Academy (May, 1961), pp. 234-235. 196Alinsky, op. cit., p. 174. 197Wilson, op. cit., p. 269. 198See the argument of Walker, op. cit., pp. 227-236. 199Harry Scoble, "Effects of Riots on Negro Leader- ship,‘ in Riots and Rebellion, ed. by Louis H. Masotti and Don R. Bowen (Beverly Hills, 1968), see footnote 2 on p. 344. 79 200Garfinkel, op. cit., p. 934. 201Though called traditional here, this same type of leadership is variously characterized as "old" (Killian- Grigg), "conservative" (Hunter), and even as "Uncle Toms" (Thompson). 202See Dahl and Rossi in Adrian (ed.), op. cit. 203Max Weber, "The Three Types of Legitimate Rule," in Complex Organizations: A Sociological Reader, ed. by Amitai Etzioni (New York, 1961), pp. 4-14. 204E. P. Hollander, Leaders, Groups and Influence (New York, 1964), P. 6. 205Hunter, op. cit., p. 143. 206James O. Wilson, "The Strategy of Protest: Problems of Negro Civic Action," Journal of Conflict Reso- lution (Sept., 1961), p. 291. 207Kurt Lewin, "The Problems of Minority Leadership" from Resolving Social Conflicts, ed. by Gertrud Weiss (1948), reprinted in Alvin W. Gouldner, Studies in Leadership (New York, 1950), P. 193. 2081bid., p. 193. 2091bid. 210Wendell Bell, et al., Public Leadership (San Francisco, 1961), pp. 84—87. 211Wilson in Journal, op. cit., P- 297- 212Walker, op. cit., p. 231. 213Cecil A. Gibb, "Leadership: Psychological Aspects," International Encyclopedia of the Social Sciences (United States, 1968), p. 93. 214William Thomas and Florian Znaniecki, "The Defi- nition of the Situation," Readings in Social Psychology (New York, 1947), PP. 76-77. 215Edgar Chasteen, "Public Accommodations: Social Movements in Conflict," Phylon (Fall, 1969), P. 236. 216Wilson in Journal, op. cit., p. 292. 217Muzafer Sherif, In Common Predicament: Social Psychology of Intergroup Conflict (Boston, 1966). 80 218Lewis Coser, The Functions of Social Conflict (Glencoe, 1956), P. 95. 219J. K. Hemphill, "Why People Attempt to Lead," in Leadership_and Interpersonal Behavior, ed. by L. Petrullo and B. M. Bass (New York, 1961). 220Sherif, op. cit. 221Hollander, op. cit., p. 6. 222Walker, op. cit., p. 231. 223Ladd, op. cit., p. 189. 224Arnold S. Tannenbaum, "Leadership: Sociological Aspects," International Encyclopedia . . . , op. cit., p. 102. 225For example, see Muzafer Sherif and Carolyn Sherif, An Outline of Social Psychology (New York, 1956). 226Philip Selznick, Leadership in Administration (Evanston and New York, 1957), P. 5. 227Ibid., p. 16. 228Ibid., p. 17. 229Ibid., p. 21. 230For a somewhat exaggerated attack on this group, see E. Franklin Frazier, Black Bourgeoisie (New York, 1957). 231However, these leaders were located in the middle— upper strata within the black subcommunity. 232Daniel Katz, "Social Psychology and Group Pro- cesses," in Annual Review of Psychology (Stanford, 1951), as quoted in Selznick, op. cit., p. 102. 233Walker, op. cit., p. 228. 234Wilson in Journal . . . , op. cit., p. 293. 235Selznick, 0p. cit., see discussion on pp. 49-53. 236Cecil A. Gibb, in International Encyclopedia . . . 0p. cit., p. 94. 237Ibid., p. 94. 81 238Ladd, op. cit., p. 199. 239Muzafer Sherif, "If the Social Scientist is to be more than a mere Technician . . . , Journal of Social Issues (Jan., 1968), p. 52. CHAPTER II A TYPOLOGY OF LOCAL BLACK LEADERSHIP An awareness of the studies of local black leadership discussed in the first chapter was essential to the research in Central City. However, it proved inappropriate to use locally any ppg of the approaches or typologies described in Chapter I--reaffirming once again the difficulties of developing over-arching leadership typologies intended to apply in a variety of settings.* Factors of time and place1 evidently affect the development and distribution of differ— ing leadership types to such an extent that typologies developed elsewhere (in ppppp times and places) cannot be transferred ip toto to the local situation. In the next chapter, the Central City black subcom— munity is described in detail in terms of the demographic patterns of migration, pOpulation, employment, income, edu- cation and housing, as well as relations between local police and the subcommunity and the constraints upon the develop- ment of black politics in Central City. Variations in some of these subcommunity characteristics may account in large measure for the inter-city variations in leadership types. For example, given the patterns traced in Chapter III, one *See discussion in first chapter, pp. 44-47. 82 83 reasonably would predict for Central City a lower incidence of "militant" leaders of subcommunity-based organizations than in cities, such as Chicago and Los Angeles, where the resources of numbers and institutional deve10pment are more available.* Again, given Central City's new but growing black middle class2 which finds a large number of local and state "white-controlled" institutions available for both per- sonal mobility and "infiltration" as a group tactic, as dis— cussed in the next chapter, it is not surprising that posi- tions in these institutions frequently will serve as bases for black leadership. Another important source of varia— tion is that Central City differs in size from those cities in which other typological analyses were developed. Cities such as Chicago, Atlanta and Los Angeles* offer a consider- ably different context for local minority leadership than a medium-sized city with a relatively small black population and a very different political history. Thus, variations in city and subcommunity character- istics make certain leadership types more or less likely to occur locally; hence, the general typologies of moderates and militants, radicals and conservatives developed else- where frequently do not completely "fit" the local situation. This condition establishes one of the primary tasks for this research: the development of an empirically based categoric *See leadership list, this chapter, p. 117. **Research in these cities was done by Wilson, Hunter and Scoble, respectively. 84 typology which adequately distinguishes among a range of leadership types, and can be used for analysis of local leadership behavior. This typology is described here and further developed in the next three chapters. However, given the research done elsewhere, local analysis hardly begins dp_ppyp. Though typologies such as Wilson's may not be entirely appropriate for research in the Central City subcommunity, such work continues to have a good deal of conceptual utility; in the discussion which follows, variants of concepts used in past research (par— ticularly Wilson's) will be employed. As the first chapter states, in an igggl typology paradigms are developed and then data are gathered to mea- sure the paradigm's divergence from or congruity with a given "reality." However, categoric typologies focus on the leadership types located through research, rather than delineating all those types logically possible. Therefore, the typology developed in Central City--as with most of those developed in the leadership studies already discussed-— is constructed out of the data themselves, particularly the informant and leadership interviews. In Blue's words, a categoric typology "deals with the type models that are constructed from empirical instances of the phenomena,"3 while according to McKinney, the categoric typology is a purposive, planned selection, abstraction, combina— tion, and accentuation of a set of criteria that have empirical referents, [which serve] . . . as a basis for comparison of empirical cases. . . . [It] has the scien- tific function of "ordering" the concrete data. . . .4 85 The specific methods used to collect data as a basis for this typology5 are discussed in this chapter, pp. 106-119. The categoric typology distinguishing among Central City leaders is of the continuum type--no doubt reflecting the continuing movement from dichotomized to differentiated black leadership.* The typology is mainly based upon the ends-means choices of local leaders. However, the varying models of group action given priority by differing leaders, and the locus of organizational/issue activity are also described. Therefore, the typology of local leaders is based upon an ordering of the differences between leadership types in terms of (1) goals, (2) means, (3) loci of leader- ship activity, and (4) action models preferred (coalition, protest, cohesion). These variables consistently discrimi- nate between local leadership types. Terms "Militants," "moderates," and "new" and "old" status goals are typological terms requiring clarification. In Wilson's analysis, the terms militant and moderate were used as generic titles for leadership "styles"; in Negro Politics, these terms encompassed a variety of theoretically separable categories--goals, means, rhetoric, class, organizational affiliation and so on. The terms are used in more limited fashion in this typology. Both terms refer mainly to the *For a brief discussion of polar and continuum typolo- gies and differentiated leadership, see p. 44, Chapter I. 86 means component--specifically, to time-orientations, action preferences and the increments of policy change acceptable to differing types of leaders. The time perspective of moderates is relatively long: necessary changes are seen as usually occurring in small increments over time. Their preference is for action on specific, tangible and concrete matters--for example, gaining four new jobs for blacks with a construction company, or moving a limited number of blacks into key positions. These activities are seen as eventually leading to attain- ment of an end goal--though among leaders in Central City the goal can and does vary (unlike in Negro Politics). The time perspective of militants is different: in their eyes, positive change usually results not from a slow step-by-step process (which is often explicitly scorned), but from a con- centrated effort designed to alter a given situation at the fastest possible rate. Thus, militant separatists demand immediate community control, while local militant integra- tionists seek immediate school integration through the courts. What militants share is the urge for the quick, the decisive and the comprehensive change. There are also leadership differences concerning the acceptable increments of policy change. In Central City, the militant separatists are not satisfied with the prospect of comparatively autonomous neighborhood schools; instead, they desire total control over all policing, tax— ing and political functions in the black subcommunity, and 87 shape their actions toward these ends. Those who readily settle for less are generally viewed as "Toms," or in one person's words, as "the downtown boys who sell out every day."6 Nor are militant integrationists satisfied with the building of a new West Side school or integration of the elementary grades; rather, only complete integration of the entire school system is acceptable. In encompassing time-orientations, acceptable increments of change and action preferences, the terms militant and moderate, as used here, refer to characteristic ways of moving toward given gpgls--whether goals of integration, community control or whatever. A distinction is also made between "new" and "old" status goals. The old status ends are the integration goals described by Wilson in Chicago more than a decade ago.* In Central City these goals continue to be held by the large number of militant integrationists, but new goals of "separate development, "community control" and "black autonomy" have been developed by the young militant sep- aratists. These ends are referred to as the new status goals because in both form and function they parallel the old status goals. In both instances, the form is the same in that both new and old status goals are goals of principle for which most other gains may be traded off. Thus, the militant separatists are unwilling to work with those viewed as *See Chapter I, pp. 47-49. 1.: 88 conservative blacks, even when such arrangements would be useful, because to do so would mean working with "the white man's agents" in the subcommunity.7 And the militant inte- grationists in Central City have been willing to go down to defeat rather than give up on a matter of principle--in this case, complete integration of the school system.* The for— mulations of the goals themselves have a great deal to do with the staunchness with which they are maintained; both new and old status goals function as a kind of causal analysis: gaining goal x is seen as making possible all other consequent gains--gains which would not accrue to blacks pptil the goal of principle (whether integration or control of the subcommunity) had figgp been achieved.** Therefore, the incremental changes viewed so hopefully by moderates are often viewed by militants as far from satis- factory. The logic implicit in the following comments is representative of these militant tendencies. . . . look, the reason I want black kids to go to those schools [integrated schools] isn't just because there are white kids there. It's because we want what you've *This is a description, not an interpretation of their behavior. Ultimately, of course, "losing" at the local level (see Chapter VI) can be the basis for a successful court case which will "force" school integration. **This view of "militants" is milder but not dissimi- lar to Glazer's View of "radicals": ". . . the radical believes that there can be no particular solutions to par- ticular problems but only a general solution. . . . [For themlnothing ever changes short of the final apocalyptic revolutionary moment when everything changes." Nathan Glazer, "The Limits of Social Policy," Commentary (Sept., 1971), P. 52. 89 already got. The books, the teachers, and all that are only in the white schools now, and so I want my son to have those facilities--that's the only way for us to move up, it's the keyito everything we want . . . there's nothing bigger [more important] around here. . . [militant integrationist-—emphasis added.] In order to have right collective action, you've got to have the proper analysis* . . . as long as [white men] control our lives we're not going to get anything but some crumbs from Model Cities . . . we're trying to get Africans to define themselves as people and take control of this community . . . until we do this [take control] nothing's going to happen. . . .8 [militant**separatist--emphasis added.] Types: Goals Though militants have goals which are similar in form and function, the content of these goals clearly dif- fers. The militant integrationists, as the term implies, work for the immediate attainment Of integration. In practice, this preference has led to a focus on school integration--which has become a local battle fought through *This speaker was a former college student. **"Militants" and "moderates" could also be defined in a manner similar to Ladd's research in Negro Political Leadership in the South--as locality-specific variables, the application of which is defined by local views con- cerning which leaders are militant and which are moderates. However, as discussed in pp. 46-47 in Chapter I, this method poses problems. In Central City, for example, those blacks here categorized as militant integrationists are generally regarded as "responsible" by white informants. On the other hand, voting publics evidently view militant integrationists with some trepidation--voting such a leader out of office and then electing a moderate separatist leader. If one seeks to anchor the meanings of militance and moderation solely in local perceptions, in Central City who is the militant and who the moderate? In addition, by using militant and moderate to refer to means preferred, one at least leaves Open the possibility of comparisons between typologies developed in different settings--an opportunity seemingly minimized by Ladd's methodology. v. n 90 the courts, board of education and recall elections and a seemingly endless round of meetings, pro and con. In con- trast, militant separatists reject integration in all spheres, and argue for the "autonomy" of the subcommunity. The preferred forms and extent of community control vary between militant and moderate separatists, with the mili— tants calling for the most extreme version: gii political, social and economic functions and institutions in the sub- community would be controlled by local blacks and, in effect, the subcommunity would become a sovereignty unto itself.* Some militant separatists call for the drawing of legal boundaries around the black subcommunity; as a first step, others propose that whites forcibly be kept out of the black West Side.** Through much of this might be dismissed as only rhetoric, in fact a radical form of commu- nity control does represent the substance Of militant sep- aratist goals. In the context of local leadership, militants Of both stripes represent the purest examples of clear goals, and the most systematic relating of means to ends. In short, ideologies are clearest at the Opposing ends of the leadership continuum. However,—-though this was not often recognized by those interviewed——considerable ambiguity *Depending on one's views, the term "separatist" initially may seem rather harsh. However, given the content Of these leaders' goals, as developed in this and the next chapter, the term seems both fair and accurate. **See flier distributed in the subcommunity, Chapter III, pp. 167—168. 91 remains. The militant integrationists are frequently unable to specify the limits, if any, Of the integration they desire; only a few have thought through the relationship between their integration goals and possible questions of group identity, intermarriage or cultural distinctiveness. Militant separatists, too, though drawing from the ideologi- cal well of various black nationalisms, sometimes seem uncer- tain as to how a radical form of community control allows for the collection of resources adequate to group purposes. Thus, though the end points in the typology of local leader— ship represent the most ideologically pure formulations of goals, ambiguities in these goals and tensions between goals and means still remain. As might be imagined, a state of mutual scorn and hostility exists between militant integrationists and mili- tant separatists. In fact, though, the most effective and sustained Opposition to the integrationists comes from the moderate separatists. From the formation of PACE, to the recalling of white and black integrationists on the school board, to the subsequent election of one of their own lead- ers, the moderate separatists have most effectively organized in opposition to the militant integrationists. Moderate separatists sometimes use language similar to their more militant brethren both in rejecting integra- tion goals and in describing their own goals of deve10pment- in-the-ghetto and community control. However, the moderates differ from the militants in four main ways: (1) moderates 92 HOOOE coflmmcoo .H lemme opossumcH x anoamz auflczEEoo Imam as coflumufl Icmmuo ucmcmfiumm Aamom msumum 3mcv Houucoo muscSEEoo HMOAUMH mo acme Icflmuum mumapmfififl mBmHefimfimMm BZflBHAHE .mflcmnwpmoq Hmooq cofluflamoo humHOQEop .m HOUOE. coflmocoo .H mofluso Hoooz Upton Hoocom mufim mcoflufiamoo >MMHOQEmu cofipmNficmmno stmmfl >paGDEEOOQsm pom cassava: an up Honucoo huflcseaoo pouflafla mBmHfiflmfimmm mammmooz mo mmoHOQ>BII.H mnsmflm HOUOE ummpoum UODHEHH .N HOUOE oosussmoo .H mcoflcs mononsco xomam mmflpfio Hopoz dammed Gonna coaumfluomoc w cowufiamoo pcmEQOHm>mp oHEocoom cam wumeflpas so no codpmummucfi mBMHZOHfideMBZH BZHBU¢ m0 mDUOQ mZ¢m2 mmuzmthmmm A400 ~- 93 do not suggest violence as an appropriate means to their ends;* (2) moderates seem less intense in their adherence to stated goals; (3) moderates are willing to work with whites in temporary coalitions; and (4) moderates, as described earlier, differ in terms of time orientations and increments of policy change found acceptable. Therefore, unlike the militant separatists, mod- erates speak of the autonomy of the black subcommunity as an ultimate end toward which they are gradually moving; but the intensity and clarity with which they articulate the content of these formal goals is much less than for the militants** (a situation which is reversed when the inter- views move to the topic of the means to be used). Indeed, the borrowed quality found in many of the ideas of the moderate separatists suggests the division of labor at this end Of the leadership spectrum: though they see them- selves as bold street leaders, in fact the militant sep- aratists seem mainly responsible for the abstract formulation of separatist goals--formulations usually paralleling the national currents of black nationalist rhetoric and litera- ture. A version of these goals is carried to the moderates *It is this characteristic--plus the seeming congru- ence of some separatists' ends and white conservative preferences--which allows whites publicly to ally themselves with moderate separatists. **For example, in a typical conversation with an informant who would be classified as a moderate separatist, she was asked if "independence" for the black community—- which she stated as her goal--meant the black area in the city would become a separate sovereignty. The response was simply, "I haven't thought about that." 94 through their direct involvement (often as part of their jobs) in the black subcommunity,* since this involvement frequently brings them into contact with young blacks. In turn, moderates adopt somewhat watered-down versions of militant separatist goals, thereby, for example, converting nationalist analyses of land as the basis of independence into moderate calls for neighborhood-controlled schools. The moderate integrationists, on the other hand, are an example of what Crain viewed as a welfare-orientation toward the old status goals of integration.** They, too, have an "incrementalist" approach to policy change, and long time perspectives. Their adherence to the integra- tion goals of the militants seems largely pro forma. When asked to discuss the content Of these goals, their responses tend to be brief and non-specific. For them, integration seems to be a "given"--a preferred state which helps explain and orient the more immediate activities with which they are mainly concerned. Interviews with these leaders quickly veer into discussions of these "practical matters." When separatist goals are rejected it is not generally because Of some implicit view of a preferred society or because separatists' goals are wrong in principle--the usual argu- ments among militant integrationists--but because, in the words of one moderate, "they just won't work."9 Unlike both *Chapter V contrasts the institutional positions of differing leadership types. **See p. 61, Chapter I. 95 types of militants, then, the moderates generally are some— what "fuzzy" about their goals; in interviews they tend only to state their goals, to accept them as unexplored "givens," and to be much more interested in other topics. Means Variations also occur in the tactics/means used and advocated by differing leadership types. For the militant integrationists "infiltration,"* coalition and legal action are emphasized. The process of infiltration has been most marked in the educational system; thus, the pressures of the local NAACP for school integration have been conven- iently directed to a system which had a black member on its board, a black attorney (who was simultaneously an attorney for the NAACP), and a number of black school administrators. The militant integrationists have also found it desirable to work in tandem with sympathetic whites and mainly white organizations. These coalitions Often have been only implicit and few have been based on any formal exchange relationships; most frequently the coalitions have been based simply on shared agreement on the principle of school integration.** When infiltration and coalition have failed, the militants have turned to the courts, successfully drawing *See pp. 186-188, Chapter III. **As argued below, the coalition between whites and moderate separatists is quite different in nature; this chapter, p. 97. «a .\. 4.. 96 upon considerable legal talent and devising sophisticated strategies. In contrast, moderate integrationists--though accepting the desirability of school integration—-tend to focus their activity in the economic sphere. Over the past six years, these leaders have been concerned mainly with such matters as integrating the central business district work force, launching apprenticeship and work-training programs and increasing the number Of blacks employed in local construction projects. All these efforts are viewed as bringing the Negro into the "economic mainstream." Even the initiation of MEDCOL (a black-run laundry funded by Model Cities)--which could logically be viewed as developing a separate black economic base--is seen instead as a chance "to develop administrative skills which should lead to good jobs."lo Moderate integrationists in effect adopt a chain of means: economic deve10pment is the main means for achieving integration,ll while coalition and negotiation are the appropriate tactics for gaining economic deve10pment. The coalitions associated with these leaders range from the unions to the interests represented on the Urban League's Board of Directors, and can sometimes act as constraints on leadership behavior. Perhaps as a result, the moderate integrationist tends to adopt a careful "negotiating style" in his rhetoric and actions. However, moderate integrationists 97 often are institutionally located so as to be quite suscep- tible to pressures from whites. It is in part to avoid these potential pressures that separatists prefer the tactic of organization in the black subcommunity. However, to this point, the militant separatists have been able to organize only a rather tenuous constituency among young blacks in the subcommunity, while the moderates have developed short-run organizations repre- senting a broader section of the subcommunity. Though the militants have a strong ideological commitment to permanent organization as Egg means Of mobilizing the subcommunity, the moderates have usually only developed temporary issue— organizations such as PACE, which Opposed integrationist plans for the schools. However, the fact that moderate separatists sometimes Egg able to organize on such issues in the subcommunity is evidence that there presumably is a black constituency Opposed to the busing-integration goals of the militant integrationists. Perhaps ironically for those moderates desiring a form of separate deve10pment for the black subcommunity, temporary coalitions with whites have proved essential to their goals. Thus, the strange alchemy of time and events has recently allowed blacks to work with the "conservative" Citizens for Neighborhood Schools, thereby legitimating the organization's efforts as non-racist, while the goals of the CNS presumably allowed for the deve10pment Of community- controlled all-black schools. Clearly though, as revealed 98 in the interviews, coalitions are still viewed somewhat dif— ferently by differing leadership types: for both militant and moderate integrationists white-black coalitions of various kinds are seen as not only useful, but proper, given the integration goal; in a sense, these coalitions are pre- cursors Of the integrated states for which the coalitions are presumably striving; on the other hand, the moderate separatists tended to view their coalitions ppiy instru- mentally--the coalitions being seen as both useful and temporary, but nothing more. White-black coalitions are a means implicit in integrationist ends, but this is not the case for separatists. Locus of Activity Since, as we have seen, some leaders are most con- cerned with issues of school integration, some with economic development and others with organization in the subcommunity, the locus Of leadership activity varies across the typology. Conflicts between leadership types are minimized by these partially separated issue-institutional areas. For example, militant integrationists and separatists do not contest for control Of the NAACP or representation on the local school board; in each case, militant separatists have viewed these institutions as basically irrelevant to their immediate purposes--just as integrationists are not eager to gain control of the Malcolm X Institute. As a result, conflicts between differing militant types are largely confined to rhetorical "put—downs" and, in fact, most of the leaders 99 at opposite ends of the leadership typology do not even know each other personally (though they certainly know pf each other). However, leadership conflict does occur in two main situations: (1) where different leadership types become active in the same issue-institutional area and (2) where similar leadership types from widely disparate backgrounds are forced to work together. The first condition has occurred in the local school board, and in the Model Cities program, as is apparent on p. 92. A moderate separatist actually helped lead a campaign to recall integrationists (including a black) on the school board, and was then elected himself to the same position. The situation also occurs in the Model Cities Agency when leaders with different goals are sometimes forced into contact. Here the separatists scorn the integrationists as, at best, "conservatives," while in the accurate words of one local party official, "the bourgeoise blacks look at Model Cities with horror for giving all that money to radicals."11 The other condition applies when leaders who are similar on preferred goals and means but different in terms of occupational activity work together on various projects. The relationships between black union Officials and min- isters who have worked together are representative Of this pattern. While ministers generally phrased their complaints rather delicately ("the union people are used to working against somebody they have to negotiate with, so sometimes 100 they jump the gun a little"12), some black union officials are more blunt in their assessment of the black ministers: . . . the ministers are the only ones with a potential mass base. The only problem is that they don't have all their marbles. We found out they didn't know what they were doing. People get involved with them and then get fucked over. . . . They are stupid. . Nevertheless, the separate loci of leadership activity help to minimize overt conflicts, and even lead, in some cases, to a rough division of labor. Thus, while the mili- tant integrationists can center their activities on behalf of school integration in the school board and the NAACP, the moderate integrationists try to develop economic resources through the Urban League and the occasional activities of the unions, with the black churches playing a supportive role; and while the moderate separationists work for even- tual community control through temporary coalitions with whites and issue-organizations in the subcommunity the mili- tant separatists are given a free hand to organize on a permanent basis in the black area Of the city. Models During the interviews statements Of means and ends were probed in order to get at the logic underlying specific positions. In some cases there was none, but for the most articulate leaders there are abstract models of action which clearly governed their specific comments and actions. These models are included in the typology both because they varied by leadership type, and also because they stated some of the key differences among these leaders. Models of protest,14 101 coalition and cohesion underlie leadership activities in Central City. The main assumption underlying the protest model is that blacks in Central City and elsewhere are politically powerless. To gain entrance into the system Of bargaining relationships which characterizes local politics, blacks need resources with which to bargain. Having few of the conventional resources to exchange, blacks try to structure a protest situation so as to create those resources, as King did throughout the South in the last decade. A protest sit- uation gains these ends mainly by enlarging the number of people involved in a given conflict--in Schattschneider's phrase, expanding the scope of participation.15 Through the publicity and drama attendant to a well-organized protest, varying publics can at least be made aware that there is an issue on which they may take sides. The key to the success of the protest (though this differs for protests conducted under the aegis of the cohesion model, see below) is the eventual mobilization of those publics which can bring pres- sure to bear upon Officials from whom the protestors desire policy changes. if protest can mobilize these publics (white liberals, church leaders, businessmen, etc.), then protest leaders have created new political resources for themselves; thus, these leaders have something with which to bargain, e.g., if certain policy changes are conceded, protest leaders will then call Off the protest and, presumably, end the pressures from publics or persons excited by the protest. n 102 This model of action is fairly indirect, depending for its success, as it does, upon the arousal Of persons outside the initial group Of protestors. Hence, a course Of action which at first might appear simple--for example, getting fifteen people to picket city hall or sit-in at a store--is, in fact, a complex process involving protest constituencies, publics which may "enter" the protest, and those being protested against (not to mention the role Of the communications media). Successful use of this model demands sophisticated leadership--which has been the main difficulty in local protests by blacks. The coalition model can be used in conjunction with or as an alternative to the protest model (in Central City, usually the latter). Quite simply, the adherents of this model call for a coalition of differing groups, black and white; these groups (labor, liberals, blacks, etc.) work together for presumably shared ends, aiming their collective influence at specific targets--policy-makers or institutions.* These groups can be "coalitions of principle"--coalitions based mainly on shared ideologies or specific principles-- ”exchange coalitions"--coalitions based on the resources members can explicitly exchange with each other (possibly resources made available by achieving the coalition's spe- cific goals)--or coalitions Of a mixed type, with both shared ideologies and exchange relationships. *A national example of such a coalition is the col- lection of allied groups which successfully pushed through the Civil Rights Act of 1965. 103 However, to local separatists both protest and coali- tion models share a common failing in their dependency on whites: while protestors are seen as depending upon whites implicitly allying themselves with the specific "cause" of the protest, coalitionists are viewed as dependent upon the explicit support of whites in the coalition. The reasoning by local separatists is that whites--who are racists--cannot and, as a matter of principle, should not be depended upon for support of black efforts. Instead, the proper model for action is that of building cohesion and solidarity in the black subcommunity itself. For this end, white publics and coalition members are irrelevant. In Central City the militant separatists have used two main methods for furthering cohesion: one is to build separate black institutions within the subcommunity—- institutions which do not depend on white largess or support* and which are seen as eventually providing an independent power base from which "non-dependent" black leaders can "deal" with white authorities.l6 Another method is to con- tinue formally to aim protests at these white authorities, but to use this protest primarily as a means of building solidarity in the subcommunity by arousing young blacks and generally "raising consciousness" in the subcommunity——in short, using protest means for cohesion ends. These organ- izational efforts to further "cohesion" do not require that *Reality being less tidy than models, these institu- tions actually gp_depend on "white" funding--though this feature is not emphasized by local militants. 104 black rhetoric and goals be congruent with or acceptable to the desires of whites——as in the protest and coalition models. In contrast, separatist leaders using a cohesion model are "freed" from white restraints and can use which- ever means or forms of rhetoric prove most effective in the subcommunity itself. Both forms of this cohesion model have been used in Central City: thus a "sit-in" was organized at a local high school in order to mobilize young blacks in the subcommu- nity, and the Malcolm X Institute has taken as its task the development of a black-controlled power base in the subcom— munity. As discussed earlier, moderate separatists have found themselves in a situation where organizational and electoral coalitions with whites have proved useful. Though the militants stoutly continue to resist such means, the moderates View these temporary coalitions as the means to creating a more "independent"17 black subcommunity. In the past, moderate integrationists have tried a limited version of the protest model. In order to force downtown stores to hire more blacks, local ministers threatened a black boycott of the stores, and daily picket- ing of the stores during the Easter season, with the possi- bility Of civil disobedience. The director of the Human Relations Commission (also a black) obtained promises that the stores would hire more blacks in the future (a few did) and persuaded the black ministers to call Off their protest. The brief incident illustrates the leadership skills necessary .., 105 for implementation Of a protest model. Seemingly, the black ministers fell short--it is debatable whether they would have been able to sustain a protest, they were unable to mobilize much white support and they settled for minimal promises of future action. The protest did not seem to have been carefully thought through by the ministers in advance of their "threat." Basically though, all Of the integrationist leaders give at least verbal priority to the coalition model. Most Of the resulting coalitions have been based upon shared principles, rather than extensive exchange relationships. For some of the militant integrationists a brief "let down"18 followed the failure of the "pro—busing" coalition to achieve its desired ends, but these leaders then turned to legal action. None Of these models is "original" in the thought of local leaders,* but they do represent the more general strat- egies for change underlying the specific actions of differ- ing leadership types. ‘The main conflict of ideas for local blacks is between the coalition model favored by all inte- grationists and the cohesion model pushed by the young sep- aratists. However, in a sense, both of these models can be said to have failed in their local implementation. For separatists--faced with all the constraints of numbers, skills and resources traced in the next chapter—-the cohesion *The antecedents of these models can be found in the work of King, Rustin and the black nationalists. 106 model has yet to produce any situation even vaguely resembling an autonomous subcommunity controlling its own institutions; and for integrationists-~faced with the fading of local white support and the strength Of anti-busing sentiment--the coali- tion model has not proved out in the conflict over school integration. Research Methods Before examining the leadership types in detail, it would be useful to summarize the methods used in this research.* The research had four main stages: the "familiar- izing" phase, the informant interviews, the leadership inter- views and the collection Of quantitative data through a standardized questionnaire. Each stage of the research made possible the next stage—-the familiarizing process leading one to know whom to talk with and about what, the informant interviews develOping background information and selecting out leaders and the leadership interviews leading into the use of the questionnaire. In a sense, what is called here the familiarizing process was both the most important facet of research con- ducted in a specific locality and also the hardest to des- cribe. It is difficult to describe because it was the research stage responsible for giving one a "feel" for some of the intangible factors which affected the leaders to be *For descriptions and discussion of the varying methods used in other research on urban black leadership, see Chapter I. 107 studied, e.g., what were the prevailing expectations as to how local leaders will and should behave? Why were some groups respected and others scorned? What were the main issues Of controversy in the subcommunity? This familiar- izing process included a range of activities--Observing the public behavior of the black city councilman, attending NAACP meetings and the larger church meetings during the busing controversy, reading the local black paper, spend— ing time in conversations with Model Cities staff, and so on. However, this familiarizing process also involved the col- lection and analysis Of relevant census and other data describing the black subcommunity. When coupled with infor- mant discussion on such matters as relations with the police and problems concerning education, housing and highways, these data were used to describe and analyze the local political environment, and the availability or scarcity Of differing resources for local black leadership. This dis- cussion is the subject of Chapter III. The information acquired during the "familiarizing process" provided a means of checking later information from the formal interviews. It soon became apparent that many of the "stories" shared in the subcommunity varied considerably from one account to another (for instance, there were at least three main versions of the events leading to the high school sit-in of the recent past). However most persons seemed in general agreement with the names concurrently being suggested in informant interviews as "outstanding 108 leaders." Given the central importance of the informant and leadership interviews in this research, these conversations also assisted the interviewer in later perceiving possible shadings of fact by those formally interviewed. The sense of context provided by the familiarizing process allowed one to know that a Model Cities board member discoursing upon his "independence of mind" was, in fact, generally viewed as being controlled by another leader in the subcommunity, or that a minister claiming Martin Luther King as his role model really never participated in or even attended nightly meetings. In sum, the sense of context provided by this process of becoming familiar with the local subcommunity made possible the more formal stages Of research; The second stage of research consisted of a series of interviews with informants--those persons whom one had reason to believe were knowledgeable about or had informa— tion on local leadership and the nature of the subcommunity. These interviews had three purposes: (1) the further gather- ing of the kinds of contextual information referred to above; (2) discussion of recent events in which local leaders had been involved--the high school sit-in, the controversies over Model Cities, and especially the busing issue and (3) the selection of persons thought by the informants to be leaders in Central City's black subcommunity. Each informant was promised confidential status. Although this promise was initially viewed as a routine step in this type of research, it turned out to be an 109 important one. As a result of uneasiness over discussing black leaders with a white interviewer but also as a result Of rumored "undercover work" by local police concerned with drug traffic on the city's West side, some informants were originally suspicious when approached for an interview.* In addition, some claimed their identities had been revealed by previous academic research (though these stories may have been apocryphal, Central City is located close to a suburb with a large university).** However, once interviewed, most informants were candid to the point Of not only dis- cussing events and leaders in the city, but also passing along much unsubstantiated gossip about the sexual and economic peccadillos Of local leaders. Interviews ranged in length from twenty minutes to about four hours,*** and usually averaged about seventy-five minutes. *Some incidents were both amusing and frustrating. One informant refused to review over the telephone comments made in her interview, claiming the phone was tapped. Another informant was the subject of three letters and four phone calls before finally agreeing to an interview. Fre- quently informants would muse over "whether I should be telling you this stuff"--"stuff" which Often seemed fairly innocuous. Interestingly, most white informants did not press for assurances of anonymity-~but almost all black informants did so. **Specifically, three informants claimed that earlier research--described by one as a "computer study"--had vio- lated their confidences. ***The longest interview with an informant took place over three separate meetings. The interviewee had lived his entire life in the city, and was eager to recount what he knew of local black history; unfortunately, one of the leaders he selected as "outstanding" later proved to be dead. The shortest interview (twenty minutes) was with the black head of an important city agency who had been informed by 110 Initially, a list Of possible informants was devel- oped on the basis of formal organizational listings, news- paper accounts and what the researcher already knew about persons involved in various ways with the local subcommu- nity (for example, university personnel who worked and did research in Central City, active lawyers, etc.). In turn, almost all informants suggested ptppg informants, and the information from the interviewing process began to accumu- late. As a by-product of this relatively lengthy process (62 informant interviews), over time one could probe cer- tain areas where information seemed scarce, devise increas- ingly more detailed questions about specific events and leaders and tentatively develop and then reject or refine propositions about local leadership. Thus, this stage of the research was crucial in the development Of an empirically based categoric typology of local black leaders. In form, this phase of research resembles the "cobweb" method of which Dahl speaks: [The researcher] would begin with some individual . . . have him describe his picture of the community . . . . He would thus have the names of [additional] people. . . . He would then interview these individuals, who would give him further names and descriptions, and so on, until he, or they, or his time,* or his funds, or his bourbon were exhausted.19 her secretary--for unknown reasons-~that the interviewer was there to arrange a university conference on black leadership-- featuring the agency and its leader. When it was discovered that this was not the intent, the interview was rather abruptly terminated. *In this case, time pressures, not bourbon, ended the informant interviews at a point at which most of the information was becoming repetitive. 111 Great care was taken to weave a symmetrical web, e.g., to interview informants from varied background which represented differing interests or institutions. It was apparent that interviews solely with Urban League or NAACP representatives would greatly influence the types of per- sons being selected as leaders; for example, in this case certain persons did not qualify as leaders in the eyes of the integrationists--the leader of a sit-in, a young organ- izer for what was viewed as a "black power group,‘ and a woman who initiated a local branch Of the National Welfare Rights Organization (all of whom appear on the final leader- ship list, see p. 117). In turn, leaders Of such prominent groups as the NAACP and the Urban League were also disquali- fied as "real" leaders by some other informants.* In both instances differing implicit concepts of leadership seemed to be applied. On the one hand, for some informants, "middle class Negroes can't be leaders because they're not close enough to the black community," while for other informants "those few radicals don't lead anyone anywhere--they're just hot air and a lot Of talk."20 One group viewed leadership as the task of gathering a mass following--usua11y through organization in the sub- community (a concept consistent with the cohesion model); *The ideological criterion perhaps underlying these choices is shown by the comment made by a person who was asked ppy he had excluded all individuals associated with the NAACP or Urban League from his list: "Because they're non-relevant [sic] organizations and can't do much for black people." However, it should be noted that some indi- viduals were named on almost all leadership lists, see p..ll7. ,. .. .‘K\ \ 112 the other group of informants seemingly accepted a wider range of leadership functions--negotiating and bargaining, acting as spokesman, raising money, directly influencing policy "behind the scenes" and so on.* To have interviewed only those accepting one or the other of these standards would have meant a final leadership list composed almost entirely of either community-organizer types (Of whom there are relatively few in Central City) or those who were judged to be leaders by virtue of their organizational positions or activities in conventional politics.** In order to avoid "defining away" differing leadership types the sample of informants interviewed had to include a wide range of *These differing concepts of leadership were also very clearly associated with differing leadership types, as discussed in Chapter V. The initial hypothesis that differ- ing types of leaders self-consciously would conceptualize leadership in differing ways derived from the series of informant interviews. **The assumption here is that not only those persons with mass followings may be viewed as leaders. As in Wilson's research in Chicago, black leaders in Central City seem to perfom a variety of functions from "spokesman" to "negotiator" to "organizer," and not all of these functions necessitate a mass following. Narrow definitions of subcommunity leader- ship sometimes constrict research to a few types deemed "legitimate" leaders-~see comments on Alinsky and Wilson, pp. 58-59, Chapter I. One past study in Central City labeled as a "non-leader" a black politician with a largely white constituency--the rationale being that the "non-leader" was thus not free to act as a race leader (R. William Holland, "School Desegregation and Community Conflict" [unpublished dissertation, 1972], PP. 59 and 61). However, there is no apparent reason for all local black leaders to fit the mold of "race leader"; indeed, doing so in Central City would be difficult. In fact, this particular "non-leader" was selected as an "outstanding leader" by more informants than any other, is one of the key "behind the scenes," non-public negotiators on behalf of certain black interests, and is the main public gpd private source of resistance to the Mayor's efforts to take over the black-directed Model Cities agency. 113 activities and perspectives. Thus, the informants ranged from a Black Muslim* and a youth who claimed to have organ- ized the 1971 "riot" (see pp. 165-168, Chapter III), to black ministers, union officials and a woman who led resis- tance to the I—96 highway (pp. 154-156, Chapter III), to the individuals associated with the two main black organi- zations in the city--the NAACP and the Urban League. Informant interviews were used rather than the panel technique so Often used in the past to select local leaders. The use of a panel to select leaders in the Central City black subcommunity would have raised major problems. One difficulty would have been the possibility that a panel of "experts" might select leaders only on the basis of repu- tation, rather than actual leadership activities. In con- trast, the use of informant interviews allowed the inter- viewer to probe for the specific kinds of activities/ behaviors which led to particular individuals being selected as leaders. In addition, the large number of interviews allowed for the inclusion of perspectives not easily repre- sented in the much smaller panel. A small panel would have had not only the problem of conflicting views Of what leadership is, as discussed above, but also the related problem of issue-area leadership: many of the informants--and the leaders selected--were active only in a given issue-area (school affairs, Model Cities politics, *The Muslims are a very small and relatively non- vocal group in the local subcommunity. None of their mem- bers were cited as leaders or activists. 114 Urban League programs, etc.), and not across the whole range Of issues and problems which concerned blacks in Central City. As a result, some informants simply did not know of leaders active in issue-areas with which they were unfamiliar --a pattern which emerged not only from informants' comments, but from leadership interviews as well. Finally, the usual research purpose behind the use of panels of supposed "knowl- edgeables" is the analysis of a community "power structure." However, the main goal of the informant interviews was the deve10pment Of a categoric typology of black leadership. The central concern was not so much with the hierarchies of a power structure as with the range and distribution of dif- fering leadership types in the city. In short, information about black leaders in Central City was collected in a series of informant intervieWs rather than through the use of a panel not only because of the traditional difficulties with the panel technique, but also because Of the lack of a clear local consensus as to what a leader was and was not, the existence of leadership specific to only some issue-areas and the difference in research goals between this research and studies which have utilized panels. In the first informant interviews, only verbal responses were recorded in developing a list of those selected as local leaders. Later, however, a list of the names most often mentioned was used and, after their initial comments on local leaders, informants were asked to evaluate 115 the persons on this list (see Appendix A). Informants were told that Negro leaders were "those able to make decisions or formulate policies significantly affecting racial prob- lems and issues in Lansing's black community." This "effects" or "impacts" element of leadership was defini- tionally emphasized in an effort to persuade informants to select persons they considered to be "outstanding leaders," rather than to develop an exhaustive list Of all possible leaders, including marginal cases. In compiling a final list, each informant selection was treated as a single "vote" for a given leader.* These "votes" distributed themselves in such a way as to indicate with some clarity which persons generally were considered important black leaders in the city. This distribution is shown on p. 117. At one time or another eighty-seven different names were suggested as leaders, though most individuals were men- tioned only a few times or by only one interviewee. The final listing consists of all those selected as "outstanding leaders (see instruction in Appendix A)" by one-third or more of all informants; below the one-third "cut-off," *Though it might have been possible to weight these "votes" in a variety of ways, these Options were finally rejected as unwise. While the criteria for weighting some selections more heavily than others all involved highly subjective assessments concerning informants' knowledge, candor or experience, the selections themselves represented the considered judgments of a large number of people from varying backgrounds. Therefore, since the informant sample seemed adequate and weighting would Open a methodological pandora's box, each selection was finally counted as one "vote." 116 selections were scattered among a number of individuals, each drawing a few selections. On some leaders there was comparatively clear con- sensus (the top three were selected by 84.2%, 73.7% and 62.1% of informants, respectively), while other selections seemed more problematic (Muhammed being selected by only one-third of informants, for example). On this final list, there is a relative paucity of "street leaders" (four out of seventeen)--blacks who create their own followings and organizations in the subcommunity itself.* It is possible that the informant sample was skewed in some way, or that informants considered only those men Of consequence with the most immediate influence upon the subcommunity. However, consistent with the data and arguments of the next chapter, it seems more likely that the Central City "political environment"--the constraints and opportunities of the local political and economic structure, and the resources present or absent in the subcommunity itself--makes some bases for leadership more available than others. Most local black leadership is based upon associations with existing institu- tions or organizations, ranging from the NAACP to Model Cities, rather than the organization of mass followings in the subcommunity; given its size, disintegration and minimal institutional network, the black subcommunity by itself does *This mode of leadership is close to Hemphill's description of the main activity of all leadership as "the initiation of structure," p. 64. NAME* * James Faraday Eugene Nelson Harriet Campbell Josephine Warrick George Graeber Tom Wilson Rev. Johnson Johnny Washington Robert Jones J. C. Wilson Lloyd Thompson Ed Lawson Willene Easton Hattie Hosler Cavanaugh Smith Kensha Muhammed *Of 62 interviews,in five, 117 SELECTION* 48 42 36 30 29 29 28 27 27 27 26 25 24 23 21 19 ACTIVITY City councilman State representative (Former) member, board of education Director, Model Cities Attorney Human Relations Commission Minister, Baptist Church EqualflOpportunity‘ Officer, State Housing Authority NAACP president Board of education Model Cities policy board Hodcarriers union Negro businesswomen's committee Model Cities staff Urban League Malcolm X Institute leaders were not selected; the highest possible total would be 57 selections. **Names have been changed to preserve anonymity. Figure 2.--Leadership List. .5. ~ 118 not offer a particularly inviting basis for leadership (see discussion in following chapter, pp. 182-192). The third stage of the research consisted of semi- structured interviews* with the leaders selected. The purpose of these interviews was to develop a further basis for the categoric typology of local leadership. Thus, the interviews focused on goals-means differences between leaders and their activities in specific issue-areas. The interviews can be classified as semi-structured in that clear priorities were established for each interview (goals- means-activity on busing issue), while Open—ended questions encouraged interviewees to speak freely on the selected subjects. These interviews seem similar in form to those conducted by Wilson in Negro Politics.21 All leaders were questioned in particular detail about their roles in the local integration-busing controversy. A case study of black leadership roles on this issue is the subject of Chapter VI. The busing controversy proved especially appropriate to local leadership research because (1) it provided a test of whether informant-selected leaders actually were "active" on this highly salient issue;(2) it was an issue which most clearly distinguished leadership types in terms Of goals and means; and (3) it was an issue which began to reveal some of the previously muted conflicts among Central City black leadership. *The methodological bible for this elite interviewing was Lewis Anthony Dexter's, Elite and Specialized Interview- ing (Evanston, 1970). 119 Finally, a questionnaire was distributed to all leaders interviewed (see Appendix B). The division of labor between interview and questionnaire was such that the inter- view focused on goals, tactics and issue activity, while the questionnaire sought to collect demographic data and to test for attitudinal changes over time. The questionnaire thus contains a demographic section (age, education, income, etc.), an expanded version Of the Crain militancy scale,22 and questions concerning social and leadership contacts with whites. All leaders were also asked for their selections of other local black leaders; this question was again intended both as a further check on informant selections and as a test of relations between differing leadership types. The next chapter considers in detail the local envi- ronment in which all the leadership types must Operate. The environmental variables of migration, population, education, income, employment and political structure are important in that they lead to a preponderance of certain types of local black leaders and make some leadership strategies seem more promising than others. ‘1 o D 1 n I o 4 n a u q u a a a a Q ~ v \ ~ 4 5 FOOTNOTES 1In terms of future research analyzing/typologizing urban black leadership, two broad alternatives seem possible: one possibility is to continue the production of locality- specific typologies--as seemingly done in Atlanta, Durham, Chicago, Los Angeles, etc. Though this pattern of research might not be immediately productive in developing explicit theories of urban black leadership, continual comparison of the analyses developed might be useful. However, another broad alternative is to re-direct research in black leader- ship, turning it to a deeper analysis of those factors of "time and place"--local political and economic structures, city size, available resources in the subcommunity and so on--which in their variations may produce differing types of black leadership. In short, city and subcommunity char- acteristics, often either ignored or treated in most of the research as merely contextual, might instead be considered as independent variables, in effect "producing" differing leadership types; indeed, a typology of "political environ- ments" in the future might prove more relevant than the continued repetition of local research analyzing black leaders in a manner so constrained by time and place. For an example of exploratory work in political environments, see Peter K. Eisinger, "The Conditions Of Protest Behavior in American Cities," American Political Science Review (March, 1973), pp. 11-28. These issues are discussed at greater length in the final chapter. 2See Chapter III on subcommunity characteristics. 3See Chapter I, p. 31. 41bid. 5Other typologies are discussed in Chapter I, pp. 30-47. 6Informant interview. 71.129- 8Both comments from informant interviews. 9Informant interview. 109E. llibid. 121 lZIbid. l3Ibid. 14Remarks on the protest model are derived from Michael Lipsky, Protest in City Politics (New York, 1968). 15E. E. Schattschneider, The Semi—Sovereign People (New York, 1960). l6Paraphrase of separatist comments in interviews. l7Informant interviews. lBlEiQ. 19Robert A. Dahl, "Hierarchy, Democracy, and Bargain- ing in Politics and Economics," in Research Frontiers in Politics and Government, Brookings Lectures Of 1955 (Brook- ings Institution, 1955), p. 52. 20Informant interviews. 21The brief description of Wilson's methodology is in Negro Politics, pp. 10-11. 22Robert L. Crain, et al., The Politics of School Desegregation (New York, 1969), P. 350. CHAPTER III SUBCOMMUNITY CHARACTERISTICS AND LOCAL LEADERSHIP The demographic characteristics of Central City's black subcommunity help to determine the resources avail- able to local leaders. Resourceful leaders can loosen existing constraints by raising issues, causing crises and building organizations, but the shape of a given subcommu- nity usually sets the boundaries within which leaders must act and choose. Most simply, a black population which is both small and poor generally leaves less scope for local leadership initiative than one which is large and increas- ingly prosperous. The presence or absence of various resources--such as numbers, organization or money--usually influences the choice of goals and means by leaders as well as the types of leaders likely to emerge in the subcommunity. This chapter considers how the shape of Central City's black subcommunity establishes constraints and possi- bilities for would-be leaders by examining in detail subcom- munity characteristics in terms Of migration, employment and income, education, housing, relations with the local police and the patterns of city politics. How a subcommunity which is low in autonomy and affords only a tenuous organizational 122 123 base affects differing types of leaders and their selection of strategies is discussed in the conclusion. Black Migration to Central City Table 1 shows the gradual growth of Central City's black population. Local blacks started with an extremely small base (only 13 Negroes in 1850) which then increased gradually as a percentage of the city population until 1890. Though its total numbers increased after the turn Of the century, the black population did not increase at as fast a rate as the total population of the city, moving only from 1.0% of the Central City population in 1850 to 1.1% in 1910. Most of the black migrants at this time came from within the state, not from the deep south.l There was a large enough population for blacks to establish two churches and a few rooming houses and eating places, but their low numbers in the total population posed no political or economic threat to the white pOpulation. Thus, while Negroes held traditional jobs as garbage collectors, street cleaners and general service workers, they lived in clusters of modest dwellings within racially mixed neighborhoods and were not barred from public facilities.2 The rate of total population growth in the city reached its peak in 1920, and has since grown more slowly,* while in every decade since 1910 local blacks have increased *Indeed, most Of the increase in total population for the last three decades has come from annexation of out- lying areas. 124 Table l.--Black population growth in Central City: 1850-1970. Year Total Population Negro Population Percent Negro 1850 1,229 13 1.0 1860 3,074 27 0.9 1870 5,241 77 1.5 1880 8,319 208 2.5 1890 13,102 341 2.6 1900 16,485 323 2.0 1910 31,229 354 1.1 1920 57,327 698 1.2 1930 78,397 1,409 1.8 1940 78,753 1,638 2.1 1950 92,129 2,971 3.3 1960 107,805 6,745 6.3 1970 131,546 12,234 9.3 Source: U.S. Census of Population, 1850-1970. more rapidly. Post-war increases in in-migration account for much of the increased growth rate in Central City's black population. In 1917 blacks from the deep south began arriving in search of improved employment. Their numbers remained small until 1919 when more migrants arrived from Tennessee, Mississippi, South Carolina and Arkansas--not only quickly doubling the size of the black subcommunity, but also changing its composition from predominantly "accul- turated" northern blacks to rural southern blacks. Again, Negro migration to Central City reached a peak in the three years following the end Of World War II, and between 1952- 1955, following the Korean War. Most of the migrants con- tinued to come from southern states.3 The traditional push-pull pattern for Negro migration seems to apply to Central City blacks. In a study 125 of black families migrating to the city between 1940-1950, the three push factors most often cited were the inequities of the southern sharecropping system, the low wagesin the south and the unemployment resulting from increased use of new farm machinery.4 The pull factors were the chance for factory jobs in the north and the presence of relatives in Central City. The presence of friends or relatives generally seems to have been more important for blacks than whites in deciding to move to Central City, as Table 2 demonstrates. Table 2.--Comparison of reasons given for moving to Central City, by race. Reasons Given Percent White Percent Non-White Job opportunities or transferred by work 79 48 Family and/or friends lived here 14 45 For children's sake 0 4 Married mate living in Lansing 2 O No special reason 5 3 Source: Housing Study for Central City Community Renewal Program, 1968. Today, about 45% of the city's black population has migrated from other states, and most migrants still come from the south (see Table 3). However, near-by cities with larger black populations (Flint and Detroit in Table 3) 126 have somewhat higher proportions of their black populations coming from the south. Table 3.—-Residentia1 mobility for Negro populations in Central City, Detroit and Flint, 1970. Central City Detroit Flint Total black population 12,234 660,524 54,250 Percent born in different state 44.9 40.8 48.2 Percent of persons born in different state coming from: Northeast States 1.4 3.0 1 7 North Central States 16.7 8.2 9.2 Southern States 81.8 87.9 88.1 Western States 0.8 0.9 1.0 Source: "Social Characteristics of the Negro Population for Areas and Places, in General Social and Economic Characteristics, 1970. In addition, the black population of Central City shows a very different pattern of age-grading than present for U.S. urban non-whites. For example, in each age category in Table 4 (after five years of age), Central City's blacks have a higher percentage of older people; the general dis- tribution of ages for urban non-whites populations is tilted towards youthful categories--in comparison, Central City's black population is somewhat "older." There is also evi- dence that the later streams of black migration to Central City have brought in higher status blacks than the previous 127 migrants from the south. Tables 5 and 6 compare migrant and resident populations, finding the former group higher on educational and occupational measures, particularly those persons coming from Standard Metropolitan Statistical Areas rather than non-metropolitan or rural environs.6 Table 4.--Comparison of age-groupings, U.S. urban non-whites and Central City non-whites, 1970. ____.__—— -—.———— ~-._ .— .~___... .. ___. Penxmt Penxmt .Agea Central City Non4Whites U.S. Urban.Non4White Under 5 years 14.0 50.5 5-14 years 26.6 11.5 15-24 years 19.3 11.5 25-34 years 13.8 7.4 35-44 years 10.5 5.6 45-54 years 7.1 4.7 55-64 years 5.0 3.5 65 years and over 3.7 2.5 Source: "Social Characteristics of the Negro Population for Areas and Places," in General Social and Economic Characteristics, 1970. Table 5.--Percentage of Negroes completing one or more years of high school, by migration status, in Central City, 1955- 1960. , , In-Mi rants From Ndn+hgnmfis. TbtallhflWmnanus g Nonmetropolitan Other SMSA Areas 58.2 64.9 72.6 50.3 Source: "Subject Reports, Mobility for Metropolitan Areas," in U.S. Census of Population, 1960. 128 Table 6.--Percentage of Negro employed males in white-collar occupations by migration status, in Central City, 1955-1960. ~-_ ._____. In-Migrants From Non-Migrants Total In-Migrants No nme tro po 1 i t an Other SMSA Areas 7.6 23.9 35.1 4.6 Source: "Subject Reports, Mobility for Metropolitan Areas," in U.S. Census of Population, 1960. Nevertheless, many in Central City may have per- ceived the rapidly increasing black population of the last three decades as a threat. Since 1940 population trends in Central City have paralleled those in most northern central cities, with white families increasingly moving to 7 In the suburbs and leaving the central city to blacks. 1952 the city was redistricted in such a way as to reduce potential black voting power.* Also, though previously there had been no exclusively black residential section, with the increased black migration to the city whites in the 1940's began to use deed restrictions and refusals to sell to enforce housing segregation.8 Certain tentative patterns emerge from a survey of black migration to Central City. First, Central City's black population, though rapidly growing, remains a *For more discussion of the redistricting, see pp. 171-172 this chapter. 129 relatively low percentage of the city's total population.* Ironically, the black population may have increased rapidly enough to seem a threat to some whites, while still remain- ing too small numerically to dominate the city's political or economic 1ife.** These numbers are important to black leaders: since the black subcommunity by itself would pro- vide only a narrow base of support, even if fully mobilized, one of the first tasks for black leaders has been the search for allies.*** However, this task is difficult because, as Wilson argues, "smaller Negro communities . . . lack the resources that come with large numbers for supporting a vigorous civic life."9 Thus, black leaders in Central City frequently have little to exchange for needed white support. Second, Central City has a relatively "new" black middle class. Only a few blacks had occupations in professional-managerial categories in 1950 (see Table 7), and, as discussed, it was the later streams of migration which seemed to bring more high-status blacks to the city (Tables 5 and 6). As in most other cities studied,lo many of Central City's black leaders come from middle-class and professional statuses. With its comparatively recent middle *For example, Central City has a lower percentage of blacks than most of the cities in the research discussed in Chapter I. **For an argument linking black mobilization with "intermediate percentages" of local populations, see Hubert M. Blalock, Jr., Toward a Theory of Minority Group Relations (New York, 1967), pp. 176-189. ***See this chapter, pp. 182-192. 130 class, Central City's black subcommunity has not yet devel- oped the intricate network of organizations and institutions characteristic of cities having both the larger black popu- lations to support these organizations and the long- established middle-class to fund and head them. Table 7.--Distribution of occupations for Central City black males in labor force, by year. Job Category 1950 1959 1970 Professional- Managerial 6.16* 11.45 10.58 White-Collar** 2.85 4.8 19.63 Blue-Collar*** 89.27 68.87 69.40**** *Numbers show percentage of total black labor force in specific job categories. **All sales and clerical positions. ***Includes craftsmen, foremen, private household workers and all laborers. ****Percentages do not total 100% because some categor— ies are not reported here--for example, the "farm laborer" and "job not reported" categories. Source: "Social Characteristics of the Negro Population for Areas and Places: 1970," General Social and Economic Characteristics; "Nonwhite Population--Occupation Group . . . " in 1960; Population Census: General Social and Economic Characteristics and "Race and Class of Worker . . . " in 1950; Population Census: General Social and Economic Characteristics. 131 Third, the data on black migration patterns in Central City reveal possible sources of political stability* in the city's black subcommunity. For example, as we have seen, recent migration has brought in blacks from metro- politan areas with higher occupational and educational levels than nonmigrants residing in the city; the city also has a somewhat "older" population than typical for U.S. urban non-whites. The older population and growing middle class has become both a source of and an audience for "mod- erate" leadership in Central City. Employment and Income The occupational profile of Central City's blacks has altered considerably during the last twenty years. Table 7 demonstrates several changes in the distribution of general occupational categories. While the percentage of the black male labor force in blue-collar jobs has dropped, many more blacks have moved into sales-clerical and managerial- professional positions. In the short time between 1950-1959, the percentage of blacks in professional-managerial categories almost doubled, and numerically almost quadrupled (from 54 in 1950 to 210 in 1959). This increase is consistent with the data in Tables 5 and 6 on high status in-migration in the latter half of the 1950's. The most dramatic increase in sales-clerical positions, however, occurred in the past *"Stability," as used here, refers to the compara- tively low incidence of violent protests or riots in Central City. 132 decade, the percentage more than quadrupling. The latter increase may have been assisted in 1968 by threatened boy- cotts and picketing aimed at stores in the central business district which were accused of job discrimination. As seen in Table 8, when compared with state-wide figures for non—whites, Central City blacks by 1970 had clearly developed the occupational base for a substantial middle class: proportionally, Central City non-whites have about twice as many in the professional—managerial and sales-clerical categories combined. Blacks in Central City are still "disadvantaged" in comparison to the city's white pOpulation--blacks having higher percentages in lower income blue-collar jobs and fewer persons in professional-managerial groupings; however, the ratio of white to non-white per- centages in Central City is considerably less than for the state-wide white and non-white categories.* Most of Central City's black male workers draw their incomes from private wages or salaries, while very few are self-employed--suggesting the underdevelopment of black- owned businesses. But as Table 9 illustrates, a consider— ably higher proportion of the black labor force works in government jobs than is true for the white labor force. The high percentage of government workers mainly reflects the *Presumably, this means Central City non-whites are "better off" in comparison to the city's white population than state non-whites are when compared to state white pOpu- lations. However, since state-wide data are obviously not for urban areas only, they may be somewhat misleading. Most comparisons in this chapter are limited to urban areas. 133 Table 8.--1970 distribution of occupations for state and city, by race. J b C t Central City Central City State State 0 a egory Non-Whites Whites Non-Whites Whites Managerial- Professional 10.58 21.16 8.60 23.2 White-Collar 19.63 31.22 7.80 13.4 Blue—Collar 69.40 47.43 72.00 56.1 Source: ". . . Labor Force Characteristics by Race: The State," "Occupation of Employed Persons for Areas and Places," and "Social Characteristics of the Negro Population for Areas and Places," in General Social and Economic Characteristics, 1970. Table 9.--Source of income for male workers, 16 years and over, by race, 1970. Central City Central City Non-Whites Whites Percentage of employed black males receiving income as private wage or salary workers 80.4 75.6 Self-employed workers 1.7 4.6 Government workers 17.9 11.9 Percentage of all government workers employed by city government 33.9 61.5 Source: "Social Characteristics of the Negro POpulation for Areas and Places" and ". . . Class of Worker for Standard Metropolitan Statistical Areas," in General Social and Economic Characteristics, 1970. \'! 4 ~ \ 134 Opening up of state and federal jobs to blacks in this state capitol, about two-thirds of government workers being employed by the state or federal government. Table 10 dem— onstrates how little Central City blacks have penetrated city government positions, as opposed to blacks in near—by Detroit and Flint. Though there are naturally more posi- tions available with the state government in a capitol city, the sharply differing percentages for blacks holding local government jobs may also reflect the larger black popula- tions of Detroit and Flint and the (perhaps consequent) greater political mobilization of blacks in these two cities.* For example, both Flint and Detroit have had black mayors—- while Central City did not even have a black city councilman until 1967. Central City also has higher unemployment for black males than the two larger cities (Table 11). In Central City, black males over sixteen years are twice as likely to be unemployed as their white counterparts (Table 12), blacks also having a higher proportion of their work force employed less than half the year (Table 13). Using the latter per- centage as a conservative measure of underemployment, a comparison of Central City, Detroit and Flint also indicates that black workers in Central City are more likely to work half a year or less. *For further discussion of the Mayor's appointment amiemployment policies, see p. 181. 135 Table 10.--Source of income for black male workers, 16 years and over, by city, 1970. —. Central City Detroit Flint Percentage of employed black males receiving income as private wage or salary workers 80.4 83.9 92.2 Self-employed workers 1.7 2.7 1.5 Government workers 17.9 13.4 6.2 Percentage of all government workers employed by city government 33.9 61.7 62.6 Source: "Social Characteristics of the Negro Population for Areas and Places," General Social and Economic Characteristics, 1970. Table 11.--Employment status: black males, 16 years and over, by city, 1970. _._.__- - Central City Detroit Flint Percentage of civilian labor force unemployed 11.0 9.8 6.6 Source: "Economic Characteristics of the Negro Population," General Social and Economic Characteristics, 1970. 136 Table 12.--Employment status: Central City males, 16 years and over, 1970. Non-White White Civilian labor force 2,633 30,791 Employed 2,343 29,114 Unemployed 290 1,677 Percent of civilian labor force unemployed 11.0 5.4 Source: "Employment Status . . for Areas and Places," and "Economic Characteristics of the Negro Population," General Social and Economic Characteristics, 1970. Table l3.--Central City workers in 1969 by weeks worked. Central City Central City Non-Whites Whites Percentage of male labor force working 26 weeks or less 18.1 12.2 Source: "Labor Force Characteristics, by Race," General Social and Economic Characteristics, 1970. These employment problems tend to be concentrated in the inner-city black neighborhoods, where the unemployment rate is actually about 21%.11 Here, 60% of the unemployed have been without work for six months or longer, half of the unemployed last worked at unskilled jobs and almost half had less than a high school education. The city's typical unemployed black is 137 between the ages of 16 and 22; the head of a household; . . . has been exposed to some vocational training since leaving school: does not own a car or other reliable means of transportation; is receiving some form of public assistance; . . . and is responsible for the care of at least one child during normal working hours.12 The Central City area economy does not seem to be growing rapidly enough to absorb many of the unemployed. Though the area economy is relatively diversified--with manufacturing, state government, retail trade and a univer- sity present--in terms of generating jobs it has tended for a number of years to be stable or growing only slightly. Few employers are presently enlarging their labor forces, nor is such expansion anticipated. In the few job cate- gories still expanding, employers seek skilled technical and professional personnel.l3 Thus, job opportunities expand most rapidly for the upper tenth of Central City's black work force. Differences between cities in median incomes for black families may reflect the somewhat slower growth of Central City's economy (Table 14). Nevertheless, median incomes for blacks in Central City have increased dramat- ically over the last two decades (Table 15), reflecting the change from a relatively undifferentiated labor force, 90% of which was blue-collar (Table 7), to one with con- siderable occupational variation and a growing middle class. However, for many black families the increase in incomes requires both husband and wife to work, even when the family has young children. A glance at Table 16, for 138 Table 14.--Median incomes for black families, by city, 1969. ____— __—— Central City Detroit Flint Median family income $8,171 $8,645 $8,825 Source: "Income in 1969 of the Negro Population for Areas and Places," General Social and Economic Character- istics, 1970. Table 15.-—Black median incomes in Central City, by year. 1949 1959 1969 Central City black median income $4,021* $5,182** $8,171 *This figure is the median income for all Negroes. **Medians for 1959 and 1969 are for families. Source: "Income in 1969 of the Negro Population for Areas and Places," in General Social and Economic Char- acteristics, 1970, and "Nonwhite Population . . . inxnmeixll959 for Selected Standard Metropolitan Areas," in Population Census: General Social and Economic Characteristics, 1960 and "Income in 1949 of Persons, by Race" in Population Census: Detailed Characteristics, 1950. Table l6.--Centra1 City women in labor force with young children, by race, 1970. ~— __ .-_._ .___. Central City Central City ‘Non—Whites Whites Number of married women with children under age six 663 9,141 --number working 355 2,712 --percentage 53.5 29.7 Source: "Employment Status by Sex, for Areas and Places," General Social and Economic Characteristics, 1970. 139 example, reveals a much higher percentage of black married women with children under age six who work than is the case for the white population. Given the level of incomes earned by many black males, the high degree of local under- employment and the general instability of many of the unskilled jobs held, it is probably necessary for these mothers to work. The black population of Central City also has a higher proportion of working mothers with young children than do non-whites in Detroit and Flint (Table 17). Table 17.--Black women in labor force with young children, by city, 1970. Central City Detroit Flint Number of married women with 663 32,851 3,148 children under age six --number working 355 13,994 1,579 --percentage 53.5 36.0 50.2 Source: "Employment Status by Sex, for Areas and Places," General Social and Economic Characteristics, 1970. While the mother works, the children usually seem to be cared for by relatives, older children in the family and occasionally by neighbors.* These patterns of child-rearing seem to be preferred to day-care centers, and the center established by the local Model Cities agency is under- utilized.l4 It is difficult to state with any certainty *The basis for these comments is casual observation in the black core area of the city and conversations with staff workers from Model Cities and the Board of Education. 140 whether these child—rearing arrangements hinder the develop- ment of young children, though the possibility should not be discounted. What is implicit in these data, however, is that there is a great deal of economic pressure--and perhaps necessity--for mothers of young children to work. Thus, the rise in family incomes may entail some costs. The general increase in median incomes is dis- tributed among occupational categories in predictable fashion, with professional-managerial groupings well above the black median and laborers well below. In each occupa- tional category except laborers, blacks earn lower median incomes than whites in Central City (see Table 18): indeed, black professionals and managers--from whose ranks come the bulk of local black "influentials"-—earn median incomes of almost $400 less than white craftsmen and foremen. These income differentials even at the highest income levels for blacks help to explain why it is sometimes difficult to fund black organizations in Central City. Table 19 clarifies the distribution of black incomes in relation to state-wide and local populations. At the two extremes, one quarter of Central City's black families earn under $4,000 per year, while two-fifths earn $10,000 and over; though the highest income grouping is close to state-wide non-white percentages, Central City has propor- tionally more persons in the lowest income category, fewer in the middle group between $5,000-9,999 and a lower median income. 141 Table 18.--Median earnings in 1969 for civilian labor force in selected occupations. ___._. —— Central City Central City Non-Whites Total Population All males, 16 years and over, with earnings $7,355 $8,549 Professional, managerial and kindred workers $9,250 $10,843 Craftsmen, foremen and kindred workers $7,935 $9,617 Operatives, including transport $7,848 $8,207 Laborers, except farm $4,346 $4,304 Source: "Income in 1969 of Families, Unrelated Individuals," General Social and Economic Characteristics, 1970. Table l9.--Income comparisons for Central City and state, 1969. Central City Central City State State Non-Whites Whites Non-Whites Whites Median family $8,171 $10,839 $8,536 $11,303 income Percentage of families 24.8 9.7 21.3 9.8 under $4000 Percentage of families earn- 30.7 29.1 33.8 27.6 ing $5000-$9999 Percentage of families earn- ing $10,000 38-2 57-9 39-4 59.2 and over Source: "Income in 1969 of the Negro Population for Areas and Places," and "Income in 1969 of Families . . . for Areas and Places," General Social and Economic Characteristics, 1970. 142 Comparing local populations, in the middle category ($5,000-9,999), white/non-white percentages are rather close, although Central City non-whites proportionally have more than twice as many persons under $4,000 and a considerably smaller upper-income bracket. For Central City blacks, the lowest income category is dominated be female-headed families: these family units are a large minority of all local black families (29.4%), and pull in mean incomes of only $4,453; in the black core area of the city, of all black families below theypoverty level 72.25% are headed by 15 a woman. In summary, the economic resources of Central City's black subcommunity can be viewed in relation to the larger subcommunities of Detroit and Flint and to the city's white population. Compared to local whites, the usual disadvan— tages can be seen: blacks have a smaller middle class, fewer professionals and lower median incomes, combined with a higher percentage in the poverty class under $4,000. Clearly, the black subcommunity will have fewer economic resources with which to support leaders and organizations. Perhaps more surprisingly, Central City suffers in economic comparisons to the metropolitan areas with larger black pOpulations: thus, in comparison to the black populations of Detroit and Flint, Central City blacks have higher unemployment, higher underemployment, higher percentages of working mothers with young children and a lower median income. In relation to state-wide non-white data, Central 143 City also has proportionally more persons under incomes of $4,000 and fewer individuals in the middle groupings between $5,000-9,999. In short, the financial resources available to Central City black leaders are likely to be comparatively limited. On the other hand, if the majority of urban black leaders continue to come from the middle class, Central City should have a sufficient pool of potential leaders. In only twenty years the black labor force has changed from its predominantly blue-collar makeup in 1950, as professional- managerial and white-collar jobs have opened up (Table 7). In fact, by 1970 twice as many blacks in Central City occu— pied either professional-managerial or sales-clerical positions as in the state-wide data for blacks (Table 8). State government jobs at all levels have become available to local blacks, though penetration of local government positions is much less than in other cities. The job pro- files and income-employment data suggest that there is a large pool of potential leaders from the middle class in Central City, but that these leaders will face a large low- income group and limited economic resources in the black subcommunity. Education Table 20 highlights the black educational disad- vantage in relation to the city's white population, blacks having fewer individuals completing high school and college but almost twice the white percentage completing eight years 144 Table 20.--Educational comparisons for Central City and state, by race, 1970. Educational Central City Central City State State Attainment Non4Whites Whites Non‘Whites Whites Percentage completing 33.5 18.8 34.1 24.1 8 years or less* Percentage completing 26.2 34.5 25.1 34.7 high school Percentage with some college 13.3 21.0 11.5 19.9 Median years of school completed 10.9 12.2 10.6 12.1 *All categories refer to persons 25 years and older. Source: "Educational Characteristics for Areas and Places," "Educational Attainment . . . Race," and "Social Characteristics of the Negro Population for Areas and Places," in General Social and Economic Char- acteristics, 1970. or less. Central City blacks also seem to perform less well within the school system than do whites. On thirty-nine tests administered in five grades during the 1969-70 school year, for virtually all tests given, blacks on the average performed considerably less well than other schoolchildren, falling below the national average levels of performance and averaging seven-tenths of a grade below the performance of the city's other schoolchildren.l6 The lack of educa- tional credentials, reflected in both performance levels and the low percentage completing high school, helps funnel the 145 black labor force toward the generally lower-paying unskilled jobs and away from the sectors of expanding employment.* However, this is only a part of the picture. When compared to state non-whites, blacks in Central City have somewhat higher proportions of their population finishing high school and attending college (Table 20). Again, when compared with the large black populations of Detroit and Flint, local blacks do marginally better: both black men and women complete slightly more median years of school- ing and graduate higher proportions from the local high schools (Table 21). Table 21.--B1ack educational comparisons, by sex and city, 1970. Educational Attainment Central City Detroit Flint Black males 25 years and older --median years completed 10.6 10.3 10.5 --percentage high school graduates 37.1 33.7 33.9 Black females 25 years and older --median years completed 11.1 11.0 11.0 --percentage high school Source: "Social Characteristics of the Negro Population for Areas and Places," General Social and Economic Characteristics, 1970. *It should be noted that Central City's black males are at more of an educational disadvantage than black women: for males, twenty-five years and over, median years of school com- pleted are 10.6, while only slightly more than 37% have com- pleted high school: the figures rise somewhat for black women—- 11.1 median years and 41.8% high school graduates. 146 The racial composition of the local schools (imme- diately before the busing controversy) is detailed in Table 22. The Central City school board, under some pres- sure from the local NAACP, began serious efforts to desegre- gate secondary schools in 1967, and all these schools have now been desegregated. However, the desegregation process has depended heavily on so—called "one-way busing" of Negroes, and has aroused resentment in the black subcommunity. Recent disorders in the high schools have also accompanied desegre- gation. Before the busing issue arose, most of the elemen- tary schools remained segregated,* but eventually the school board—-under court pressure—-moved away from the neighborhood school to the cluster-school concept in order to desegregate all elementary schools. This p1an--and the increased busing which accompanied it--aroused intense local opposition. Chapter VI traces the growth of this controversy, the strate— gies developed by black organizations and the involvement of black leadership elites in this issue area. Housing Patterns The development of Central City's black subcommunity matches the common growth pattern for black ghettoes first described more than thirty years ago by Chicago sociologists.l7 Since the turn of the century most local Negroes have lived in a single pocket immediately west of the central business *The measure used here--and in Table 22--is the federal standard of 5% deviation from community racial composition. 147 Table 22.--Blacks as percentages of Central City elementary and secondary schools, 1971. Elementary School % Negro Allen 26 Attwood 12 Averill 10 Barnes 5 Bingham 4 Cavanaugh 2 Cedar 4 Cumberland 12 Elmhurst 5 Everett 4 Fairview 15 Forest Road 10 Forest View 17 Foster 15 Genesee 19 Gier Park 8 Grand River 11 Gunnisonville 1 Harley Franks 22 High 8 Holmes 36 Horsebrook l Kendon 9 Lewton 7 Lincoln Center 29 Lyons 9 Main 88 Maple Grove 4 Maple Hill 10 Maplewood 2 Michigan 84 Moores Park 12 Mt. Hope 1 North 2 Northwestern 5 Oak Park 6 Pleasant Grove 10 Pleasant View 19 Post Oak 2 Reo 9 Sheridan Road 7 Valley Farms 0 Verlinden 23 Wainwright 14 Walnut 18 148 Table 22.--Continued. Elementary-~Continued School % Negro Wexford 26 Willow 34 Woodcreek 14 Total ..... 14 The schools which are underscored are classed as segre- gated, using federal standards of 5% deviation from community ethnic composition. Secondary School % Negro C. W. Otto Jr. 8 Dwight Rich Jr. 16 Gardner Jr. 14 Pattengill Jr. 10 Walter French Jr. 15 Total ..... 12 Eastern High 5 Everett High 6 Hill High 18 Sexton High 20 Total ..... 11 Percentages rounded to nearest whole percent. Source: Official Report of the Citizens Advisory Committee on Educational Opportunity, Appendix B, ethnic data. 149 district. Though initially somewhat dispersed among the white residents, blacks in this pocket reached ghetto pro- portions during the 1940's and increased still faster in the 1950's. Thus, twenty years ago most of the city's black populace was concentrated in the area bounded by Michigan Avenue, Huron and Pine Streets and the southern arc of the Grand River.18 The subcommunity resembled the classic black ghetto, simultaneously exhibiting increased spatial concentration and outward expansion. The core area (see Figure 3) was the port of entry for most black migrants, and their influx plus the tight housing market of the 1940's and the housing seg- regation enforced by real estate agents increased black residential concentrations. However, by the mid-1950's, the tight housing market had disappeared and the rate of white suburbanization increased, thus opening up housing in the areas contiguous to the black ghetto. A high concentra- tion of black residents continued as whites moved out and blacks moved in; during the 1950's the three census tracts containing most of the black population saw 3,517 whites depart and 3,070 black replacements arrive. Expansion occusred as the ghetto, under the pressures of a population more than doubling in a decade, gradually moved west and north.* *Many black spokesmen "escaped" the black core area. See the map locating leaders' residences in Chapter V, P- 293. 150 S Black Core Area ' Middle Class 2.61 Neighborhood Figure 3.--Map of Core Area. 151 Other characteristics of the traditional black ghetto also continued, especially poor housing and infor- mally enforced segregation. In terms of housing conditions, ghetto density continues to be the highest in the city (17.2 persons per acre), and 41% of all core area housing units have been rated as in poor condition.19 Most blacks live in older houses (Table 23). Rapid turnover tends to be the pattern in many black neighborhoods, almost one—half of black families having moved into their housing only in the last two years (Table 24). Overcrowding is reduced from earlier levels, but some non-whites still have more persons per room than is common in the white population (Table 25). Black owner-occupied housing has low median value ($15,900) in the local housing market and, despite median rents of only $111 for black renters, blacks earning less than $10,000 continue to pay disproportionate amounts of their income for rent (paying over 35% as the median percentage of income for rentzo). Table 23.--Year structure built for black homeowners in Central City. 1960 to March, 1970 -- 19.6% 1950 to 1959 -- 11.4% 1949 or earlier -- 69.4% Source: "Structural, Equipment and Financial Characteristics of Housing Units with Negro Head of Household," Census Tract. 152 Table 24.--Year moved into housing unit for blacks in Central City. 1968 to March, 1970 -- 47.0% 1960 to 1967 -- 39.4% 1959 or earlier -- 15.0% Source: "Structural, Equipment and Financial Characteris- tics of Housing Units with Negro Census Tracts, 1970. Table 25.--Persons per room as percentage units in Central City by race, Head of Household," of occupied housing 1970. ._—.—._. _..-_._._‘....— Central City ._.__. .— Central City Non-Whites Whites 1.00 or fewer persons per room 85.9 94.2 1.01-1.50 persons per room 11.2 4.9 1.51 or more persons per room 3.0 0.9 Source: "Occupancy, Utilization and Financial Characteris- tics of Housing Units," and "Occupancy, Utilization and Financial Characteristics of Housing Units with Negro Head of Household," Census Tracts, 1970. 153 Real estate agents have helped to perpetuate hous- ing segregation by "guiding" blacks to ghetto housing, with often profitable results: in a 1965 sample of resi- dents, an examination of .rents paid.for single family dwellings compared with assessed valuations concluded that 82% of Negro renters received less than average value for their rent dollar, compared with 37% of white renters.21 Perhaps as a result, most blacks avoid real estate salesmen.*22 Financial institutions also raised barriers to black housing by showing interest chiefly in mortgages for new homes in the suburbs and by assuming that property desired by blacks would decline in value.23 Possibly because of difficulties in credit arrangements, a lower proportion of blacks owned homes than did whites at the same income level.24 The development of the spatially concentrated black subcommunity was disrupted by a series of forced reloca- tions in the 1960's. The major causes of residential relo- cation were housing code enforcement and private demolition, state capitol redevelopment, Oldsmobile expansion and the I-496 corridor. Stricter enforcement of health and build- ing codes throughout Central City occasionally forced blacks out of overcrowded housing; more often, private demolition eliminated housing units in the subcommunity, as new service stations and apartment buildings frequently proved more *It is interesting to note that several informants and leaders interviewed described "the real estate interests" as the most powerful or dominant group in the city. Many were convinced that real estate men "run the city and control the politicians." 154 profitable than the old housing stock. By the end of the decade, expansion of the capitol complex had also forcibly relocated 126 families (of whom 47 were low—income residents), and the city's oldest church, Collins AME (now Trinity AME).25 However, the capitol expansion affected comparatively few black families. In 1961 Oldsmobile began enlarging its parking facilities and, by 1966, had purchased and razed 179 housing units, mainly owned by blacks and including some of the worst housing in the city.26 Both the state capitol and the Oldsmobile expansions occurred gradually over a prolonged period, and major dislocations did not occur. Instead, the most disruptive impact on the black subcommunity came from the construction of the I-496 corridor. The corridor was a one-block wide swath from Main to St. Joseph Street, skirting the southern edge of the central business district and bisecting the black core area (Figure 3). The area was densely pOpulated by low-income Negro families residing in low value and often substandard housing. In all, 273 black families were forced to move. Some black businesses between Birch and Pine Streets were able to relocate.* The period of state acquisition and clearance coincided with the Oldsmobile expansion to the immediate south of the highway corridor, and a slowing in the *This, at least, is the report of official relocation studies.27 Black informants, however, insist that these businesses were most often eliminated; constant references .are made to the "disappearance" of black-owned businesses caused by the highway clearance. When informed of the official reports, several black informants simply said the reports lied. 155 construction of lower—priced housing in the city.28 In addition, no public housing was locally available until 1967 (and then only 100 units),residents were allowed less time to relocate and prices paid by the state were lower than those which had been paid by Oldsmobile. Indeed, almost all homeowners felt that the first offer of payment from the state highway department was too low, and many considered the $200 offered for moving costs and property loss to be inadequate.29 As the difficulties of the relocation process became clear, a small group of blacks in the subcommunity organized themselves. It began by just talking about our problems. Then we went to the city council--which was conservative then-- and told them of the problems with the highway. We were surprised . . . they weren't interested, and wouldn't even appropriate money to study the problems of peOple being displaced. . . . Only later would they do anything at all. Although the tentative route had been known for four years before council action, when the city council formally approved the I-496 route through Central City in July of 1961, no steps were taken to aid in relocation. By 1963, white citizen and church groups were urging the council to consider whether public housing would be necessary for the black families to be displaced. Only in September of 1965 was the Central City Housing Commission established to pro- vide low-income housing, and not until late in 1966 did the city create its own Relocation Office to handle relocation 156 efforts in the city.* Clearly, the city moved late to cope with relocation difficulties, several citizen and church groups made efforts which preceded black protests and black residents only organized themselves when the highway's impact became obvious. Said one former resident of the neighborhood: I think a lot of people don't understand it [the highway clearance] right away--or even believe it. Most of us didn't think much about it or bother with it until they [highway officials] were right there at the front door . . . then everyone was mad and we weren't offered much to move-—but it was too late to do anything.**31 The center of Central City's black core area will continue to be the area of the city most affected by future residential displacements. Housing projections over the present decade call for 775 families to be displaced by "neighborhood improvements," 300 families by industrial activity and 120 families by capitol expansion by 198032-- in all, affecting at least 1,200 families, mostly black. Some blacks see this continuing process as a deliberate effort by the city: "They want to break up the black *The characteristics of those forced to relocate are clear from the records on file in the City Relocation Office: most of the families were headed by women, lived in over- crowded conditions, and had young children. **The Federal Highway Act of 1962 specified that per- sonal contact with each individual or family being displaced was necessary. Such contacts were made and the relocation process was supposedly explained. On the basis of personal reports, though, the explanations were not clear or were not understood, and the "threat" to the neighborhood was not originally taken very seriously. For a report of a similar process among low-income Italians, see Herbert Gans, The Urban Villagers (New York, 1967). 157 neighborhood so we won't be solid or a power bloc."33 At any rate, housing and forced relocation will continue to be highly salient issues for local blacks in the foreseeable future. In its impact upon the resident black population, the forced relocations seemed both to reflect and to rein- force existing lines of stratification within the subcom- munity. By far the largest number of blacks relocated within the ghetto, thereby increasing its density and overcrowding,* d.34 Some and forcing the boundaries of the ghetto outwar low-income black families moved away from the ghetto to the new public housing facilities, though these sites were selected by the Housing Commission and were sometimes the focus of intense neighborhood opposition. In contrast, for upwardly mobile middle- and upper- income blacks relocation offered clear opportunities. Taking advantage of changes in FHA lending practices, the "filter- ing down" of a large number of homes in Central City and the general loosening of the housing market, many of these families used the relocation period to move to areas out— side the traditional core area. These families integrated two previously all—white areas: the peripheral subdivisions in southwest Central City and the blocks immediately west of the old core area. *For example, in a random sample of Relocation Office files, one quarter of the families were "doubling up. ll 158 The income differences reflected in the dispersal of Central City's black population mean that the middle- and upper—income groups which traditionally provided most core area leadership often now are separated spatially from the black ghetto of the past--and from the concentration of problems characteristic of the area. Indeed, the link between residence and income for Central City blacks is similar to the patterns for the general population: low- income families continue to be concentrated at the center of the traditional ghetto, while middle— and upper-income groups move toward new neighborhoods at the periphery and beyond. For local blacks this dispersal is justifiably welcome as a sign of "racial progress," or integration. However, the developing patterns of residence in which sep- arate black neighborhoods are distinguished by sharp socio- economic differences do have implications for local black leadership: it is more difficult for any black to speak fpr_the people in the city's core area, when he is not pf that area himself. Comparisons between the black core area and a new middle—income black neighborhood suggest some of the differ- ing social and economic characteristics.* Census tracts 15, 16 and 18 represent the area with the bulk of Central *The differences would be even greater if one com- pared the core area with higher-income black populations scattered throughout the new subdivisions. However, the Negro populations are generally too low in these subdivisions to permit comparisons with the much larger number of blacks living in the core area. 159 City's black population; respectively, the tracts are 78%, 72.3% and 92.5% black in population. Tracts 15 and 18, however, mainly cover the older black core area, while tract 16 has only recently been penetrated by blacks (the areas are shown in Figure 3). Until 1965, most of the neighborhood of middle—income housing had been solidly white; that year the first black resident purchased a lot through a white friend; for a short time the neighborhood was "integrated," but then whites began moving out. That this neighborhood is very different than the contiguous ghetto is clear even to a casual observer: after crossing Jenison Street, one abruptly shifts from a neighborhood of run-down housing and littered streets to one of curving streets, large lawns and substantial homes. Census data bear out the difference. Compared to the black core area, the neighborhood represented by tract 16* is higher on family median income, years of school com- pleted, percentage of high school graduates and median value of owner-occupied units (Table 26), while having a much lower proportion of families below the poverty level. Houses are generally somewhat newer in tract 16 (Table 27), and home-owning is the dominant pattern, while renter- occupancy is much more common in the core area (Table 28). *Again, differences would be even sharper if census tract 16 did not contain, at its fringe, a small section of run-down housing, spilling over from the core area. How- ever, the differences between tract 16 and tracts 15 and 18 remain sizeable. 160 Table 26.--Socio-economic measures for Central City census tracts 15, 16 and 18. _1___.- .___..-__._. “__._ . _._._.-- Variables Tract 15 Tract 18 Tract 16 Median family income $7,744 $4,684 $11,528 Median years of school completed 9.9 10.2 12.1 Percentage of high school graduates 29.1 33.1 54.5 Median value of owner-occupied units $13,700 $15,600 $19,600 Percentage of all families below poverty level* 26.1 25.5 10.5 *Excludes inmates, Armed Forces personnel, college students and unrelated individuals under 14 years. Source: "Economic Characteristics of the Negro Population," "General and Social Characteristics of the Negro Population," and "Occupancy, Utilization and Finan- cial Characteristics of Housing Units," Census Tracts, 1970. Table 27.--Year structure built in tracts 15, 16 and 18. Year Built Tract 15 Tract 18 Tract 16 1960 to March 1970 11.0 0.0 6.7 1950 to 1959 2.0 4.9 26.2 1949 or earlier 87.0 95.1 67.1 Source: "Structural, Equipment and Financial Characteristics of Housing Units," Census Tracts, 1970. 161 Table 28.--Percentage of black housing units which are owner- occupied or renter-occupied in tracts 15, 16 and 18. —_———_— Owning/Renting Tract 15 Tract 18 Tract l6 Owner—occupied 33.0 50.9 83.1 Renter-occupied 67.0 49.1 16.9 Source: "Occupancy, Utilization and Financial Characteris- tics of Housing Units," Census Tracts, 1970. Unemployment is substantial in Tract 16 (11.5% of male labor force over sixteen years), but even higher in the core area (16.5%* 51L tracts 15 and 18).35 The occupational distributions also differ, with almost three times as many professional-managerial-administrative positions in tract 16 as in the core area, and a lower proportion of blue-collar workers (Table 29). Mothers with young children also seem under more pressure to work full-time in the core area; for example, while in tract 16 only 11% of women with children under age six work (in conventional husband-wife family units) in the core area, 34% do 50.36 A comparison of occupational distributions in the black core area and the middle-income neighborhood to the distribution for Central City's white population shows the size of black-white gaps: predictably, the black middle class neighborhood much more closely resembles the white distribution, as Table 30 demonstrates. *The core area figures should probably be even higher since about 5.5% of the area's labor force is not reported or accounted for in the 1970 census. 162 Table 29.--Occupationa1 distribution for males 16 years and over, by census tract, 1970. .-._ —-_.__..— _ —. -_ .— Tracts 15 and 18 Tract 16 (Core Area) Job Categories Professional, technical, managers, administrators 7.6 22.1 and kindred workers Sales and clerical 20.9 19.4 Blue-collar (craftsmen, foremen, operatives, 71.5 58.5 laborers,* service and private household workers) *Does not include farm laborers. Source: "Economic Characteristics of the Negro Population," Census Tracts, 1970. Table 30.-—Comparison of occupational distributions, 1970. Tracts 15 and 18 Central City Job Categories (Core Area) White Tract 16 Population Managerial- professional 7.6 21.2 22.1 White-collar (sales and 20.9 31.2 19.4 clerical) Blue-collar (craftsmen, fore- men, service & 71.5 47.4 58.5 private household workers, laborers, etc.) Source: "Economic Characteristics of the Negro Population" in Census Tracts, 1970 and "Occupations of Employed Persons for Areas and Places," in General Social and Economic Characteristics, 1970. 163 In conclusion, housing is not only an issue to which black leaders must respond, but also a source of some dif- ficulty for these leaders. The high number of forced relo- cations and the rapid population turnover in housing suggest the difficulties for those who would organize in the core area.* On the other hand, given the opening up of the housing market, the black professionals who continue to perform leadership functions for the subcommunity are increasingly unlikely to come from the core area. This situation poses basic problems of identification. For the large number of blacks continuing to live in the core area it is difficult to "identify with" or respond to the leader- ship proferred by middle—class blacks who live elsewhere; explained one black, "Don't tell me you're a leader, if you lead from East Central City [a suburb]!"37 But difficulties of identification also arise for those trying to be leaders but separated from core area blacks by spatial and socio- economic barriers. Their problem is to extend their contacts in the core area, and to recognize the most salient issues for core area blacks, while living outside the area. One would-be black leader typified this problem: I think I'm bright enough to know what should be done [in the subcommunity], but sometimes I don't know what they [core area residents] think, or if they have opinions. . . . All I can do is try to speak on behalf of them--and I should.38 *See Chapter V's discussion of two such efforts: John Washington and the Malcolm X Institute. 164 The spatial reinforcement of socio-economic barriers leads to a "spokesman" concept of leadership for many middle- income blacks, particularly the militant integrationists. They will speak "on behalf of" the core area residents. though in fact they may not be aware of their most pressing problems. Thus, though housing has been the area of great- est dissatisfaction for core area residents,39 leaders frequently give the housing issue lower priority. Police and the Subcommunity Perceptions of Central City police also differ among blacks. Though most residents of the core area are unfavorably disposed toward the local police,40 many blacks in leadership positions are considerably more san- guine. Comments such as "We don't have any police brutality in this town," or "All in all, I guess the police do alright" are common. Citizen complaints about police activities are sub- jected only to internal investigation within the police department. Blacks frequently direct complaints not to the police, but to the Human Relations Commission, which is headed by a black. These complaints are passed on to the police department for its own investigations. Blacks in Central City have never brought much pressure on the depart- ment to hire b1acks--perhaps because of disdain for the police. The force has only eight black policemen, all hired since 1965. The deliberate recruitment of black policemen has not been a department policy; the main emphasis is upon 165 increasing the professionalism of the force, and educa- tional requirements have been upgraded to include at least sixty college credits. Police View street-violence, crime and drugs as their main problems in the black core area.41 Three small riots have occurred since the mid-sixties, all of them short and causing comparatively few injuries and little prOperty damage. In one case, however, the Mayor threatened to have all looters shot on sight, though this was not done (prob- ably because there were few looters). The sequence of events in the September, 1971, "riot" was typical:42 the sparking incident was the street- corner shooting of two blacks by a white man; the following night black youths threw bricks at passing cars, fire-bombed a building with U.S. Army offices, and hurled bricks and firebombs at firemen; the Mayor responded the next day by saying that the initial shooting only provided an excuse to riot; several black spokesmen tried to calm the youths during the day, buttflmafollowing night, after several rocks were thrown, officers blocked off traffic in a fifteen— block area (closely corresponding to the black core area in Figure 3), and the violence gradually ended. Some of the events illustrate the gap between middle- class black leaders and the angry youths in the core area. For example, in a newspaper story written by one of the young blacks, the director of the Human Relations Commission was slightingly referred to as "a Central City Negro employed 166 by the city."43 And in contrast to the local black leaders speaking for racial integration, the mimeographed sheet which sought to supply a rough ideological base for the riot called for an extreme form of black community control (see p. 167). Though Central City's over-all crime rate has increased more slowly than in larger cities,44 both blacks and police report disprOportionate amounts of theft and drug use in the core area. Police activity in the area is correspond— ingly higher.45 The traffic in heroin and coccaine has been locally controlled by black dealers; ironically, one of the main drop-off points for heroin is assumed to be the "West Side Drop-in Center, established by the city as a place of recreation in the core area.46 Though black informants claimed that "drugs are ruining us," or "are our number one problem, few steps have been taken by blacks themselves to reduce drug use in the subcommunity. There have been a few ministerial conferences, and a new Methadone and Detoxifi- cation Center has been established, but subcommunity leaders have taken no concerted action. A number of blacks insist that whites have delib- erately used the drug traffic to pacify the subcommunity. One black minister reflected this attitude: I know for a fact that our West Side is loaded with dope. . . . It's been said by some, and I believe *The antipathy some black leaders felt toward the city's Model Cities agency was strengthened when rumors spread after the riot that the flier had been printed at the Malcolm X Institute--which is funded by Model Cities. 167 The white media (television, radio, and newspapers) are in cahoots with the white police force. Since Monday night the Black people of Central City have been rebelling against the white power structure of this city. Activities have been in the form of throwing bricks at whites who drive through the Black community, and fire-bombing building[s], such as the military intelligence building at Ottawa and Butler. The activities were sparked by the shooting of a brother and sister on Monday by a white boy. The white boy was in the Black community at 4:30 in the morning. The white boy tried to buy some pussy from the sister. When the sister refused to allow herself to become a prostitute the white boy shot her three times and her male companion, who was standing nearby, once. The Black community responded immediately when the people got word of the murder attempt. Bricks and bombs began to fly, and will continue to fly! Why the bricks at white people? Because whites who drive through the Black community at night are the source of crime in the community. It's whites in the Black community at night who buy stolen goods taken from the homes of Black workers. It's the whites in the Black community at night who bring the dope into the Black com- munity. It's the whites in the Black community at night that try to make the Black woman a prostitute! That's why the bricks fly at the white people at night, to stop crime and indecency in the Black community. Why bricks at all white people? They all don't sell dope, buy stolen goods or approach sisters. Because it is the duty of all whites to stop their brothers. If those who are innocent will stop coming through the Black community, then only the guilty will come. Then only the guilty will be tricked. Whites this is a warning to you! The peOple and white media claim they do not know why Blacks are in the streets. THEY KNOW!!! They all are receiving a c0py of this notice. THEY KNOW! They don't tell you because they want to start a riot. Mayor Smith and Police Chief Jones know, but they want an opportunity to shoot some "Niggers." The Black activist[s] of Central City are demanding an end to the harrassement of the Black people of Central City, by police when whites are the real criminals. Figure 4.--F1ier Distributed During Riot, September, 1971. We demand: (1) (2) (3) 168 All whites stay out of the Black community after dark. This is your final warning! Black people be given the taxes collected from the Black community in order that we can police and build our own community. Jones and his pigs are not doing the job. All institutions; police department, fire stations, schools, etc. be turned over to the Black community to operate. Then the Black community will be a healthy place to live and raise a family. Figure 4.-—Continued. 169 it, that dope has been pushed into ghettos to cool down the black movement, to keep people apathetic. . . .47 It is certain that drug use is increasing, and even formally reported cases of addiction in the city are dispropor- tionately black: for example, forty-two out of ninety-two addicts admitted to the local hospital between July, 1970, and July, 1971, were black.48 Although in the past local police have been charged with ignoring the drug traffic in the core area, a series of recent raids on west side "dope pads" has occurred.49 The immediate effects have been a reduction in the number of black drug dealers (thus opening the market to Chicano entrepreneurs), and an increase in the street price of heroin.50 With the exception of the militant separatists, local black leaders seem not so much concerned with stories of police brutality as with accounts of police inefficiency. Their main complaint is that black neighborhoods are open to drug dealers and petty criminals because police ignore these areas. Stories are repeatedly told of calls to police which go unanswered for hours. The police chief defends the department, citing computer reports which show faster response times for police in the predominantly black west side,51 but the criticism continues. Indeed, many of the black leaders living in or near the core area have very strong "law and order" views: was arrested at the [high school] sit-in, and they found out he was a draft-dodger and returned him 170 to Texas for a trial. . . . They paroled him and allowed him to return here. . . . Now he's back, walk— ing around, causing trouble. . . . Can you imagine that? What are we coming to? In Central City, after a person is arrested, you see them out on the streets again the next day—-they should keep them in jail a good long while before their trials, so they can't get out. . . . I don't care if they keep 'em in there for years!52 Black Politics in Central City The patterns of black politics in Central City sup- port Wilson's contention that "the structure and style of Negro politics in . . . Northern cities . . . reflects the politics of the city as a whole."53 Particularly in Central City, local black politics are shaped by the formal struc- tures of city government. Central City has a Mayor-Council, non-partisan form of government. Recent charter revisions have strength- ened the Mayor's office. Elected by popular vote every four years, the Mayor is the city's chief executive officer, responsible for the yearly budget and general supervision of the executive and administrative work of the city, though his appointments to city and county boards are subject to council approval. The City Council acts as a legislative body, and is responsible for passing ordinances, approving most mayoral appointments and maintaining legislative over- sight of administrative activities. The Mayor has no vote on the council except in cases of a tie-vote, and he may veto council action. Six of the eight votes on the council are necessary to override the Mayor's veto. 171 Certain aspects of the city's formal structure-- specifically the non-partisan ballot and the altering of ward arrangements-—generate constraints on black political ‘ activity. The non-partisan ballot provides no party cues around which a black bloc vote might be organized, and directs existing party organizations away from local poli- tics. Therefore, black voters are required to have rela- tively high levels of political information in order to differentiate among the array of names on the local ballot. Changes in local units of representation have also diminished the potential impact of the black vote: ward lines have been redrawn and "at-large" constituencies created. In the past, Central City used a large number of wards which generally were drawn to reflect the ethnic or religious characteristics of neighborhoods. In a city where the tiny Negro population was somewhat dispersed, council representation was based on eight wards, each electing two councilmen. However, as the black population increased in number and concentration, a black attorney almost won a council seat in 1952. That same year the city was redis- tricted, and the present arrangement was made for four large wards with only one councilman from each, and four council- men to be elected at-large. The ward lines were redrawn and the black core area is now split between wards three and four, with blacks a minority in each; this redistricting was seen by some blacks as a move to reduce the power of the black vote.54 172 The creation of city-wide council constituencies also presumably reduced the chances for a successful black candidacy. In the twenty years since the change in repre- sentation there has been only one successful black at-large candidate, and his actions on behalf of the black subcommu- nity are necessarily restricted by his mainly white con- stituency. In short, these aspects of the formal structure destroy what has been the basis for most urban black repre- sentation on city councils--the relatively small, racially homogeneous ward.55 The black role in local politics is also affected by less tangible factors such as the low visibility of city politics, the economic-growth orientation of top policy- makers, the widely shared assumptions about the proper scope of city politics, and what is assumed to be the conservative "power elite" in Central City. The seemingly low visibility of local politics is reflected in turnouts for city elec- tions, which only rarely exceed one—third of the registered voters--and which are similarly low in the black core area. This low visibility seems to be the product of the restricted nature of local policy-making (most "issues" involve balanc- ing budgets and the routine housekeeping functions of gov— ernment), the absence of party identifications to structure Political conflicts and excite voter interest, and the Staggered schedule of local elections in which the Mayor and all councilmen never run simultaneously. Another possibil- ity not to be ignored is that most citizens are satisfied 173 with what they know of city politics. A majority of the city's voters are Republican, and the low-key "good govern- ment" approach in local politics may well seem satisfactory-- though clearly not to the black leaders in Central City. The issues which do arouse the interest of wider publics often are neighborhood-related. For example, one of the more heated controversies of recent years revolved around the issue of locating a low-income housing project in a section of the city. The aroused residents of the neigh- borhood brought petitions to the City Council, forced the issue onto the ballot and won the referendum overwhelmingly.* Again, the issue of school busing and the "neighborhood school" (discussed in detail in Chapter VI) is currently the only local issue exciting mass publics. Most of the city's policy-makers also seem to share a common definition of the proper role for local govern- ments: local government should be producer-oriented, directly promoting economic growth and establishing a "good climate" for local businesses. Thus, in Central City, much attention is given to the urban renewal projects which, in the words of one businessman, "spruce up the downtown and make the city better for business";56 at $4,089,841, the downtown renewal project is the big ticket item in the city budget.57 Establishing a good business climate is linked to what is seen as the proper scope of policy-making in the *Table 34 indicates the black-white vote on the ref- erendum. The issue has since gone to the courts. 174 city. The hallmarks of good government are felt to be properly balanced budgets, low taxes and efficient services.* . . . producer-oriented political activity often expresses itself negatively; that is, nothing should be done that might hinder the community's growth. The city should have "a good reputation." Politics should be conducted in a low key. The image of stability and regularity in city finances must be assured. Friend- liness toward business in general should be the tradi- tional attitude of city officials.58 Thus, Central City politics usually produce few proposals for innovative city policies, but instead emphasize the virtues of the "good government" approach. Many blacks account for the traditionally limited concerns of local government through power elite explanations. Repeatedly, the socially prominent white realtors and businessmen are cited as the controlling elite which manipulates local government for its own ends;** though evaluation of this belief is beyond the scope of this research, it does seem that the structural barriers discussed above are of equal importance in "explaining" the difficulties of local black politics. *One city official stated this position quite suc- cinctly: "I think we should have a disciplined city govern— ment-—like a good business. Our planning should be careful . . . our use of the taxpayer's money should be cautious. . . . We should run a tight ship-—and I guess we do." **The research of a decade ago may give some credence to these views: Form and Sauer found most local decision- makers to be white conservatives who lived for years in the Central City area, with the "economic dominants" having the greatest influence on local policy—makers. The findings were a result of using the reputational approach in Central City. See William A. Form and Christopher Sauer, "Community Influentials in a Middle-Size City," Institute of Community Development publication (East Lansing, 1959). 175 In fact, the low visibility of local politics and the commonly held belief in a white power elite might seem to offer opportunities for black political mobilization: given the minimal interest in local politics among whites, the organization of a solid black voting bloc could have a great electoral impact; also the widely presumed existence of a white "power elite" might seem to offer black leaders a target for rhetoric, a necessary enemy against which to organize local blacks. Neither the organization of a large black vote nor the use of the white elites as targets has yet occurred, in large part because of (l) the limits on incentives available to black political leaders, (2) the structural context of city politics and (3) the existing patterns of co-optation. Assuming that political like other leaders must maintain their followings by use of differing incentives,59 Central City's black political leaders face serious prob- lems. To garner the largest possible black vote, appeals would have to be directed to the black lower class in the core area. By and large, the material incentives (jobs, favors, patronage), which are traditionally useful in induc- ing lower class support in a "machine" city60 are not avail- able to local black politicians. For example, neither the black city councilman nor the member of the Board of Educa- tion has access to many such incentives.* Intangible *The Mayor, however, does have these incentives available--thus, a black Mayor would be in a different position. 176 incentives or racial appeals--which have been useful else- where in mobilizing a black vote6l--might also be used, but as we have seen, the formal structure of city politics imposes mainly white constituencies on black politicians. In the strategic context of large wards and city-wide con- stituencies, the successful black politician is likely to avoid the kinds of direct racial appeals which might well arouse as many whites as Negroes. In addition, the process of informal co-optation,62 through which Central City's unions, schools and state agencies have begun to share power within institutions, lessens the chances for those blacks not occupying electoral positions to use racial appeals.* Upwardly mobile blacks are aware of the role constraints in their new positions as supervisors in the state highway office, or assistant principals in the high schools or pres- idents of union locals; though recognized as black spokes- men, their appeals cannot be directly racial in nature. Not surprisingly, their rhetoric is one emphasizing "fair play," "community responsibility" and the "need for communication."63 Of course, most of the political and positional leaders are also middle class--by income, education and occupation—-as well as spatially separated from the black core area, making it even more unlikely for them to direct racial appeals to the lower class. A small group of leaders within the black subcommunity (the militant separatists) do use racial appeals, though they never hold political office. *See the co-optive saga of John Washington, as described in Chapter V, pp. 283-286. 177 All of these factors contribute to the unmobilized black vote in Central City. Mobilization requires a high percentage of registered voters who can vote as a sophis- ticated bloc--selecting out and supporting favored white or black candidates, while voting against others. The largest barrier to this kind of mobilization is the low percentage of local black voters who are registered.64 However, those blacks who do vote form a rather sophisticated bloc. When the first black candidate ran successfully for the Board of Education in 1969 the mainly black precincts* overwhelmingly supported her (Table 31). When the black councilman ran in 1971 black support again was strong (Table 32). Of course, neither the black pOpula- tion nor the black vote is large enough to give victories to blacks with city-wide constituencies, and both successful black candidates have had to develop general support. Harriet Campbell, in running for the Board of Education, finished first in a field of nine candidates, and James Faraday, the city councilman, has developed increasing electoral support in all wards of the city (see Table 33). Where direct racial cues are absent, black voters still seem able to distinguish "friends" and "enemies." For example, when then-Mayor Burningham was faced by challenger *It is sometimes difficult to isloate the black vote since, of course, no racial identification of voters is kept in official records. However, certain areas of the city are overwhelmingly black. The returns from this core area, which coincides with precincts sixteen and seventeen in ward four and precinct one in ward three, are used here. 178 Gerald Ravski, who was not seen as friendly to blacks, Burningham pulled 77.9% of the vote in the mainly black sixteenth precinct. Even in a comparatively complex ref- erendum vote, blacks voted overwhelmingly in favor of plac- ing low-income housing in a white neighborhood, as shown in Table 34. Table 31.--Percentage of vote for Negro board candidate in selected black precincts, April, 1969.* —__—— _ _.——.._.__ __....—_—.__.___ -__-_.- -._. .— Harriet Campbell All Opponents Ward 4, precinct 16 48.5 51.5 Ward 4, precinct 17 48.0 52.0 *Nine candidates ran for the Board of Education and each voter could vote for five in these precincts. Many voters evidently cast ballots only for the black candidate, with Campbell drawing about one-half of all votes and the remainder being split up among the other eight candidates. Source: Election returns, Office of the City Clerk. Table 32.--Percentage of vote for Negro councilman candidate in black precincts, April, 1971.* _ —__——_—_..—. ______._ . _. 1-.— -_ l- _.———...._. ..____..._ . ._.——.- -~ James Faraday All Opponents Ward 3, precinct 1 72.0 28.0 Ward 4, precinct 16 60.5 39.5 Ward 4, precinct 17 57.1 42.9 *Four candidates ran for at-large seats on the City Council and voters could vote for one person. Source: Office of the City Clerk. 179 Table 33.--Votes for black candidate as percentage of top vote-getter, by ward and year. 1967 Percentage of 1971 Percentage of Top Vote—Getter Top Vote-Getter Ward 1 73.6 99.9 Ward 2 69.9 86.2 Ward 3 74.4 WON Ward 4 ‘ 90.7 WON Source: Office of the City Clerk. Table 34.--Percentage of votes for low-income housing project, 1970. _..__...__._..._._. .— Yes No City-wide vote 35.8 64.2 Black precincts* 73.0 27.0 *Ward four, precincts 16 and 17. Source: Office of the City Clerk. However, there are signs of the undermobilization of black voters in the traditional time lag for black politicians,65 the continued presence of a white councilman in the fourth ward and in the stance of the Mayor vis-a-vis the black subcommunity. Although in the last twenty years the local black population has increased rapidly from its initially small base, elected black officials did not appear in local politics until the last five years. This time lag 180 is no doubt linked to the "newness" of much of Central City's black populace, including many higher status blacks, and the structural barriers of large wards and city-wide constituencies; it also reflects the difficulties of organ- izing for political ends in a subcommunity generally char- acterized by low income and education levels.66 The time lag seems to be ending--but in rather unusual fashion. Blacks have gained office not by organiz- ing other blacks as a voting bloc (in neither case, have the successful black candidates depended on black votes for their margins of victory), but by successfully appealing to city-wide constituencies or by being appointed to official positions. Unlike cities where ward organization eventually converts black majorities into black officials, Central City Negroes are beginning to be elected to city office without ever successfully organizing the voters in the black subcom- munity--as indicated by the very low proportion of registered black voters. Though the potential black vote is split between two wards, most of it is concentrated within ward four (precincts sixteen and seventeen). However, no black coun- cilman has been elected from the ward, partly because of low levels of black voting* and political disorganization. The *Though comprising about a fourth of the potential vote in the ward, blacks generally cast less than 10% of the vote in the ward, as calculated by using total votes from "black precincts" sixteen and seventeen. 181 disorganization was apparent in the last attempt of a black candidate: . . . he [the candidate] wasn't too sure about the run- ning business . . . signs were put up too late in the campaign. . . . The community was split because some people didn't like him . . . he didn't talk to the right groups. . . . It was strictly amateur night. . . .67 This politically unorganized black subcommunity poses little threat to the present Mayor, who is seen as consis- tently hostile by blacks. Leaders consider the Mayor to have used the racial issue in his first campaign for office, which was largely based on the "threat" posed by the low- income housing project. One white politician claimed that he ran an anti—establishment, Wallace-type campaign, . . . he wasn't explicitly anti-black, but I think everyone got the right idea. . . . He won by getting the "mud—sill vote"* auui a good amount of white union support. In his first term, the Mayor has been responsible for the firing of a black Model Cities aide involved in a protest, maintained steady criticism of Model Cities and its black director, threatened to "get the jobs"69 of prominent blacks who criticized the police and charged the black councilman with being "unfit for public office" because of unpaid bills at the city utility. In addition, few blacks have been hired for city hall jobs during the Mayor's tenure. For example, while the city in 1971 increased salaried jobs by 16%, minorities in the same classification declined by 5%.70 The Mayor has also appointed relatively few blacks *This phrase refers to a southern rural voter-- coming from an area where mudsills are common to most houses. 182 to city positions, even to the Model Cities agency, and none at all to his official cabinet. Because of its campaign support, UAW local 652 black officials have been given two appointments. Black leaders are unanimously negative in their feelings toward the Mayor.* Many hope that the black coun- cilman will challenge him for office in the future, though there is fear that the Mayor "has dirt" on the councilman's alleged sexual and economic activities. In general, there are strong constraints on black political activity in Central City: blacks are a minority of the city population (9.3%), few voters are registered and black politicians face the problems posed by large wards, city-wide constituencies and non-partisan ballots. Conclusion: Coalition and Infiltration The characteristics of the black subcommunity and the political and economic environment of the city estab- lish the context within which local black leadership must operate. The demographic data discussed in this chapter directly affect (1) the kinds of resources71 available or not available to leaders, (2) the appropriateness of dif- fering strategies, (3) the types of black leaders likely *Though a few blacks initially supported him, the Mayor today is talked of with great scorn: "He's a racist," "He has this racial hang—up," "He's a little man," "He stabs you in the back," "He is completely irresponsible" are a few typical comments. Stories abound of the Mayor telling black leaders to control "their" people, of the Mayor threatening to make an issue of the murder of the daughter of a promi- nent official by a black, etc. 183 to appear and (4) the level of competition among these leaders. The most basic datum for Central City blacks is population size: though increasing, the black population is still small, both relatively and absolutely. In terms of absolute number, the black population of slightly more than 12,000 does not provide the basis for the intricate network of organizations, groups and institutions characteristic of the larger black pppulations in major cities. For example, Central City's black subcommunity has relatively few civil rights organizations (only the NAACP and the Urban League), only a small newspaper published sporadically by college students and no elaborate black economy in the core area.* It is possible that a certain critical mass is necessary for the extension and elaboration of subcommunity institutions, and that Central City blacks simply do not have sufficient numbers. In addition, though, the black core area has been faced with the necessity of shifting residents and businesses in the forced relocations of the last few years, while physical intrusions into the black core--via "neighborhood improvement projects," street and highway extensions and capitol expansion-—seem likely to continue. Small numbers plus shifting populations** and forced relocations contribute to the underdeveloped network *The exception to this general pattern is the church in the black core area, as discussed in Chapter V. **See Table 24, p. 152. 184 of organizations and institutions in Central City's black core. In short, the black subcommunity is non-autonomous: it not only lacks its own (black) political representatives, but also has little in the way of its own newspapers, organizations or businesses. This situation affects the opportunity structures72 available to potential leaders: those who would advance themselves as leaders through organizational links or by attaining prominent organizational positions find that few such groups are available in the core area. Instead, the main organizational choices are the local branches of the NAACP and thethflxnlLeague, neither of which is a neighborhood- based organization, and both of which—-in their local manifestations--implicitly require leadership by middle— class integrationists. Thus, with the exception of the black churches, the local opportunity structure for poten— tial black leaders points gw§y_from the core area--toward government jobs, service in local branches of national organizations or political office. The "bias" in this Opportunity structure is Obvious: leaders using blatant racial appeals or showing any fondness for violence are not likely to head the local Urban League or NAACP--or to hold government jobs or political offices with white constituen- cies. Only two alternatives to the existing structure of Opportunities have been developed: the creation of his own organization and following by one leader, and the development of the Malcolm X Institute, as discussed in Chapter V. 185 The organizational underdevelopment of the subcom- munity also influences leadership behavior in conflict situations. For example, given an elaborate network of groups, the "threat" of the I-496 highway could have been instantly publicized in the subcommunity, and then greeted with the preditable cries of outrage and defiance and a series of condemnations from various neighborhood organiza- tions. Instead, as we have seen, word of the highway and the impending demolitions spread slowly, and a few of those affected finally organized themselves into a small group which, following the lead of some white citizen groups, pro- tested to the city council.73 Black leaders simply do not have the backing of a large number of subcommunity organi- zations; in conflicts, they sometimes must speak alone or create their own pg hgg groups. Institutional underdevelopment in Central City has also meant that fewer individuals, organizations or busi- nesses have a stake in the maintenance of a segregated sub- community.74 Thus, when the housing market opened somewhat for middle-income blacks in the 1960's, there were few barriers to their moving in the way of institutions or busi— nesses in the core area requiring their support. The conse- quent dispersal of middle- and upper-income blacks probably weakens the chances for future deve10pment of core area institutions, though it increases the degree of racial inte- gration in the local housing market; not surprisingly, given 186 their goals, militant separatists sometimes express bitter— ness about this situation. Central City's black population is also still small in relation to the total population of the city, and thus affords a rather narrow base of support for blacks who wish to influence white leaders in the city. As discussed, even this small population is politically unmobilized, and the unavailability of the resource of large numbers is rein- forced by structural constraints. Nor does this small sub- community seem to have the potential economic resources of the larger near-by black populations of Detroit or Flint, Central City blacks having higher unemployment and under- employment, and lower median incomes.* In a sense, Central City's black leaders have been faced with a choice between two models of action: "organiz- ing the black community,‘ or gaining positions of some authority and working with whites.** Given the constraints of time and limited resources, most leaders have felt the need to give priority to one or the other approach. One Urban League official reflected on this choice: Look, I don't have the time to go out and talk to everyone in the community, and sit on street corners discussing their problems. . . . could do that because he had the time. But I think what we're doing is more practical in the long run.75 These local options are somewhat parallel to the alternatives debated nationally by blacks over the last *See this chapter, pp. 131-143. **See Chapter II, pp. 100-106. 187 decade.76 As envisioned by its proponents in Central City, community organization would entail the building of separate, distinctively black institutions in the core area. This strengthened subcommunity would then provide a power base for future dealings with the city. This mode of organi- zation implies a different kind of local leadership: most of the current middle-class leaders are not particularly adept at making the sorts of appeals necessary to build a mass base of support in the core area. However, black leaders in Central City clearly do lack certain resources: they do not have the power of large numbers, the mobilization of the subcommunity electorate, the network of supportive organizations and institutions in the core area or very abundant economic resources. Lacking these resources, most leaders have not tried to organize a permanent base of support in the core area, but have given priority to the tactics of coalition and "infiltration."* Through coalition, they have sought to find the necessary allies and to build upon white support; through infiltration, leaders have sought to locate themselves in the institutions (mainly governmental), seen as most affecting Central City b1acks--school boards, city councils, Human Relations Com- missions, Model Cities. The integrationists coming out of the NAACP seem to have been most successful in the infiltration tactic. For *This word was used by one of the more perceptive black leaders in Central City, and seems a succinct descrip- tion of the approach used. 188 example, of the members of the local NAACP's education com- mittee in the recent past, one has become a member of the Central City Board of Education, three have become local principals, one became the attorney for the Board of Educa- tion, one became director of elementary education and one member became the State Superintendent of Education. With some understatement, one former member of the committee says, "We decided to infiltrate the 'power structure.'" Given the formal and implicit role requirements of positions as local board members and administrators, middle- class blacks seem most likely to work their way into key institutional positions. However, the sustained efforts to attain these positions are not merely a passing tactic used by Central City leaders; these efforts are also among the main mechanisms of personal upward mobility. Though each new position gained is presented as a symbol of growing black influence in the city's dominant institutions, in most cases it also represents an added increment of status, and income, and perhaps power for a specific stratum of the subcommunity: the black middle class. For low-income blacks, infiltration/upward mobility frequently is not viewed as bringing group gains, but as part of a process by which black spokesmen become increasingly distant from the subcommunity.*77 When asked about how they *This generalization is supplied through leadership and informant interviews, not through non-elite interviews in the core area. 189 were viewed by low—income blacks, many of the leaders inter- viewed were aware of this problem: "You won't be believed if you come from the 'establishment,‘ and I'm seen that way," and "A lot of them call me Uncle Tom, I guess," are repre- sentative comments.78 These role strains are exacerbated by the lack of material incentives available to blacks in key positions--incentives through which followings might be built or retained in the ghetto area--and by the increasing residential separation of the middle class. For many blacks in Central City the desire to infil— trate the city's institutions has been matched by the rela- tively recent opportunity to do so. Only in the last seven years have blacks moved into leadership positions in the city council, Human Relations Commission, school board and local unions. In turn, these opportunities have brought problems. Role conflicts for black leaders with white constituencies are common, while resentment from those blacks who have not "made it" threatens leadership support in the black subcom- munity. Though Central City's black leaders sometimes claim to speak for or on behalf of blacks in the core area, in fact most of the leaders have bases of power independent of black mass support. Many of them hold either appointive or electoral Offices, which allow them to participate in the policy-making processes of various institutions and to influence the white community on issues which seem to involve the interests of blacks. It is these formal_positions or 190 offices, not strong organizational or mass support from the ghetto, which provide the basis for most leadership roles. In these positions, individuals repeatedly must speak to whites on behalf of blacks, perhaps explaining the wide currency of the spokesman concept of leadership among local black leaders. Though an active group or organizational life within the subcommunity does not provide the independent bases for competing leaders, some attempts have been made to create mass followings. Political and positional leaders have not been enthusiastic about these efforts: one leader who spent time listening to and trying to organize young blacks in the core area was faced with opposition from other black leaders and eventually joined a research company; Model Cities pro— jects have also not pleased many black spokesmen who fear that the program may provide alternative bases for leadership by "radicals."79 However, to this point, organization in the core area provides only a tenuous basis for leadership; the prob- lems of numbers, money and organization are still present. Also, the subcommunity is hardly monolithic and the ideal of "organizing the community" in fact comes to mean either organizing among black youths, as the militant separatists have attempted, or among the more conservative constituen- cies served by the core area churches. The argument of this chapter has been that the pat- terns of migration, education, employment, income and politics 191 traced here establish the range of possibilities for local black leaders, making available some resources, while fore- closing others. As discussed, though there is a large pool of potential leaders in the growing black middle class, the resources generally available in the black subcommunity are severely limited. The fundamental decision made by black leaders is that Central City's black subcommunity does not provide an independent power base sufficient in numbers, internal mobilization, organizational resources or money for them to have much impact on the life of the city. The possible impact of a highly organized subcommunity is dimin- ished even further by the structural constraints discussed in this chapter. Thus, the turning away from the subcommu- nityfito the tactics of coalition and infiltration has seemed wisest to most black leaders, particularly where such approaches complement their career and income aspirations. The situation is not so simple that these leadership choices are mere dependent variables, with the demographic data summarizing independent or even "causal" variables. Instead, black subcommunities with differing characteris- tics make certain courses seem more "sensible" than others, as many local leaders argue: We just don't have that much [511 the subcommunity]. . . . It's better to get friends than enemies, because there are a lot more of them [whites], than there are of us [blacks] in this city. . . . So I look for people who are interested and will help us--that seems the best thing to do. . . . . . . There are a few rabble- rousers around, but in this town we get a lot more done. We're realistic, you know? . . . In my job I can get peOple jobs: they just talk because that's all they're 192 able to do. . . . . . . These [other] leaders just talk for themselves and two or three other people; they don't have the skills, they don't have the things to work with, they're just talking in circles. . . . It makes more sense to me to try to influence whites than to hang around the corner shouting--that just won't work. . . .80 The "things to work with," then, seem available through coalition and infiltration, not through organization in a subcommunity of limited resources. In contrast, in the larger cities with burgeoning black populations (such as Detroit or Flint), talk of community organization, separate black institutions and black political control may seem more relevant, given subcommunity characteristics, than it does in Central City. The predominance of such tOpics in the recent literature no doubt reflects the paucity of research done on smaller black subcommunities in medium- sized cities--like Central City. The following chapter con- siders the types of leadership goals developed in this setting. l 9 3 FOOTNOTES lDouglas K. Meyer, "The Changing Negro Residential Patterns. . .".(unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, Michigan State University,l970), p. 58. 2Augustus Feweh Caine, "Patterns of Negro Protest: A Structural-Functional Analysis" (unpublished Ph.D. disser— tation, Michigan State University, 1964), pp. ll7-118. 3For information on Central City migrants from 1940- 1950, see Rose T. Brunson, "A Study of the Migrant Negro Population. . ." (unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, Michigan State College, 1955); and a description of states of origin for local migrants in Walter R. Banks, "A Source of Social Protest: The Predicament of the Status Inconsistent Negro" (unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, Michigan State University, 1963), Appendix A, Table l (4-B), p. 202. 4Meyer, op. cit., p. 61. 5Adapted from Meyer, Table 14, p. 70. 6Ibid., Table 15, p. 70. 7;p;g., p. 25. 8;p;g., pp. 92 and 94. 9James Q. Wilson, Negro Politics: The Search for Leadership (New York, 1960), p. 99. 10For example, see the research literature discussed in Chapter I. 11This is the estimate of Systems Research, Incor- porated, as reported in Improving the Quality of Urban Life: Third Year Action Plan and Planned Variation Submission, prepared by City Demonstration Agency, 1972, p. IV-ll. 122922- 13;p;g., pp. IV-ll, 12. 14Interviews with local Model Cities staff. 15Computed from Table P—6, "Economic Characteristics of the Negro Population: 1970, for Census Tracts with 400 or more Negro Population," Census Tracts, 1971, p. P-44. 194 16Third Year Action Plan, op. cit., pp. IV-25, 26. 17For example, see E. Franklin Frazier, "The Negro Family in Chicago," in Contributions to Urban Sociology, ed. by Ernest Burgess and Donald Bogue (Chicago, 1964), pp. 404-418, and similar descriptions of the black ghetto in St. Clair Drake and Horace R. Cayton, Black Metropolis (New York, 1945): pp. 174-213. 18Equal Housing Opportunity Study, prepared by Lensworth Cottrell, Jr., for Community Renewal Program, 1968, p. l. 19 Ibid., pp. 4, 8. 20Computed from Table H-2, "Structural, Equipment and Financial Characteristics of Housing Units: 1970," Census Tracts, 1971, p. H-lS. 21Cottrell, op. cit., p. 22. 22;§;§., p. 23: 89% of respondents in this sample reported avoiding real estate agents. 23Meyer, op. cit., p. 115. 24Cottrell, op. cit., p. 23. 25Meyer, op. cit., p. l49. 26£§i§° 27Relocation Study, prepared by Lensworth Cottrell, Jr., for Community Renewal Program, 1968, p. 7. 231bid. 291bid. 30Informant interview; this person was one of those who had to relocate. 31Informant interview. 32Cottrell, Relocation Study, op. cit., p. 22. 33 Informant interview. 34Meyer, op. cit., p. 165. 35Table p-6, "Economic Characteristics of the Negro POpulation: 1970, Census Tracts with 400 or more Negro POpulation," Census Tracts, 1971, p. P-44. 195 36l§i§° 37Informant interview. 38Leadership interview. 39Cottrell, ggual Housing Opportunity Study, op. cit., Table 11: "Attitude Toward City Services and Institutions, Comparisons of Rankings on Degree of Dissatisfaction by Race," p. 19. 401bid. 41Based on interviews with police and public state- ments of city officials. 42This sequence is reconstructed from interviews with officials and two persons claiming participation in the "riot," as well as articles in the Central City State Journal, Sept. 2-10, 1971. 43Abduhl M. Jamal, "Black Community Revolts in Retaliates [sic] to Murder Attempt," Project Grapevine, September 23, 1971. 44William Ringle, "Crime Rise . . . Below National Rate," State Journal, March 31, 1972. 45Norman Sinclair, "Police Deny West Side 'Slowness' Charge," State Journal. 46This was persistently reported in all interviews. 47Informant interview. 48Norman Sinclair, "Time for Action Is Now," State Journal. 49Norman Sinclair, "City Heroin War Surfaces in Police Arrests," State Journal, May 7, 1972; "19 Arrested in Heroin Ring," June 23, 1972, and "Raid Chokes Off Dope," June 24, 1972, State Journal. 50 Reports from core area black ministers. 51Norman Sinclair, "Quick Police Runs Noted," State Journal. 52Leadership interviews; these attitudes contrast sharply with the sentiments expressed by black leaders in Washington, D.C., against the new local detention laws. 53Wilson, op. cit., p. 22. 196 54Caine, op. cit., p. 209. 55For example, see Harold M. Baron, "Black Power— lessness in Chicago," in Black Liberation Politics, ed. by Edward Greer (Boston, 1971), pp. 33-34; and Edward C. - Banfield and James O. Wilson, "Negroes in City Politics," in Roots of Rebellion, ed. by Richard P. Young (New York, 1970), PP. 200-218. 56Informant interview. 57Downtown Project, p. E-l, State Journal, Feb. 13, 1972. 58Oliver P. Williams and Charles R. Adrian, "Commu- nity Types and Policy Differences," in Citnyolitics and Public Policy, ed. by James O. Wilson (New York, 1968), p. 18. 59Peter B. Clark and James O. Wilson, "Incentive Systems: A Theory of Organizations," Administrative Science Quarterly (September, 1961), pp. 129-166. 60Wilson, Negro Politics, op. cit., p. 54. 61James O. Wilson, "Two Negro Politicians: An Interpretation," Midwest Journal of Political Science (November, 1960), PP. 346-369. 62As distinguished by Selznik, "formal" co-Optation reflects a need to establish the legitimacy of an institu- tion and its actions without actually sharing power--for example, by appointing powerless "token" Negroes to certain positions. "Informal" co-optation refers to the need to adjust an institution to new centers of power in the commu- nity by actually sharing power--for example, by moving blacks into positions of authority in union locals. See Philip Selznick, TVA and the Grass Roots (Berkeley, 1953). pp. 259ff. 63These phrases were used repeatedly during inter- views. 64Staff from the A. Phillip Randolph Institute have been working to increase local black voter registration. 65For further discussion of the "time lag," see Wilson, Negro Politics, 9p: cit., pp. 24-25. 66There is debate as to the degree of political par- ticipation by urban blacks; see Morris Janowitz and Dwaine Marvick, Competitive Pressures and Democratic Consent (Ann Arbor, Michigan Governmental Studies No. 32), p. 26; Marvin E. Olson, "Social and Political Participation of Blacks," American Sociological Review (August, 1970), 197 pp. 682-697; and Nicholas Babchuck and Ralph V. Thompson, "Voluntary Associations of Negroes," American Sociological Review (October, 1962), pp. 647-655. 67Informant interview. 581bid. 69Norman Sinclair, "Racism Cries Raised at Mayor," State Journal, p. B-l. 70Norman Sinclair, "City's Minority Job Data Scored," State Journal, Feb. 11, 1972, p. B-l. 71For discussion of the range of possible power resources, see Robert A. Dahl, "The Analysis of Influence in Local Communities," in Social Science and Community Action, ed. by Charles Adrian, Institute for Community Devel- opment, Michigan State University. 72See Joseph Schlesinger, Ambition and Politics (Chicago, 1966). 73This is the sequence of events as recounted by a leader initially involved in resisting the relocations. 74Contrast this situation with the description of the Chicago subcommunity in Wilson, Negro Politics, op. cit., pp. 107-108. 75Informant interview. 76For example, contrast Bayard Rustin, "The Failure of Black Separatism," Harpers Magazine (January, 1970), pp. 25-34, with Stokely Carmichael and Charles V. Hamilton, Black Power (New York, 1967). 77Informant and leadership interviews. 78Leadership interviews. 79Informant interviews. 80Leadership interviews. CHAPTER IV PATTERNS IN LEADERSHIP GOALS As first outlined in Chapter II, the sharpest goal conflicts in Central City occur between local integrationists and separatists, with the integrationists thrusting towards the large-scale entrance of blacks into the wider society and separatists opting for greater subcommunity autonomy* This conflict is fundamental since these dissimilar goals literally move blacks in differing directions: in all its forms,.subcommunity autonomy necessarily entails a turning- inward for those engaged in "getting ourselves together" (a cliché, but one frequently repeated in leadership inter- views), while integrationists call for blacks to "start getting ourselves into the mainstream of American society."1 Each set of goals is associated with various tactical preferences. For example, for integrationists the goal of "getting ourselves ip" shapes the means of access and "infil- tration" commonly used, while separatists assume that the goal of "getting ourselves together" demands organizational efforts in the subcommunity itself. The tactics and *pp. 89—95. 198 199 organizations associated with these disparate goals* are the subject of the next chapter. This chapter uses inter- view materials and questionnaire data to develop the analy- sis of local leadership goals. The intent is not to review in detail the substantive conflicts in leadership goals, but rather to discuss some of the basic patterns linked to shared and conflicting goals: specifically, the relationship between aspects of leadership structure and similarities and differences in goals; the measurement of the properties of complexity and militance in local leadership goals; and a brief case study of the continuing conflict between status and welfare goals in the subcommunity. Goals and Leadership Structure How do leaders View each other when goals are shared or in conflict? How do respondents describe themselves as leaders? The pattern of interview responses provides ten- tative answers to these questions--answers which have implications for the structure of black leadership in Central City. When goals are shared, moderates and militants gen- erally perceive each other favorably. Even when militants feel more forceful behavior would be appropriate, they *The goals discussed in the interviews are also generally consistent with leadership Opinions and behavior; thus, all leaders classified as integrationists supported the local busing-integration plan, and all separatists opposed it. See Chapter VI. 200 extend tolerance to the moderate integrationists as persons whose positions are colored by their jobs or other pressures--many of them aren't able to be independent enough and, if you ask them privately and personally, they'll have different views than they can state in public. But they do their best.2 In turn, the moderate integrationists often state their "appreciation" for the activities of the militant integra- tionists; for example, the moderates repeatedly described one militant woman as "bright and aggressive," "a real fighter" and "almost always right." The moderate separatists also applaud the efforts of the young militants, variously describing them as "real workers," "capable" and "speaking for people." Though mod- erates differ from militants in their time-perspectives, their acceptance of differing increments of change and their tactical preferences, nevertheless they seem to sense a rudimentary division of labor in which militants (who share their general goals) are necessary: . . . we need someone to really push for integration and does that. . . . They make this [civil rights] almost a full-time activity, don't they? I guess we want people like that, and I know I listen to them 0 O O 0 [moderate integrationists] They can get people excited, sometimes that's good. . . . reminds me of the old saying, "Even in birth, there's got to be blood." See what I mean?. . . . [moderate separatists]3 The more articulate militants can sometimes persuade the moderates to join in views or activities which, if left to their own devices, the moderates would regard with great 201 skepticism. This process is particularly apparent in the busing controversy reviewed in Chapter VI. Thus, in the structure of local leadership the militants seem to have an impact on leadership activities disproportionate to their small numbers--a pattern made possible by the admir- ation of the moderates with whom they share general goals, if not specific tactics. Evaluations of other leaders alter radically when goals are not shared-—especially for the militants who accept goal-formulation as an important leadership activity. Hence, militant integrationists characterize separatists as "blow- hards," "kooks" and persons "afraid of competition"; and militant separatists view their integrationist counterparts as "not even Oreos," or "bourgies."* Although moderates seem less introspective about their leadership activities than militants, they are a self— aware category. Of the twelve leaders defined by the typol- ogy as moderates (either integrationists or separatists), seven at some point in the interview explicitly referred to themselves as "moderates." To local leaders, the term is evidently useful in labeling leadership types. Though "mod- erate" may be an aspersion elsewhere, Central City moderates freely (and, compared to their beliefs and behaviors, accu- rately) identify themselves as such--perhaps reflecting *Oreo cookies are black on the outside, white on the inside; the slang word "bourgies" was used frequently, is derived from "bourgeoisie" and is a term of contempt for middle-class blacks. 202 their numerical dominance in the local leadership structure and the low level of collective militance in the subcom— munity.* In each interview leaders were also asked directly to describe themselves and their beliefs about racial issues. Figure 5 shows both the distribution of leadership types and their self-classifications. The distribution indicates that Central City leadership is dominated by integrationist preferences and the moderate perspective. Only one militant separatist makes the final listing of those named as "out- standing leaders" by informants.** This distribution of leadership types is not surprising, however, given the sub— community characteristics analyzed in the previous chapter: the availability of the NAACP, the Urban League and "white- controlled" institutions as organizational bases for leader- ship, coupled with the paucity of resources and independent bases for leadership activities within the subcommunity, helps to skew the distribution of leadership types. Figure 5 offers a comparison of the typological classification and self—description for each leader. Leaders *See inter-city comparisons on the Grain Militance Scale, p. 220. **This leader refused to be formally interviewed by either white or black researchers. With the cooperation ofaimoderate separatist with extensive ties in the sub- community, interviews with other young militants were arranged. These persons knew the non-respondent, and could discuss his views in addition to their own. When materials from these conversations are used, they are explicitly noted as "proxy interviews." Harriet Campbell George Graeber Robert Jones Lloyd Thompson Willene Easton James Faraday Eugene Nelson 203 MILITANT INTEGRATIONISTS (name & self-description)* -- "Integrationist" -- "Believe we must live together" -- Supports "democracy and integration" MODERATE INTEGRATIONISTS (name & self-description)* Josephine Warrick -- Cavanaugh Smith Tom Wilson Rev. Johnson John Washington J. C. Wilson Ed Lawson Hattie Hosler Kensha Muhammed "I'm a moderate" "I'm definitely against racism" "For integration" "Believe in integration" "I'm not a leader" "A conservative or moderate supporter of integration" "Crusader for integration" "I care for people's needs" MODERATE SEPARATISTS (name & self-description)* "I think for myself: "I'm a rational individualist" "I see both sides--considered an odd-ball" "I'm a grass-roots person" MILITANT SEPARATIST (name & self-description)* -" none *"How would you describe yourself and your positions on racial issues?" Figure 5.--Distribution of Leadership Types and Self- Descriptions. 204 were "placed" in the typology on the basis of their responses in the interviews and their behavior on local racial issues. However, in each interview leaders were also asked "How would you describe yourself and your positions on racial issues?"* Figure 5 gives the key phrases used by respon- dents in the initial response to this question. An unexpected pattern emerged in these self- classification responses: integrationists and separatists tended to respond differently to the question, the integra— tionist leaders generally (in at least eight of the eleven responses) citing their positions on issues, calling them- selves "integrationists," "moderates," etc.; and the separatists consistently describing themselves in terms of some presumably personal characteristic, usually charac- teristics which asserted their distinctiveness or individ- uality--"rational individualist," "grass-roots person," "oddball." Initially these responses might seem puzzling because nothing in the substance of separatist views would seem to account for this consistent emphasis upon individual distinctiveness. However, the pattern of response is intel- ligible in the context of the subcommunity characteristics already discussed (in the previous chapter) and a structure of leadership dominated by integrationists. Thus, in a *As an effort to trigger verbal responses in a semi- structured interview,4 the question is more broadly stated than it might be in a questionnaire--though the language of the question was identical in each interview. Interest— ingly enough, it is the potential ambiguity of the question which led differing leadership types to interpret it in differing ways. 205 subcommunity where the resources for successful separatist leadership are scarce and where leadership is dominated by moderate and militant integrationists, the somewhat isolated separatist leaders must either be or conceive of themselves as being "different" than the other leaders--and, indeed, locally they are. This sense of difference is asserted by the separatists in comments ranging from the mild to the profane: I'm not close on issues with a lot of the others [leaders]. I try to be broad-minded and look at issues from different sides, but I think a lot of the others don't. . . . . . . A lot of our leaders look like you [speaking to interviewer]: that's a nice coat you've got on, but how are you gonna d9 anything unless you get on the ground and get it dirty? Me, I'm part of every- thing--at the grass, roots, right here, where people are. I'm not part of that other group [with coats]. . . . I'm an individualist, and I believe in having a rational basis for my views. . . . [referring to integrationists] 85% of them are fucked-up mother-fuckers. You've gotta stay down with the people and say "share me, my Ph.D.,* my resources. . . ." The middle class [leaders] are saying we have to meet other standards, standards of their materialism. They're on a lot of head-trips. They don't see fucked-up capitalism, they don't see anything. What a bunch of shit!5 In retrospect, the self-classification question asked in each interview was an ambiguous stimulus--though perhaps usefully so. The integrationists responded to the second part of the question and described their "positions on racial issues," while the out-numbered separatists evidently responded to the first part of the question ("How would you *This leader claimed to be in the process of obtain- ing a degree as an "urban psychologist." 206 describe yourself. . . ."), proclaiming the self-conscious individuality of those who are, as one informant cryptically described them, "a minority of a minority." From these interviews one may infer the basic shape of the local leadership structure: it is a bi-furcated structure with the main fissures paralleling the goal con— flicts among leaders, and it is dominated by moderate inte— grationists, with separatists acutely aware of their minority status. The general acceptance of other leaders with whom goals though not tactical preferences are shared and the contrasting excoriations directed at leaders with divergent goals suggests the salience of goal consensus. Goal consensus has a "structuring effect" on local leaders in that commu- nications and organizational activities are shared only when agreement on goals exists. Not surprisingly, when asked in the questionnaire to name the other "important black leaders in Lansing,‘ 76.7% of the nominees were leaders in agreement with the respondent's stated goals.* In addition, leaders unanimously perceived the integrationist consensus in Central City. When asked in the interviews whether their views were similar to those of other black leaders, all integrationists responded affirmatively and almost all separatists** responded *Of the seventy-three names suggested as leaders, fifty-six were judged to share goals with the interviewees; the question asked was "In your judgment who are the most important Black leaders in Central City?" See Appendix B. **One individual refused to answer, claiming the question was "irrelevant" to his views. 207 negatively, characterizing most other leaders as "NAACP- types," "not thinking on the same lines," etc. Thus, though Central City leadership has serious goal conflicts between integrationists and separatists, the numerical dominance of the integrationists is commonly recognized. Goal Characteristics: Complexity and Militance The variables of complexity and militance also can be used to characterize the nature of local leadership goals. These variables are important for analyses of leadership behavior: the differing levels of militance presumably make various leadership activities (negotiation, protests, riots, compromise, etc.) more or less probable, while the varying levels of complexity in goal formulation may indi— cate the ideological sophistication of the leadership elite. As expected, the quality of leaders' discussions of goals varied a great deal. Though almost all were able to state general goals, some statements reflected prior thought and clearly ordered preferences while others consisted of a few sketchy and disconnected phrases. All relevant interview responses (on goals) were evaluated and categorized by the criteria of complexity. Three mutually exclusive categories resulted: the first category, in which interviewee responses consisted only of broad phrases, with no particular development of statements or use of supporting arguments; category two, in which respondents coupled statements of preference with at least 208 some effort to develop or to support their answers;* and the third category, where statements were both devel- oped and supported by additional argumentation, with the implications and ramifications of the preferred goals fre- quently being discussed as well. Fortunately, these inter- view responses were clearly patterned, and their categorization poses no problem.** *For purposes of convenience, these responses are categorized as "average" in Tables 35-40. **The following are examples of these differing cate- gories of response: Category 1 Q. As a leader in the community which kinds of goals do you favor? A. (long pause) Progress, I'd say, mainly. Q. Progress of what kind? A. Progress to help people. Catggory 2 Q. As a leader in the community, which kinds of goals do you favor? . The goals of integration. Why? I look at it this way: ten or fifteen years from now if everyone was getting on a boat for the same planet [sic], we'd all be getting on together--that's how I think of it. >(D> Category 3 Q. As a leader:h1the community, which kinds of goals do you favor? A. I'm an integrationist, mainly for economic reasons. After all, what are the alternatives? Separation would make us a second-class small nation within a larger nation. Control of industry is in the hands of an relatively few men; we don't have the economic base for any kind of separation. There is also, I think, personal value in having contact with other [kinds of] peOple in an integrated situation, but economics is the greatest factor. . . . We are deter- mined to enter the system—-and we can. Separation cuts you off from access and decent education. . . . We're really talking about social mobility, not so 209 These variations in responses are clear, but the variables which might help to account for these differences are more difficult to ascertain. Tables 35-40 indicate how specific variables (drawn from questionnaire responses) are associated or not associated with the varying levels of com- plexity in leadership responses. As illustrated by Table 35, the income distribution for leaders giving "most complex" responses starts at a higher figure than for other types of respondents and has more individuals in the "520,000+" cate- gory, while the "least complex" respondents are more uniformly distributed through the income categories.* The association of incomes with complexity of responses is not a simple one since other types of respondents are also represented with incomes from $16,000-$20,000+, but taken as a group, category three respondents ("most complex") are clearly the most pros- perous leaders. One might hypothesize that the quality of responses would correlate with geographic origins--and indeed many of the leaders themselves suggested this relationship.** How- ever, as Table 36 suggests, the association between geographic rmufli race. If it weren't blacks it'd be some other group trying to get in--and they've always had to work through that system. We [blacks] want to grab onto the system and make something of it. . . . *Viewed collectively, these incomes further support the description of middle—class black leadership in Central City. **Individuals from "out of town" were variously called "our most SOphisticated," "most aggressive" and "smartest" leaders. 210 Table 35.-—Complex responses by income distribution. Income $20,000 + ~ ’0 .0 18,000-19,999 . 'g f 16,000-17,999 ~ ’g 3. 14,000-15,999 ~ I, 3' 12,000-13,999 - ’0 090' 10,000-11,999 - I ' 8,000- 9,999 . 0’ , Least Complex Average Most Complex (n=5) (n=3) (n=7) Table 36.--Complexity of responses by initial geographic location. Location Responses Raised in Came from Came From Lansing South* Northern State* Least complex 0 l 4 Average 1 2 0 Most complex 2 2 3 Y = -.l4** *After age 18. **Goodman-Kruskal index of order-association. «’0 211 Table 37.--Complexity of responses, by leadership type. -____ _,,_____ Type Responses Least Complex Average Most Complex Militants 0 l 2 Moderates 5 2 5 y = -.58 Table 38.--Complexity of responses, government jobs. Position Responses Government Jobs All Others Least complex 4 1 Average 2 1 Most complex 5 2 Y = .14 Pc = .57 Table 39.--Complexity of responses, by educational level. Education Responses Less Than High School College High School Graduate Graduate Least complex 2 2 1 Average 0 2 1 Most complex 0 0 7 Y = .92 Pc = .96 212 Table 40.--Complexity of responses by contacts with white leaders. Least Complex Average Most Complex None or few 1 0 0 Some contacts 3 l 1 Many contacts 1 2 6 y = .82 Pc = .91 origins (in Central City, northern or southern states) and the nature of interview responses is negative.* Table 37 also shows a negative relationship between militance and moderation in leadership types and the complexity of leader- ship discussions of goals, though militants are "under- *Two related statistics are used in reporting the data of Tables 35-40: the Goodman-Kruskal index of order- association (y) and the probability of concordance (Pc). The index requires only an ordinal scale of measurement, assumes no specific probability law and presents a simple interpretation when a number of ties are present in either ranking. The index states a difference in probability for same versus different ordering on the underlying variables for a randomly selected pair--conditional to a set of untied pairs. Though the relationships are presented as of interest in the context of this discussion, the usual approximations to find the level of significance cannot be used because of the small N in this research. Also used here is a related statistic, (l+y/2), the probability of concordance. Pc provides a direct probability inter- pretation of these data: for example, in terms of Table 38, Pc is an estimate of the probability that of two observa- tions taken at random where one represents an individual holding a job in government and the other does not, the one with the governmental position is also the one with the "most complex" responses on questions about goals. In this instance, Pc=.57. Further information is avail- able on these statistics in the references at the end of this chapter. 213 represented" in the local leadership. A number of infor- mants also suggested that the most sophisticated black leaders were those "working for the government." Table 38 does show some relationship between the nature of occupa- tional positions and the nature of interview responses; when occupations are dichotomized into government and non— government jobs and compared to responses, y=.l4, Pc=.57.* However, the strongest association between variables is that between education and complexity.** Leaders who are college graduates are best able to state racial goals in complex terms, developing supporting argumentation and point- ing out the implications of their positions, as seen in Table 39. These are also the leaders most likely to have extensive contact with white leaders in Central'fCityna'n important resource for a leadership structure not resting upon organi- zation in the subcommunity itself. Table 40 shows the *For a further analysis of the impact of occupational positions, see the discussion of role strain in Chapter V. **One can speculate whether higher education itself is a prerequisite for the degree of complexity exhibited in some of the responses; lying behind the measureable variable (college graduation) may be other possibly more important factors. However, given the data available through questionnaires and interviews, level of education is associated with qualitatively different responses. Using an index of predictive association for categorical data, one can state that in predicting the nature of interview responses from the level of education, informa— tion about the latter category reduces the probability of error by .50. 214 association between complexity and the level of contact with white leaders.* What then are the characteristics of the most ideo- logically sophisticated black leaders in Central City? Compared to other leaders, they are somewhat more likely to have higher incomes and jobs in government, and they are much more likely to be college graduates having many contacts with white leaders in the city. This composite "picture" suggests again the basic sources of influence for local black 1eaders--personally high status, discretionary time for leadership roles and opportunities to influence key policy-makers. Having examined the varying complexity with which racial goals are discussed, another pattern in the inter- views should also be noted: the manner in which many local leaders conceptualize racial problems tends to reflect their occupational roles. Thus, a black union president empha- sizes the need for blacks and whites "to get together and negotiate their differences"--comparing black-white relations to the labor-management sessions with which he is familiar. A black lawyer discusses the busing controversy only in terms of possible litigation, never considering the rallying of political support for his views. "Mother Hosler,‘ wife *"How would you characterize your contacts with white leaders in the Central City area?" Many contacts Some contacts Very few contacts No contacts 215 of a Baptist minister and, by her own frequently repeated description, "a good Christian," finds "the answer to all our [racial] problems" in "love and believing in God"; when asked whether local conflicts over school integration could be resolved, she urges upon the interviewer a pamphlet of biblical quotations (called "Nuggets of Wisdom"), recom— mends a book about "educating the whole man" (by Pat Boone), and conceptualizes the "race problem" in terms of religious universalism: We've got to be together on the same level because God made all of us—-you [whites] just came out of the stove a little before we did! If I cut my hand, it's the same red blood as when you cut yours. There'll be no peace until we come together and till we believe in God. . . . A more current argot of counter-culture cliches and psychological jargon is used to analyze local racial con- flicts by a black leader working as an "inner-city Mental Health co-ordinator." We have to be concerned with whether we are "real" persons. We have to have an open mind and interact freely with persons and situations. . . . I think the greatest racial problem we have is that it's so easy to intellectualize and not internalize. . . . We have cognitive skills but no affective skills, so we have to raise the level of awareness [in order to] get ourselves together. . . .8 Asked how he feels as the only black on a Board of Education controlled by white conservatives, this leader maintains that he can diminish racial struggles by "turning every executive session into a sensitivity session." 216 For many leaders,* then, racial tensions are viewed not as matters involving mobilization, organization, conflict, coalition-building or any of the usual terms of group strug- gle, but as matters necessitating only "negotiation" akin to labor and management, or litigation, or shared religious belief, or even "raising the level or awareness [by] drop- ping our masks." Thus, for some leaders the conventional terms of racial conflict seem to be supplanted by modes of thought and description peculiar to their occupational role-- whether labor union president, lawyer, organizer of religious services for "Senior Citizens" or "Mental Health Co-ordinator" in the inner-city. This pattern is further evidence of the seemingly low level of ideological sophistication among local leaders** and the prevalence of "part-time" leadership roles. Where priorities of time and energy must be allotted to reg- ular jobs, it is perhaps not surprising that the language and concepts peculiar to an occupation "carry over" into the manner in which an individual conceptualizes problems in a part-time role as a black leader. Militance "Militance" is another variable commonly used in descriptions of black leaders. The Grain Militance Scale, one of the few attempts at measuring leadership militance *This pattern of "occupational carry—over" can be found in the interview responses for seven of the fifteen leaders. **However, in only one of the interviews with the leaders categorized earlier as giving the "most complex" responses is there any evidence of this pattern. 217 and first developed in an analysis of school desegregation concepts in eight northern cities,9 was included in the Central City questionnaire. The scale was extended in order to test for changes over time, with leaders being asked to reconstruct how they might have responded to the same ques- tions a decade ago.* Table 41 illustrates the expected "militant" responses, based upon Crain's research. The first three items catch the "willingness to take action"10 found in militant leaders impatient for the decisive and comprehen- sive change, with the characteristic time-orientations and preferred increments of change reflected in items one and two.** Item four presumably reflects the View that strong white opposition can only be overcome through militant pres- sures. Though the scale has its difficulties, it is one of the few systematic measures of the much-talked-about "mili- tance,‘ and is specifically useful in three ways for this research: it provides one more method for testing the cate- gorizing of local leaders as militants and moderates (e.g., those grouped as militants "should" have higher militance scores), it provides a collective "militance score" for Central City leadership which can then be compared with the actual behavior of local leaders (e.g., a high score should be linked to a large number of militant behaviors),*** and *See Appendix B. **pp. 85-87. ***Crain does find this relationship, pp. 346-351. 218 most importantly, local use of the scale allows for compari- sons to leadership beliefs in several other northern cities, as develOped by Crain, et al. Table 4l.--Crain Militancy Scale. Militant O inion Item* p Response** * 1. Too many times blacks** have compromised when they could have made more progress agree if they had held out a little longer. 2. Unless you dramatize an issue through protests and demonstrations it seems agree that there is scarcely any progress made. 3. It is sometimes better to have white resistance to black requests, because then you have a basis for bringing the agree overall problem to the public attention. 4. The average white man really wants the . disagree black man to have his rights. *Crain, et al., isolated this scale by pulling together associated items from a larger questionnaire used in their research. Measures of association (Q) between the items: 2 3 4 1 .45 .73 .89 2 --- .62 .69 3 --- --- .54 **When first used in 1968, the items used "Negro." ***The scale is "scored" by allotting one point for each militant response. 219 Though this scale assumes a kind of global "mili- tance" and does not distinguish militant leaders by the possibly differing content of their goals (as elaborated in the typology in Chapter II), nevertheless a comparison of militance scores by leadership types is interesting. Table 42 shows that the scores do move in the expected direction, militant integrationists having higher scores than either of the moderate groupings. A collective militance score can also be calculated. Given the argument of Chapter III, in which the subcommunity is described as lacking the resources and independent bases of leadership necessary to sustain many militant leaders, and given the large number of moderates (twelve out of six— teen) in the final leadership listing, Central City leaders should have a comparatively low collective militance score. In fact, local leadership responses on the Crain Scale do support this inference. Table 43 compares Central City's "pooled" mili- tance score against the cities studied by Crain.ll In Central City, the scale was also extended over time: in addition to being asked their present response to each item, the questionnaire also elicited what leaders thought their responses would have been in 1963.* Although respondents' reconstructions of their past beliefs may be faulty, a clear pattern emerges in Table 44: despite a decade of political and racial upheaval, the rise of "new" blackideologies,rioting in major cities and what is *See Appendix B. 220 Table 42.--Militance scores, by leadership types. s .Militant Moderate Moderate Nfilitant 3‘ Integrationists Integrationists Separatists Separatists Scores 2.00 1.50 1.25 --- Table 43.--Collective militance scores, by city. _ ___.__..—___—— City Score High Scores St- LOUiS 2.52 Bay City* 2.40 Buffalo 1.76 Medium Scores San Francisco 1.72 Newark 1.60 Central City 1.53 Low Scores Pittsburgh 1.32 Baltimore 1.32 *In Crain's research, Bay City is a pseudonym. Table 44.-—Item responses, over time. Militant 1963 1973 Response Agree Disagree Agree Disagree Changes Item 1 agree 7 8 6 9 1* Item 2 agree 5 10 5 10 0 Item 3 agree 1 l4 1 l4 0 Item 4 disagree 3 12 3 12 0 *The direction of the single reported change is inter- esting: a decade ago this respondent, the local president of the NAACP, would have agreed that blacks had compromised too soon--whereas he now disagrees. His response to the open- ended question ("How do you think your own views on racial issues have changed over the past ten years?") suggests his thinking: "I'm not as bitter as I was years ago, and I have developed new techniques that can be employed. At times, com- promise will speed the achievement of goals. . . ." 221 conventionally reported as an increase in black "militance," the local leaders report that their views have undergone little change in the last ten years. One might argue that these responses are only recon- structions of past positions--reconstructions possibly flawed by either inaccuracy or attempts to reduce cognitive dis- sonance. However, an additional Open-ended item in the questionnaire turns up similar responses: asked "How do you think your own views on racial issues have changed over the last ten years?" eight leaders responded by citing some changes, but none of the responses suggested any increase in militancy.* As a further check on changes over time, in several interviews** leaders were explicitly asked to talk about their past views. The initial assumption was that at least some of the moderate separatists would report having "grown" into their current views after shifting away from the concern with integration goals in the early civil rights movement. Again, though, the verbal comments were consistent with the questionnaire responses on both the militance scale and the open-ended question; the tone of the responses was captured by one man's comment: "Basically, I've always believed what I believe [now], and I haven't seen any reason to change."13 *The responses to this question were disparate, and not easily coded. Examples of these responses are listed at the end of this chapter.12 **This probing for past positions was conducted in nine of fifteen leadership interviews. 222 This persistent claim of stable beliefs over an eventful decade is consistent with other characteristics of the local leadership. For example, with an average age of 45.7 years, most of the black leadership matured in the 1940's and assumed leadership roles in the next decade after the 1954 Supreme Court decision.* By the following decade, most of the local leaders were "established" in their occupations, fami- lies and roles in the subcommunity--and presumably settled in many of their beliefs as well. The "middle-aged" status of most leaders may explain why the resurgence of black nation— alisms, "black power" and black-pride left little imprint on their views. Occupational roles may also have limited the impact of these "new" ideas. Consider the seven leaders grouped in the earlier "most complex" category of responses: if one were to assume that these respondents would be most likely to take seriously "ideas" and "new" currents of thought, a survey of their jobs is revealing. Most of these positions--a state representative, a worker for the county's mental health program, an Equal Opportunity Officer in the state government, a lawyer for the Board of Education, and directorship roles in the Urban League and the city's Human Relations Commission-- place leaders in institutional settings where the advocacy of "radical" perspectives would be rather unwelcome. In addition, the relative lack of ideological sophistication *For a brief discussion of the impact of the Court's decision on leadership behavior, see pp. 29—30, 223 (only seven of the leaders being able fully to develop and support their arguments on goal preferences) and the low militance scores seem consistent with the rather static intellectual histories reported by Central City leaders. Thus, while elsewhere ideological wars have raged over organ- ization of the lumpenproletariat, the forms of black identity and the application of Marxist doctrine to black subcommuni- ties, in Central City most leaders have held firmly to the traditional goal of integration.* Conflict and Choice: The Kingsley Facility The "man on the street" in black subcommunities is usually described as holding to welfare goals and as being more attracted by immediate and tangible gains for himself and for blacks than by status goals.14 If Central City leaders are dominated by integrationists, occasional con- flicts with the subcommunity seem likely; also, painful leadership choices between status goals and immediate gains may occur--as predicted by Wilson. These patterns of conflict and choice for local leaders can be seen in the controversy over the Kingsley Facility. Since early 1970 the City Parks and Recreation Depart- ment had on its drawing boards plans to establish a "Neigh- borhood Facility" on the west side of Central City. This *What integration means, however, has been revised by the militant integrationists. See the discussion of "raising the standard" during the busing controversy, Chapter VI. 224 Facility would house various social service agencies and could provide a gathering place for residents and groups in the black neighborhoods of the west side. Working with Model Cities' representatives, city planners eventually expanded the original plan to include not only a Neighborhood Facility, but also an indoor community recreation center and a large amount of open space for park-like areas. These additions to the initial plan were viewed as responses to the com— plaints of neighborhood residents that both "open areas" and indoor recreational facilities were unavailable in the "inner- city."15 Several meetings between planners and residents of the neighborhood were arranged and the assistant Parks and Recreation Director characterized the meetings as providing "plenty of neighborhood in-put."l6 At the same time, much discussion among local school administrators and members of the Board of Education centered upon the need to replace the physically deteriorating Michigan Avenue Elementary School, which was also located in the black neighborhood on the city's west side. During the pre- vious school year, the Board had been bitterly attacked by black parents for the condition of the school. Tentatively, school and city officials began to link the two projects: though formally separate efforts, a new elementary school could be located in close proximity to the expanded Neighbor- hood Facility--recreation center-~park area, thus providing what planners envisioned as one large, centrally located community center with educational and service functions; part 225 of the attractiveness of the project was its provision of features often cited as lacking on the west side by black residents themselves--an attractive new school, coupled with service and recreational facilities and a park-like setting. In January of 1973, the City Council authorized the Parks Department to seek a $300,000. state recreation grant17 to help finance construction of the proposed community center. Officials pr0posed that the city acquire a site in the highest density black neighborhood on the west side. Meanwhile, plans for a new elementary school had progressed to the point that three slightly differing staff proposals had been circulated among members of the Board of Education.18 All of the plans called for an elementary school of about 650 pupils to be located on 7.5 acres some- where "west of Logan in the Huron-Allegan area."19 The main problem lay in the vague "somewhere." With the Board's pre- vious rescinding of a busing plan which had begun integration of the elementary schools, the site selection posed serious problems: for the majority of board members wed to the concept of "neighborhood schools," the location of a new elementary school in the west side's black neighborhood meant a probable renewal of battles with the local NAACP, which already had filed a desegregation suit against the board in federal court; on the other hand, any further delay in build- ing the new school would offend the neighborhood parents who had been pressing for a new school facility on the west side. Frustration was expressed by one Board member: 226 How the heck is an intelligent person supposed to guess what's going on? Half of 'em [blacks] want a new school and the rest don't know what they want: sometimes they can't talk about anything but the new school but when we turn around they're down on Kingsley. . . . I'll tell you one thing, though: we're not going to start busing kids. around again . . . but we _d_g need a new school. . .20 The NAACP Executive Board was also not pleased with the prospect of renewed conflict with the board. For the time, the general feeling seemed to be that their federal court case would determine the long-run outcome of the con- flict with the Board. To the moderate integrationists the prospect of renewed conflict over school sites and attendance zones was not appealing; the recent recall vote,* special election and general election for Board members (all trig- gered by the busing controversy) had eliminated the NAACP's access to the Board of Education, if not to the Superin- tendent and administrative staff. Worst of all, opposition to a site located in the black subcommunity would align the organization against the apparent preferences of many parents and even the public statements of NAACP members (though these demands for a new school were always accompanied by the proviso that the school be integrated). Nevertheless, the NAACP leadership knew that eventually they would have to establish some position on the possibility of a new school. The first step was the NAACP's scheduling of an "information meeting" with the school Superintendent in April. No unskilled politician, the Superintendent brought along his Elementary Education Director and Advisory *See Chapter VI. 227 Specialist-—both blacks. Possible school size, location, programs and cost were outlined, and the Superintendent stated his preference for an integrated school.* However, concerns about the educational prospects for the new school were crystallized as the possible links between the Kingsley Place Neighborhood Facility and the new school became clearer. Though the school and the Facility by this time were being presented as "completely separate projects,"21 a comparison of the likely sites for the two projects showed them to be either contiguous or only one block apart, depending upon the amount of land finally acquired. The brief history of the "West Side Drop-in Center," also located in the core area, clarifies the distrust many parents and NAACP members felt for the proposed new Facility. Established after local disturbances in the late 1960's, the West Side Drop-in Center was supposed to provide an informal recreation and social center for black youngsters, and a place for neighborhood groups to meet. Instead, according to middle-class parents, the Center quickly became one of the drop-off points for heroin distribution in Central City (the Center is known locally as "the drug-store"), a haven for street-corner drug peddlers and a center for occasional gang *The Superintendent's preferences were never in question, though; the NAACP concern was with a school board newly dominated by members of "Citizens for Neigh- bornood Schools," an anti-busing organization. 228 activities.* Its location--the corner of Butler and Kalamazoo--has become a short-hand phrase symbolizing ghetto degradation to the middle-class: "If you want to see how the other half lives, go to Butler and Kalamazoo!"22 Much of the blame for the situation is placed upon the former director of the Drop-in Center and what one informant des- cribed as his "goddamned laissez-faire attitude." The former director now sat as the sole black member of the school board, and vocally supported both the Facility and the new school for the west side. One NAACP member expressed a common reaction to the prospect of the closely linked Facility and new school: . . . When I heard about it, I could only think of one thing: the Drop-in Center, the Drop-in Center, the Drop-in Center! That place [the Facility] will turn out the same or probably worse, and that's all we need. The dealers and also that group that used to hang around the [Drop-in] Center will have a new place to have fun now . . . [and] our kids will be in that school sur- rounded by that group. You can see why we're upset.23 Indeed, a glance at a map of the relevant area dem— onstrates why parents were concerned. If siting arrangements were completed, the new and probably segregated elementary school either would be situated next to or only one block from the prospective dangers of the Kingsley Facility--and only two blocks from the certain problems of the West Side Drop-in Center (see Figure 6). Few physical arrangements *Following the murder of a Black Panther in another city, his friends invaded the Drop-in Center looking for the suspected murderers. Another time youngsters were lined up against the wall and "inspected" by members of a "gang." Such stories were constantly repeated during interviews. 77' >0 _ \(vy Chelsea Aye. _w l :1 1 229 Washtenaw St. amp-In Cantu W. Kalamazoo St. Butler. Blvd. S. Iogan St. Figure 6.--Relevant Sites in Kingsley Controversy. 230 of public facilities could have so neatly symbolized to middle-class parents of elementary school children the pos- sibilities of downward-mobility, physical violence and the dangers of drugs for their children. Though the militant integrationists in the NAACP would have Opposed on principle the building of a probably segregated elementary school on the west side, it was the belatedly perceived linkage of the plan for the new school with the plans for a new Facility--with its connotations of another Drop-in Center--which alarmed the moderates and pushed the organization toward public opposition. However, at the same time, a quick tour of the aging Michigan Avenue School or a walk through the black west side would demon- strate the need for an adequate school facility and park and recreational space--demands which also were being directed to the City Council or the Board of Education. Thus, the dilemma for the NAACP was a choice between its traditional status goal or an immediate and tangible "gain" for the subcommunity. Finally, though, the NAACP came out with a statement expressing its "concern" over the new school and Facility. The formal statement was a re-expression of the fear that the new school would have a nearly total black enrollment-- an objection originally stated in the April meeting with the school Superintendent. But the new elements in the organi- zation's statement were its comments on the proposed Kingsley Facility: the city was accused of building another facility 231 that would be a replica of the Drop-in Center with its "known drug traffic," and the NAACP charged that to locate a school near such a facility was improper; to the president of the NAACP, the building of the Facility was simply "another attempt to corral blacks in one area."24 What elicited the public statement, though, was not only the prospect of a new segregated school but the accompanying likelihood of a mainly black Facility, recreation center and park dominated by "drugs and bums"* and placed next to the new school. In response to the organization's accelerating oppo- sition a mutually arranged meeting was set up between city officials (from the Parks and Recreation Department), Model Cities representatives (both staff and citizens) and the NAACP Executive Board. Of these three groups only the Execu— tive Board opposed the projects. The Parks officials natu- rally supported their department's proposals, and Model Cities had been an active participant in planning the pro- jects and suggesting possible sites. In addition--especially in comparison to the NAACP-—most of the Model Cities partici- pants saw themselves and their agency as somehow representa- tive of the true sentiments of the west side subcommunity. This faith was based upon areal representation of the west side in the various boards and task forces of the agency, extensive staff contacts with black residentsixlthe area, the agency's projects, many of which were directed to the *This phrase was used in a public meeting about the Facility. 232 black core area, and what Model Cities staff usually des- cribed as a high level of "citizen involvement" in the work of the agency.* In contrast, to many persons associated with Model Cities, the NAACP appeared "irrelevant" or "middle- class." In turn, many of those prominent in the NAACP were skeptical about the black leadership at Model Cities, a view stated by one of the more articulate members of the NAACP Executive Board: Many people who would like to be leaders--and this is the Model Cities' philosophy--loudly proclaim that they represent the community, but that's just a ploy: without those jobs [at Model Cities], they'd be gone in a minute. . . . We're starting to get away from this community "grass-roots movement"--it has always been the educated middle-class which has provided the leadership [for blacks]. . . .2 With this background of Model Cities-NAACP rivalry, plus evidence of "neighborhood in-put" at least on the Facility project, some city officials may have realized that the cards were somewhat stacked against the eleventh-hour opposition of the NAACP. Accounts vary of the meeting of the planners, Model Cities representatives and NAACP Execu- tive Board, and precisely what happened in the meeting is a matter of dispute. To one outside observer from the school Superintendent's administrative staff, the outcome was clear enough: . . . The [the NAACP] had to get off this issue [the new school and Neighborhood Facility] because they heard from the community. No one agreed with themé . . . so they backed off when they caught hell. . . . 6 *For evaluation of these claims, see Chapter V. 233 The president of the NAACP describes the same events rather differently: No, there was no pressure at all. We've always known a school is needed there, but this [proposed] one had no racial balance. We never changed our position. We talked among ourselves about all these problems [the need for facilities]--we knew all about them. . . .27 At any rate, the NAACP backpedaled somewhat. Though not declaring its earlier statement inoperative, a week after the meeting with Model Cities representatives and city planners, the NAACP authorized a "clarifying statement" by the branch president. We have been wrongly accused of being opposed to the development of this facility. We just expressed some concerns about it, which we still have. . . . [Though recognizing the need for such facilities] we want to make sure these facilities don't serve a segregated clientele. . . .28 The statement repeated the demand for an elementary school "operated on a desegregated basis," but offered a compromise with city planners as to the location of the Kinglsey Facility --asking only that it "not be placed in close proximity to the school [so] as to jeopardize the uninterrupted and safe education of the youngsters attending." After the "clarification," the projects in question continued to move forward. The Kingsley Place Co-ordinating Committee, headed by the City Planning Director, met with residents in the affected areas to advise them of condemnation and relocation procedures; the school board continued its consideration of the west side site; projected completion of the project was scheduled for late 1974 or early 1975. 234 Summary: Goals and Leadership Behavior The eventual resolution of the Kingsley controversy is uncertain, but the events of this conflict suggest the importance of some of the patterns discussed in this chap- ter: (1) the continued conflicts between welfare goals and status goals, old and new; (2) the structuring effect of shared goals as suggested by communications during the con- flict and the emergence of issue-areas; (3) the low level of ideological sophistication displayed by some of the actors in the controversy and (4) the low level of militance in the local leadership. Most clearly, the outlines of this dispute within the subcommunity conform to the classic pattern of conflict- ing status goals and welfare needs. Indeed, this local controversy is an analogue to Wilson's discussion of the Chicago hospital which also was to be segregated by virtue of its location:29 while those with welfare orientations were pleased with the new facilities and services to be located in the subcommunity, other leaders and organizations were concerned with the probable racial segregationcflfthese facilities in both Chicago then and Central City now. The NAACP leadership was well aware that the organi- zation's position conflicted with the desires of some* resi— dents of the black core area. In fact, the newly elected *As with the busing issue, leaders could never be sure how many "some" were, and had to depend on various straws in the wind--casual contacts, phone calls, relocation meet- ings. Asked if there were subcommunity pressures on the NAACP, one leader said laconically, "We did get feedback." 235 branch president upon taking office had announced Too long the NAACP has been labeled a clique organization of professional or successful blacks. There has been an absence of communication with the total community, and especially with those black people who need advance- ment the most.30 Faced now with opposition from at least some elements of that "total community,‘ but also aware of its traditional concern for integration, the NAACP carefully positioned itself: the organization did not oppose the Facility pgp gg-- in fact, they welcomed it—-but they insisted that the facili- ties pgp serve a "segregated clientele." Realistically, though, to locate a Neighborhood Facility offering various social services and an indoor recreation center in the heart of the black core area was almost to guarantee a "segregated clientele."* The real choice for the subcommunity was the simple but unpalatable one: either the Facility would not be built (or be built elsewhere), in which case it would not provide the immediate services in the core area, or it would be located in the black neighborhood--in which instance it would amost certainly be segregated. The dilemma was a *There were a few wistful hopes held by leaders ducking the trade-off at the center of the controversy: A. I hope there's a middle ground. I think what we have to do is build Kingsley, and then make it so attractive that lots of whites will come down here. But would they do that? If we made it a good place to go. How? I don't know really. Maybe we could give green stamps. [Laughs] {P'O'F'IO 236 familiar one--as were the goal conflicts first pointed to by Wilson in a previous decade. Rather surprisingly, not only the traditional goals of the integrationists, but also the "new" status goals of the separatists seemed to clash with the city's construction of a Neighborhood Facility. The reported "street-talk"* was that the city was going to establish in the Facility a medical center which would treat Negroes as "guinea pigs,"31 and that the entire project was only an effort to "buy off" blacks with a Facility while tearing down more homes in the subcommunity. One self-identified "nation-builder" commented that The right way is to do things for ourselves. . . . N93 what's going to happen? The city's going to run the place [the Neighborhood Facility]--not us: Black people should have control. . . . They're going to come in here and rip us apart again [by condemning homes and relocating residents] and we've got to have the power to stop that. . . .32 Thus, the welfare gains promised by the new Facility may have conflicted not only with the traditional status goal of integration, but with the new status goal of subcommunity autonomy as well. These new status goals, then, are not just a collection of hoped-for tangible gains, accepted in lieu of integration--but a vision of an autonomous subcommu— nity, controlling its own institutions and powerful enough to deal on an equal basis with the white society. When *The information in this sentence is "second—hand," as reported by an acquaintance in a city agency having "street contacts." However, the quoted comment is from an interview. 237 blacks, who "should have control," find instead that "the city's going to run the place," the militant separatists may View the Facility with as much distrust as the militant integrationists--though for different reasons. What this suggests is that it is perhaps not just the differing con- tents of the status goals which lead to conflicts with wel- fare gains, but also the fppm which these goals take: both the new and old status goals quickly translate into matters of principle which often conflict with the messy exigencies of city politics and the compromises and trade-offs involved in projects promising tangible gains for the subcommunity. To leaders with either set of status goals, any immediate program or project is not a "thing in itself," valuable only for the benefits it may bring, but rather an object to be aligned with the ultimate goals of either integration or subcommunity autonomy. Thus, in Central City, those with the old status goals distrust a Facility likely to "serve a segregated clientele," while persons holding to the new status goals scorn the project as not controlled by blacks. Wilson's initial analysis of status-welfare conflicts, then, can be expanded to include the new status goals* as well as the goal of integration. However, during the brief controversy more than latent goal conflict was involved in the ambiguity of relations *However, unlike the integrationists, the militant separatists were never directly involved in the controversy over the Facility and the school. Lacking the organizational and institutional resources of Model Cities or the NAACP, their role was limited to "street-talk." 238 between leaders and the residents of the subcommunity. For example, none of the NAACP leaders actually lived in the black core area where the Facility was to be built. In the absence of any certainty as to the majority views of the subcommunity,* the tactic adopted by all parties was to claim (in public) that they spoke for "the people" or "the commu— nity"; planners pointed to "neighborhood in-put," Model Cities to their contacts and programs in the subcommunity and the NAACP to its record of local support. This tactic-- in even more exaggerated form--was also used on the busing issue (Chapter VI). Recognizing that there was no discern- able groundswell of support for any of the black leaders or organizations, city officials were able to push ahead with their projects. The Kingsley issue also suggests again the struc— turing effect of shared goals. Communications between individuals with conflicting goals were rare: the Model Cities representatives never talked to the NAACP leader- ship about site location or the Facility; the black member of the Board of Education "pushed" the new west side school, but never discussed his position with the integrationists; nor did the NAACP leadership communicate with either the Board member or the Model Cities staff--instead, the branch president said, "We talked among ourselves." *Opinion theorists to the contrary, all the actors on this issue assumed that there really was a majority opinion in the subcommunity, if only it could be found. 239 Shared goals and communications help to shape dif- fering issue-areas* for the local leaders. While the focus was on providing what was viewed as a long-overdue material benefit to the black core area, the Model Cities and Board of Education staffs could work without much visible interest by the local NAACP. However, when a threat to the principle and practice of integration became evident in the projects, the NAACP actively entered what it regarded (accurately) as its issue-area: the racial integration of the school system and other public facilities. Shared goals not only help to carve out the issue- areas which leaders come to regard as their main interest, but also influence leaders and organizations in terms of the "cues" to which they respond. The NAACP, for example, never showed more than rhetorical interest in the planning and development of the new facilities (as Model Cities did), nor did it make an issue of the latest black families to be "relocated" for the projects,** nor did it criticize any specific feature of the plan (aside from the location of *Issue areas are specified and discussed further in Chapter V. **The city already had a long waiting list of relo- cated families needing adequate housing. Nevertheless, no black leader even mentioned a concern that the scheduled projects would generate still more relocated families. The NAACP was mainly concerned with the issue of integration, and those supporting the Facility thought the project worth the cost of increased relocations. Only one (white) city councilwoman criticized the city for the relocations neces- sitated by the scheduled construction. See discussion of relocations, pp. 153-157. 240 the Facility)-—such as the clearance of land in a high- density area in order to provide 120 parking spaces. Instead, the NAACP became involved only when the issue of integration became salient. In a pattern of response repeated in the busing controversy, leaders and organiza- tions engaged in personal or organizational activity only in response to cues defined by their main goals, and not to others. Thus, the chance for a "neighborhood school" and a "community facility" attracted the interest and involve— ment of the moderate separatists (associated with the school board and Model Cities) and persons "not hung up on integra- tion."* The NAACP was never involved in the planning of the projects and only the belatedly perceived threat to the principle of integration mobilized the organization. That this "threat" was only belatedly perceived reflects the low level of ideological sophistication for many of the local leaders. The Model Cities workers seemed genuinely surprised that the NAACP would object that the new facilities would be segregated-—though they had themselves suggested a site in the black core area. The NAACP, too, was very late in recognizing and then expressing "concern" about projects which had been on the drawing boards for years. Indeed, the organization only moved on the issue when the linkage of the Facility and the new school finally was recognized by the moderates in the organization. A more *Comment made by person involved in planning the Kingsley Facility. 241 sophisticated leadership—-on both sides of this issue-- would have been aware from the beginning of the principles implicit in the project. Finally, the low level of militance in the Central City leadership is shown in the tactics selected by blacks. Protests, demonstrations, flamboyant rhetoric and threats might have marked a similar controversy elsewhere, but in Central City the leadership was not only slow to see the issue in the first place, but also reluctant to use such means. Instead, committee meetings, planning sessions and "behind-the-scenes" activity were used. The only acts aimed at widening the scope of participation and/or further publicizing the issue were the two public statements of the NAACP. Clearly, black leadership goals are more than misty abstractions. As this chapter has shown, these goals have an impact on leadership behavior, helping to structure both activities and perceptions. The next chapter analyzes the tactics and organizations developed to further these goals. 242 FOOTNOTES 1Though these goal-orientations clearly distinguish local leaders, they might easily be reformulated into an altered set of means and ends--with the development of sub- community autonomy through black-controlled organizations and institutions viewed as a prerequisite for eventual, though not immediate, integration into at least economic institutions. However, this formulation is not presented by interviewees, and when suggested to one separatist, the retort was that "integration is your 'solution,' but just more problems to me." 2Leadership interview. 31bid. 4See Lewis Anthony Dexter, Elite and Specialized Interviewipg (Evanston, 1970). 5Leadership interview. 6A. Goodman and William H. Kruskal, "Measures of Association for Cross Classifications. III: Approximate Sampling Theory," Journal of the American Statistical Association (1963), pp. 310-364. Other references are the following: Leo A. Goodman and William H. Kruskal, "Measures of Association for Cross Classifications," Journal of the American Statistical Association (1954), pp. 734-784; Leo A. Goodman and William H. Kruskal, "Measures of Association for Cross Classifications. II: Further Discussion and References," Journal of the Ameri- can Statistical Association (1959), pp. 123-163; William H. Kruskal, "Ordinal Measures of Association," Journal of the American Statistical Association (1958), PP. 814-861; also see William L. Hays, Statistics for Psychologists (New York, 1963), pp. 655-656 and an example of the use of the Goodman-Kruskal and the probability of concordance statis- tics in Edward J. Kaiser, Toward a Model of Residential Locational Behavior (Chapel Hill, North Carolina, 1966), Appendix B, pp. 231-244. 7Hays, op. cit., pp. 603, 606-610. 8Leadership interview. 9Robert L. Crain, et al., The Politics of School Desegregation (New York, 1969). lOIbid., p. 349. 243 llCrain, op. cit., p. 350. 12"I've been able to evaluate my views more"; "Discrimination is extremely real, and I believe the double- standard still exists"; "My View is one of accepting the way things are, and fighting hard to change"; "It has always been a slow, painful process toward improving opportuni- ties. . . ." l3Leadership interview. 14See Robert L. Crain, op. cit., p. 121; Harry Scoble, "Effects of Riots on Negro Leadership," in Riots and Rebellion, ed. by Louis H. Masotti and Don R. Brown (Beverly Hills, 1968); James Q. Wilson, Negro Politics (New York, 1960). 15Informant interviews. l6Gene Hashley, "NAACP Opposing Kingsley Place," State Journal, May 10, 1973, p. B-4. l7Curt Hanes, "State Funds Sought to Build New Recreation Center," State Journal, January 18, 1972, p. B-l. l8Informant interview. 19"NAACP Meeting: West Side School to Be Discussed," State Journal, March 31, 1973, p. A-3. 20Informant interview. 21"NAACP Opposing . . . ," op. cit., p. B-l. 22Leadership interview. 23Ibid. 24"NAACP Opposing . . . ," op. cit., p. B-l. 25Leadership interview. 26Informant interview. 27Leadership interview. 28Gene Hashley, "NAACP Clarifies Kingsley Stance," State Journal, May 18, 1973, p. B—4. 29James Q. Wilson, op. cit., pp. 189-190, 207. 244 30"Out to Help Needy Blacks: NAACP Planning to Break Up Clique," State Journal, January 3, 1972, p. C—4. 31This rumor was widespread and was later repeated by the president of the NAACP. 32Separatist proxy interview. CHAPTER V TACTICS AND ORGANIZATIONS This chapter examines the tactics favored by local leaders and the main black organizations in Central City. Though much of the discussion is descriptive, the "problems" of black identity, "militant-mobility" and role strain are also analyzed in terms of their impact on the city's black leaders. Tactical Differences The differences in preferred leadership tactics are consistent with the militant-moderate distinctions developed in the second chapter. Militants search for tactics which will somehow lead to a comprehensive "solution" of whatever they define as the problem.* Typically, a militant preferred integration because "it would mean tremendous changes in politics and job structures [sic]." Even where there is agreement on a tactic such as court litigation, militants and moderates offer differing rationales: to the moderate, "the courts are there--and eventually you may achieve part of what you want, in a civilized, democratic way"; but the militant's argument for the same tactic reflects both his *See discussion of status goals as analyses, pp, 88-89. 245 246 shorter time-perspective* and his impatience for major changes: You can play politics a long time before getting what one good court decision, when it comes, will give you. . . . When you win you get really basic changes that can't be washed away like in politics.I The moderates repeatedly urge limited solutions to specific problems-—evidently viewing this tactical orienta- tion as not only realistic, but virtuous: You try to get everything you can get and then you compromise. That way we always end up with something. That's what the wise person does. . . . Progress will always be gradual and you've just got to know that. . . . . . . We [in the Urban League] didn't make as much noise as others, but we've been more effective: They [protestors] had no devices to give them staying power-- which is what we've got. . . . Now the struggle goes on and they're gone--while we're pushing steadily all the time. . . . In each interview, leaders were asked to describe the tactics they favored. Table 45 shows the responses to this question.** The table organizes specific responses into larger categories, with key phrases from the responses listed for illustrative purposes. In all, there were twenty *Another specific disagreement between a militant and moderate integrationist further illustrates these dif- ferences. The militant argued that integration of American schools "was already overdue" by l955--because of the Supreme Court's decision in 1954. In contrast, when asked about integration of the local schools a moderate took a rather different position: You know how I would have handled it? One year at a time--first the first grade, then the second and so on . . . in twelve years the schools would have been inte— grated. **The phrases listed beneath the categories of response represent the initial responses to the question. A number Of respondents were then asked to clarify or to discuss their first responses. 247 Table 45.--Tactics favored by local leaders. Number of Responses 15 10 Categories _.__.___v _. .- _ _ -_._- _--. _ _ Phrases Use of Subcamrunity Conventional Individual Violence Organization Activities Activities "Violence "grass-roots" "politics" (4) "hard work" (2) has its organization coalitions (3) "getting an place" (2) "working education (2) (1) through the " getting along system" (1) with peOple"(1) "court lit- " love and igation" (1) God" (1) "planning" (1) - " finding jobs for peOple"(1) 248 separable responses to the question (some persons citing more than one tactic), and two clear patterns emerge: the general preference for the conventional tactics of American politics, and the rather large number of responses citing individual efforts as "tactics" furthering group mobility. The size of this latter category is surprising: in the context of the interviews, it had been assumed that most responses would cite differing forms of collective effort or organizational activities. Instead, 30% of all the responses dealt with individual efforts. The tenor of the remarks in this category (see Table 45) and in the follow-up discussion in the interviews, suggests a two— fold assumption shared by these respondents: one is the assumption that blacks must move out "into the system" and complete--thus, the rejection of separatists as being "afraid of competition"; the values of "competition" and "hard work" are firmly held by local integrationists—-who represent five of the six responses in this category; the twin assump- tion is that blacks as a group will be judged by how well these "competing" individuals perform--thus, the injunctions directed to "getting along," "working hard," and "getting an education." These assumptions form the context out of which leaders can logically state individual characteris- tics as tactics for group mobility. The assumptions also imply the integrationist's View Of black mobility as a matter largely of individual activity and work, not a 249 collective process in which blacks §p_masse gain power and income.* The most obvious pattern in the responses is the preference for the conventional tactics of American politics: - . . We need political activity within the power structure. . . . The NAACP uses the principles of democracy——we petition and use court litigations. . . . We should use the same tactics as for good business management: identify a problem, develop our tactics carefully and set our goal. . . . Change within the system is possible: the main thing is access to institutions. . . . We always use per- suasion, facts and position papers. . . . The election of more blacks or sympathetic Officials is also frequently mentioned, as are coalitions with whites: . . . We have to have the cooperation of those with political and economic expertise and power because pg can't push integration unless others want to push it. I think coalitions are possible: poor whites are as discriminated against as anyone. . . . . . . I think we can work with whites. I was amazed to get as much [white] support as I did [in a Board of Education recall election]. . . . There are a lot of whites in the middle ground and they can be shifted. There's no other choice than working in coalitions-- ultimately it has to be done, because we can't do it alone. . . .4 Moderate separatists also accept coalitions with whites--and, in the recall election, actually formed one. However, they tend to downplay the long-run possibilities of coalitions unless certain conditions are met: "There has to be something in it for everyone"; "It only works if everyone's similar [in socio—economic status]--otherwise there's a clash." The separatists accept coalitions of *See David Danzig, "The Meaning of Negro Strategy," Commentary, (February, 1964). 250 exchange* as pragmatic adjustments to certain situations: integrationists (in Central City) work in coalitions Of principle with "the conscientious elements among whites" and View these efforts as symbols of an integrated future. For most local leaders these tactical preferences are grounded in a remarkable optimism. However, the rationale for the optimism varies somewhat for differing leadership types. For the separatists, optimism seems based upon signs of a growing "black awareness" in the sub— community; thus one separatist says, "Things are going to work themselves out" because of the "growing bond among nitty-gritty people in the [black] community" and others repeat variants of the "getting ourselves together" theme. Integrationists tend to point to the rewards of "working in the system"-—elected officials, new jobs, higher incomes-- as portents of a future which will be still better. What is striking, however, is that these hopes are not based on optimism about the beliefs and acts of white Americans-- when askedzh1the questionnaire whether "the average white man really wants the black to have his rights," pppe of the integrationists agreed. Instead, their Optimism seems rooted in what might be called "system characteristics." . . . there's a great need for reform--but that's the basis of the American political philosophy and so reform is possible. . . . Some people are getting tired, but we won't compromise or back down; we can make it, we've just got to stick to it. . . .5 *See Chapter II, pp. 102-103. 251 Organizations Five organizations are mentioned most frequently by informants and leaders as both important to and directed by local blacks:* The NAACP, the Urban League, the Black Ministerial Alliance, Model Cities and the Malcolm X Insti— tute. Tflmafollowing discussion outlines the typical organi- zational tasks and the resources available to these groups, while also analyzing the constraints on each organization's activities and the relationship of each group to the sub- community. NAAC P The National Association for the Advancement of Colored People is, in many ways, the most important black organization in Central City. At least ten of the sixteen individuals named as leaders have been or are members, and the organization is viewed favorably by most subcommunity informants. A stable leadership coterie, composed mainly of upper-middle-class professionals, has been dominant in the group for the past fifteen years. The main issue-area defined by the organization as its own usually does not require--or elicit—-mass support from the subcommunity: whatever local issue is tied to the principle of integration immediately becomes the NAACP's *Such groups as the Black Panthers, SNCC and CORE never appeared in Central City--which is consistent with both the subcommunity characteristics and the low mili- tance levels already discussed in Chapters III and IV. 252 concern (as with the Kingsley Facility issue). Integration of local schools has been the focus of NAACP efforts for the past ten years because of the institutional positions and aspirations Of important leaders in the organization,* the general feeling of the mainly middle-class membership that "education is the key,"6 the traditional emphasis on school integration by the national organization and, given the trend of court decisions, the increasing vulnerability of the local school system to litigation. Though the great bulk of the cash collected locally is funneled to the national level, until recently the local NAACP has had greater financial resources than the white neighborhood groups it has faced in court.** In addition, the local NAACP is the repository of considerable expertise-- over the past decade the organization skillfully prodded the school board into a verbal commitment to school integration, helped develop a local desegregation plan, defeated neigh- borhood groups in the state and federal courts and thrust some of its most active members into policy roles in the educational system. However, the group's resources of money and skill rest upon a very narrow base. The separatists who scorn the organization as dependent on "white money" are not in *The organization's leaders have included a local school board member, the Board's attorney, a State Super- intendent of Education and several local school adminis- trators. **See Chapter VI on the busing controversy. 253 error on their facts: the NAACP president estimates that 70% of the local branch's contributors are white. In addi- tion, the resource of legal skills is limited by demand and cost. The number of lawyers willing and competent to carry desegregation cases through the courts is limited, and the local branch must compete for their services. Once "hired," these lawyers--many of them whitet-must offer their services gratis or for only token fees (no pun intended). Two black lawyers from Central City have carried much of the branch's legal work for free*-—though one of them also has been the lawyer for the school board. At times, the lack of imme- diately available legal talent has changed NAACP strategy, as discussed in the next chapter. Thus, upon close exami— nation, the organization which Often appears powerful and rich to threatened policy-makers** is, in fact, dependent upon limited funds and free legal services. The relationship of the NAACP to the local sub- community is ambiguous. On the one hand, informants fre- quently characterized the organization as a "protector,"*** while on the other hand, comparatively few were members or *"I spent forty-one days and nights in on that case, and I never got a penny. I've never gotten a penny in all my years of cases! Not one! I even had to pay my own hotel and eating bills. . . !"7 **Speaking of the NAACP, one policy-maker sighed, "I suppose they'll bring in some of those hot—shot la ers again. God, they'll outspend us and out-class us!" ***Sample comments: "No, I've never belonged but they're O.K.--if there's trouble, they're usually right there, and I like that. . . . They protect our rights."9 254 habitual contributors. The current president describes subcommunity support as only "moderate," and complains about "the cOmplacent community." Indeed, a recent mem— bership drive brought few results, and the NAACP continues with about 750 dues-paying members (or about 0.7% of the city's black population). However, when special events are scheduled at the Sunday night meetings or when a rally is sponsored with the churches, attendance is large. To a vocal minority, the organization is "irrele- vant" because Of its concern with the old status goals-- what one informant called "paper integration." The leader- ship is aware of these views, as shown by its announced attempt to promote "communication with the total commu- nity."* The latest effort to shift from its litigation— status goal stance to a concern with actual job placements is the formation of an informal coalition with the local Urban League to increase the number of jobs for blacks in city government.** Though this effort has just begun, one separatist calls it an attempt to "get jobs for themselves"-- a reference to the mainly white-collar positions being sought. Urban League However, job placement remains the main task of the Urban League. Typical of its efforts and its "style" in Central City has been the recent gaining of job placements *See Chapter IV, p. 235. **The target is an appropriate one: see Chapter III, p. 135, Table 10. 255 within the formerly all-white local construction unions; the League is now conducting a Labor Education Advancement Pro- gram (LEAP), to prepare minority workers for apprentice— ship entry tests and formal admission to the construction trades. The promise of job Openings was obtained only after lengthy negotiations with trade union and construction company Officials. Persistence and negotiation are hall- marks Of the local League, as acknowledged by the Executive Director: Careful planning is the key. If you don't do your homework, you get chewed up. . . . That's why we started in 1910, and we're still here. The staff of the Urban League works under two impor- tant constraints on its behavior--Community Chest funding and the nature of their Board of Directors. Chest funds are directed to "responsible" community organizations, and the League is well aware that it cannot promiscuously involve itself in local controversies while receiving these funds. Furthermore, a review of past Boards of Directors shows a consistent pattern: most Boards are composed of "repre- sentative" blacks from such institutions as Model Cities or local labor unions, individuals from the area's university, and prominent persons from the city (the wife of an owner of a real estate company, an individual active in teacher's organizations, etc.); blacks are always outnumbered on the Board. Neither Community Chest funding nor the composition cfi its Board of Directors encourages what is commonly viewed filthe subcommunity as "militance." Instead, the Urban League 256 is most likely to precede its public announcements with long periods of negotiation and "informal contact."* The Urban League took no public position during the busing con- troversy because "it's out of our area and it wouldn't have done any good anyway."10 The staff is explicitly aware of these constraints, but points to the positive aspects of these arrangements-—the steady flow of money into the organ- ization, and what they view as the opportunity to work "hand in glove" with influential whites. What is traded-Off in the deve10pment of these rela- tionships, however, is widespread support in the subcommu- nity: They're not very militant—-they [the Urban League] never get anyone mad. . . . They just sprinkle a few blacks on that Board. . . . That Board more or less decides what they can do--I sat on it until I finally quit. . . . I think they're very far removed from civil rights activity. . . 11 Like the NAACP, the Urban League has become sensi- tive to its standing in the subcommunity. To expand inter- est in its program, the national organization has urged the local League to invite "young people" into its Board of Directors, but the Executive Director believes that "the young people haven't been around long enough to know what they're doing, and some of them, he adds emphatically, "are knuckleheads." This stance is consistent with his view of the most important requirement for effective black leader- ship: "political sophistication." In an organization where *Says one staff member, "I do half my work at lunch, just talking with people and feeling them out." 257 negotiation and the steady accumulation of quiet gains is necessary, "militant youngsters" indeed may tilt the League in a new direction; not to recruit them, however, may further diminish support in the subcommunity. Variations in internal structure also seem to insure that the Urban League will Operate at some "distance" from the subcommunity. The NAACP is organized so that most deci- sions are worked out in the Executive Board and then usually submitted for discussion in a general meeting once a month. Though Executive Board decisions are not Often overturned, they are sometimes subjected to considerable discussion and criticism.* This process allows for potential feedback from at least a segment of the subcommunity. In contrast, in the Urban League the large Board of Directors (currently 33 members) is responsible for setting general policy, but the staff and the Executive Director control the daily work of the organization and the imple- mentation of policy--as well as having great influence in shaping the Board's directives to themselves. The full-time staff appreciates the organizational power accruing to them from this structure--and contrasts it favorably with the NAACP's lack of staff and what one calls "their monthly mass meetings." However, the League's structure of decision *For example, NAACP leaders concede that they have heard discussion in their meetings of dropping their drive for school integration and moving toward community control of neighborhood schools--an indication that some differing viewpoints are brought out in the meetings; also, see the Chapter VI discussion of the suit blocking the recall election. 258 making minimizes the Opportunity for differing segments of the subcommunity to voice their concerns or interests in the organization. Again, though, the Urban League--like the local NAACP—_does not pggd enthusiastic support in the subcommu- nity in order to achieve organizational goals, but they do need steady funding and access to white-controlled institu- tions to obtain minority job placements. A staff member summarizes the League's position: Quite often minority groups just stir up flak. We don't. We've got a method and it works. We're Opening doors for those who want to better them- selves.12 Black Ministerial Alliance In contrast to the NAACP and the Urban League, the Black Ministerial Alliance* is rooted directly in the sub- community or at least a segment Of it. The Alliance has as its first priority, the provision of personal and family counseling,** with a secondary level of concern being "civil rights activity, integration, school busing and that kind of thing."13 The Ministerial Alliance has also helped to *Though all informants referred to the group as the Black Ministerial Alliance or the "B.M.A.," the ministers themselves refer to it as the Central City Ministerial Alli- ance. The difference in title suggests that the members do not.see themselves first as race leaders, but as ministers. **The Alliance lists the areas for counseling in the following order: religious conflicts, pre-marriage counsel- ing, marital problems, pre-divorce conflicts, drug problems, «occupational and job conflicts, delinquency-child and youth, financial difficulties, education and school problems and racial conflicts.l4 259 develop Senior Citizen programs with the Model Cities agency, was active in the recall election, and currently operates a day-care center in a Baptist Church.* Some of the ministers' efforts have failed. As described in Chapter II,** their attempt to lead an Easter boycott of downtown stores had mixed results at best. The ministers also had nine of the fifteen board seats in a Model Cities funded corporation, MEDC (Ministerial Economic Development Corporation), which failed in part because of their business misjudgments. MEDC was terminated after a prolonged battle on the Model Cities' Policy Board-—a con— flict in which the differing views of ministerial competence were rehearsed again.*** Recently, the Ministerial Alliance, "in keeping with today's shift to 'living religion,”16 obtained four acres of farmland, parcels Of which were set aside for use by inner-city families. The ministers pointed out the symbolic import of what might otherwise be viewed as merely utili- tarian: "Man must live by the sweat of his brow [and our] *In addition, the ministers may play a role in get- ting out the black vote. Though the ministers contend that they are non-political and only urge residents to vote in elections, the county's Democratic chairman states that the ministers "are the people to see" in mobilizing the local black vote.15 **pp. 104—105. ***Informant's comment: "I never saw anything like it. That [conflict] just about tore the place up. The hassle took most of the night, and there was blood on the floor when we got finished." 260 punishment is to keep out the weeds and thistles, as it is written."17 Not unexpectedly, the ministers and the B.M.A. draw differing reactions. To their "constituents"--the families attending the fundamentalist churches--the ministers are "good Christian men" and "community-minded." However, Others outside this constituency View them as "always blow- ing their own horns,‘ or as "interested only in money";* to the young separatists the ministers are relics of the past, and such projects as the inner-city farm plots are the object of much hilarity.l8 Since their organization depends upon subcommunity support, the ministers defend themselves against their critics. When, at a money-raising rally sponsored jointly with the NAACP, one of the speakers charged that the occa- sion marked the first time the Alliance had backed a commu- nity project, the organization responded promptly with a letter distributed in the suchmmunity and printed in the local paper: admitting that with MEDC "we sought to assist but stumbled," the ministers attributed the defeat to "poli- tics" and went on to claim that "no organization of leaders within the black community has met as long and as consistently the challenge of human need as this organization of black min- isters and the churches that are led by them."19 Both the language and the fact of the letter are suggestive of certain patterns. As implied, the ministers *Also see labor leader's comment, Chapter II, p.260. 261 do not consider either the NAACP or the Urban League to be organizations from directly "within the black community."* Rather, these organizations are seen as led by and based upon persons from the highest social and economic stratum within the subcommunity, and those who are physically and perhaps psychologically removed from the black core area. In turn, the B.M.A. views itself as an "organization of leaders" which, though lacking formal representation of interests in the subcommunity, is able to speak and act for the subcommunity as a consequence of its leaders' roles as pastors.** These views are not basically inaccurate-- except that the ministers overstate their ability to "rep- resent" the "community." As with the young militants, the ministers can speak for only a segment of the subcommunity, though an important one--the middle-class or "respectable" church-going poor. In fact, the ministers have only the most fleeting contact with the black lower-class (though the president of the B.M.A. lives only two blocks from the core area) and frequently do not even recognize the names of the young militants in Central City.20 In general, the ministers seem naive about what they call "politics" in the city, and most of them come from rural backgrounds and southern seminaries. Nevertheless, in *These views were also confirmed in the informant and leadership interviews. **When the NAACP sought to rally black support during the busing controversy, they turned to the B.M.A. and the churches for assistance in arranging mass meetings and "work— shops"; see Chapter VI. 262 the past decade they have been able to alter their tradi— tional and more limited roles in order to participate in the "civil rights movement." In the View of an agency head who has worked with the B.M.A. for several years, "the ministers used to be very conservative but in the last few years they've become much more vocal and active—-which, for them, is almost a revolutionary change." Still the ministers are hardly exemplars of radical chic: though supporting the goals of a sit-in protest at the high school, the ministers publicly bewailed the destruc- tion of property; the Alliance was also active in distribut- ing anti-abortion petitions;* and one minister even referred to Martin Luther King's foe, J. Edgar Hoover, as "the great- est detective who ever lived."21 Though the president of the B.M.A. concedes that "there is somewhat of a housing problem" for blacks in Central City, his emphasis on drugs and crime as the main problems in the subcommunity probably reflects the main concerns Of his constituents. The ministers of the Alliance can be classified as moderate integrationists--favoring integration because, in the words of one minister, "We are all God's children," while giving over most of their efforts to specific pro- grams for the immediate benefit of the subcommunity: the day-care center, Senior Citizen programs, etc. Unlike the *It is unclear whether opposition to "abortion reform" actually would be one of the indices of a generally conservative position. What is reported here is the inter- pretation of this ministerial activity by informants. 263 NAACP and the Urban League, the Black Ministerial Alliance cannot carry on its programs without the support Of their constituency, as represented in the church congregations. The fact of the defensive letter and the recent appointment of a "public relations director" for the organization illus- trates the minister's need to maintain the confidence of their followings in the subcommunity. They do not represent a monolithic "community" but the ministers do have--and must maintain--a base of followers and financial support in an important part Of the local subcommunity. Model Cities The Model Cities Agency is not a black organization as such. Its staff is quick to point out that the Model Cities neighborhoods include fewer Negroes than in compar- able programs in other cities, and that the agency has had only one program aimed exclusively at blacks-—the ill-fated MEDC. However, the Model Cities program claims extensive links to the local subcommunity,* and the agency's Director is black,** as well as most of its "task forces" and its Policy board. The black city councilman states flatly that “blacks control Model Cities."22 *See Chapter IV, pp.23l-232. **p. 117. 264 The predictable local conflict* occurs between Model Cities and the rather inept Mayor, with the agency desiring as much autonomy as possible, and the Mayor seek- ing control of the money and jobs represented by the program. The Mayor's strategy has been to portray the agency as rife with misappropriated funds, as well as being inefficient and ineffective, but as a consequence of his universal unpopularity with local blacks,** the Mayor's repeated attacks aid the agency's work in the subcommunity. Actually though, Model Cities is a much-disputed topic among blacks, too: though some believe the agency's programs have helped the young23 and others cite specific improvements in the Model Cities neighborhoods, the black critics view the agency as a "rip-Off" ("four-fifths of the money spent aids about one-fifth of the people involved"), and even concede that "the Mayor may be right."24 The point of greatest tension between the agency and individuals in the subcommunity is the competition for jobs in the Model Cities program. For both the subcommu- nity and some of the organizers of the local program the initial assumption was that residents of the areas selected as Model Cities' neighborhoods would fill available adminis- trative positions, the somewhat hazy rationale being that these persons would be most aware of the problems in the *See Daniel P. Moynihan, Maximum Feasible Mis- understanding (New York, 1969). **See Chapter III, pp. 181-182. (I) (I) (I) f) (7) "r1 l‘). (1‘ 265 subcommunity. Instead, appointments have been based on a mix of credentials, location and political criteria. Thus, some of the staff have been hired because of past experi- ence in similar programs, other appointments have been based on the claim to residence in and knowledge of the subcommunity* and many jobs have been allotted after pol- itical clearance from the black councilman.25 This mix of hiring criteria satisfies few of the job-hungry in the core area, and complaints that those hired "don't know the community" are frequent. These hiring practices, however, are an organizational response to the conflicting pressures on the agency. Thus, some jobs must be allocated to satisfy the city councilman who is the chief defender of the agency in city politics; other posi- tions are used to help build and maintain support in the subcommunity; finally, an agency also faced with complex problems of planning and organization must employ the "cre- dentialed," and so staff with expertise--and degrees--are also hired. Considering all of the conflicting needs of and pressures upon the organization, one staff member com- mented "this program is designed to fail."**26 Evaluation of the local Model Cities agency is beyond the scope of this research, but two patterns relevant *For an integrationist's scornful view of this criterion, see p. 232. **See also Peter Marris and Martin Rein, Dilemmas of Social Reform (Chicago, 1967), pp. 261-267. 266 to local black leadership should be noted: the relationship of the agency to the subcommunity, and the threat it poses to the dominant black leaders in Central City. Though claims of extensive subcommunity support are made, the Model Cities agency is only superficially a "black-run organi- zation." The agency depends upon federal funding, not upon any direct financial support from the subcommunity; indeed, with the advent of general revenue-sharing, the agency's budget has been slashed and new hiring has ceased. The agency's claim of widespread involvement by the subcommu- nity is also dubious; for example, neighborhood elections for positions on Model Cities' task forces often bring turn— outs as low as 2-3% of eligible residents. Those persons elected then complain of manipulation by the full-time staff of the agency27--hardly a startling result for part-time participants lacking expertise applicable in the policy areas represented by the task forces. Thus, not only is the agency entirely funded by a dwindling supply Of "white money,’ but the degree of subcommunity participation and power in the agency is also minimal. However, the agency is seen as offering an inde- pendent base Of support (a following, plus organizational and financial resources) for rival leaders. Perhaps sensing this possibility, the black councilman has moved in on the agency, asserting his influence wherever possible. Other leaders speak darkly of wild spending and the support of young militants for the program. In a city where black 267 leadership tends to arise out of either association with "powerful" organizations (NAACP, Urban League) or prominent roles in white-controlled institutions (the City Council, the Board of Education), the Model Cities program intro— duces a possible new base for black leadership--and one entailing direct organizational work in the subcommunity.* With the agency's programmatic emphasis upon immediate improvements in the subcommunity, the new black leadership associated with Model Cities also has been less likely to share the integrationist perspective.** The irony of the integrationist's fears about Model Cities leadership is that subcommunity participation in the agency is limited: core area residents continue to be dependent upon staff expertise and, with the slowdown of funding, their ultimate dependence on federal budgets is also clear. Malcolm X Institute The Malcolm X Institute intends to be independent of white support--even though some of its initial funding came from the Model Cities agency. Now supported by the *This type of work has been the basis for the leadership roles of John Washington and Hattie Hosler; see p. 102. In a recent election in the city's fourth ward, a black candidate also came from a staff position with the local agency. **Of the individuals listed as leaders, five have had major roles in the Model Cities agency--either sitting on boards or working as full-time staff. One of the five is categorized as a militant separatist and the remainder as moderate separatists (see discussion in Chapter II). Model Cities took no position during the busing controversy, and few of the agency activists seemed interested in the issue. 268 Black Liberation Front Internationale (which, despite its name, is largely confined to the near-by university), the institute sees itself as an educational institution with a general set of goals: "to teach what should have been taught, to learn what should have been learned, to do what should be done."28 Hence, the Institute seeks to teach both a "proper" historical perspective and African "life- styles"; the intended result of this re—education away from white values is new leadership for the subcommunity: says Kensha Muhammed, "the first objective of a student . . . must be to address the needs of peoples of African descent."29 The Institute schedules classes and meetings in its rented house inifiuacore area,* but its appeal has been lim- ited mainly to young blacks. Though many middle-class black leaders see them as "trouble-makers" or "revolution- aries,‘ in fact the Institute seems to have only a limited set of activities in the subcommunity, aside from its "edu- cational" functions. For example, when asked the Institute's main activity in the recent past, members cite their inves- tigation of the police slaying of a young black.30 The investigation concluded that the incident was "murder"—- but nothing else happened. The incident is typical: despite rhetoric to the contrary, the Malcolm X Institute has carried on only limited *Asked about the Institute, one integrationist could only discuss the house: "It's so dirty and messy. I know who was born in that house and it's a shame to see it spoiled. I wish they'd clean it up." 269 activities in the subcommunity, and has been able to organ- ize only a limited following. One of the main handicaps is that only intangible incentives are available to the organization. Black youths attracted to the group must be held by the abstract appeals of Pan-African ideology, and the ésprit of like-minded cohorts--but no jobs, cash or contracts are available through the organization.* Lacking the flow of tangible resources seemingly necessary to sus- tain daily organizational activity, the Institute can only occasionally become active--as it did during riots and the protest at a local high school. Summary: Incentives and Issue-Areas Figure 7 summarizes the discussion of black organi- zations in Central City. As the table indicates, the Black Ministerial Alliance and Model Cities are most directly and consistently active in the subcommunity, while the NAACP and the Urban League have a more distant relationship to the subcommunity pgp gg-—much of their support being drawn from the dispersed middle-class and from whites, and most of *As originally planned, the Institute would have been only one part of an inner—city educational institution for black youth; the other part was to be a training center for aspiring journalists--while the Institute would deal with ideological education. After prolonged controversy, Model Cities closed down the training center, and it even- tually collapsed as a private enterprise. Since then, the Institute has been kept Open with help from campus groups, but now has no tangible incentives to offer—~as it might have with the training center.31 270 .00H00fl0000H06 Hgoflu0mflc0mouo mo gmllfi 0.33m H8560 >000 ems . 0003009530: 0005 05s 00% 008%0 0002 0.000303 .0: 000.23 méemzoo 5.50% 0.0958 .05 00000..”00H AGE/HUGH . 0M8. H009: . 0080.3 00H0|0HOO 505:0 x003 x03 0 0.333 1000.5 mo 000m 000313002 @800 003003 ca 0033000 01.38 8.250. 000.5000“ 1320.00 0003 0 0300030000 39% OH. .0533 I0NHC0@.HO\._..00H 1020 . 053280 @3023. no 5000 . 0.0.493 2032 20 -80 0o x03 -038 08 x03 0o 300360 000960 .0080 Mo x03 002050.028 22: 000x003 . 309550 0H£mc0usH 033:2. 033009 0009i 0800 03.."9005 000.300 8; 3030300900 0H£mc005 2300005 38.6009 0Hflmc09 0Hnflmc0ucH 300508 on: man; 3236890 Ezaeaomom CH 0.3000 muficsgbonsm mu§0 OB >30:300000 5 0502 5 03000 000003 00000.3 ammonefimm 00080330005 003 000300.800 00020H00Hm00fi 000H00H0m00 000203005005 00003.? mHmmmmofiH “EN; 1.: 0000002 00.000002 00000002 B0 000.0002 .Hzmazoo A . 30 0000£HOQSE0G 00:0:H0> 65.000500 03.30 Eng [.30 00H Hog . .0050 0.00 .0002 MOM §H9§H§O . 000000moum 100v 000C600 080ng m0 08080003 003008005” mo 2 ZH§ G03 0200a .00 03.3.6.3 000053900 boo Hoonom 00.39500 effing—Boo 003006009.” mo 00H0H>300 10.5 0003.89 I90 020 B 0000:0003 00.30030 05 00% 0030a 1:30: 0.55 003300 e336 now 1302: 00000 "5me 000032 0030.05 600 0 000:0 0:003 00.22 x 583.2 a . o 2:: 082 :35 spasm ‘61” 271 their key activities occurring "out of sight" in court- rooms and business offices.* These groups also differ in terms of the incentives characteristically used by each organization both to main- tain_the organization (e.g., to sustain leadership involve- ment in and the daily tasks of the organization), and to attract a following (members, program participants or cli- ents). Sometimes the types of incentives used differ: for example, while the Urban League maintains its leadership activities and daily operations mainly through tangible, material incentives (a large paid staff), it attracts its general following through the intangible appeal of a program which draws contributors and Board members, though this appeal is combined with the material incentives of the organ- ization's job placements for individuals in the subcommunity. Also, the B.M.A. combines an intangible appeal to black min- isters who feel they should be active leaders in the subcom- munity (several ministers mentioned Martin Luther King as their role model) with the material benefits of day-care centers, free farm plots and counseling services, all of which help to maintain a following for this "organization of leaders." In contrast, in an organization such as Model Cities, both the leadership activities of its staff and its *Some activities also take place in bars. One of the Urban League staff claimed his best negotiating occurred over drinks: "After a few drinks, the truth comes out, and then we can deal."32 The staff member holds a Master's degree in Labor and Industrial Relations. 272 support in the subcommunity hinge on the continued flow of material benefits from the federal government. Only two organizations depend solely on intangible incentives: the NAACP and the Malcolm X Institute. Neither can promise its leaders any rewards other than possible social prominence or personal satisfaction; both depend upon free services to continue their activities--whether legal or educational in nature; and both attract a following through intangible appeals--to either "integrationists" or "Pan-Africanists." Indeed, with both organizations mainly dependent on intangible incentives* and with supporters attracted in large part by the "rightness" of their respec- tive "causes,' there is in both a tendency to seek out con— flicts which sustain the organization. Notably, interest and participation in the Malcolm X Institute rose after its leadership was involved in a demonstration and a small riot, and attendance at the NAACP's meetings increased during the busing controversy.** Not surprisingly, the NAACP and the Malcolm X Institute are the main organizational carriers of the competing status goals of integration and subcommunity *It should be clear that the NAACP has much more money than the Institute, though most of it is sent to the national organization and the remainder is not sufficient for the legal activities of the organization--hence, the need to locate "committed" lawyers who will render free services. **Conflict situations may also offer ways to test out re-defined goals. The next chapter analyzes the "re- definition" of integration as cause and complication of the busing controversy. 273 autonomy--and it is the intangible appeal of these goals which maintains organizational followingg. Figure 7 also illustrates the issue-areas handled by these organizations and their leaders. The categories are based upon observation of organizations and issues over a two—year period. As described earlier, the NAACP takes as its issue any case involving threats to or the possi- bility of achieving the principle of racial integration. Therefore, as in the instance of the Kingsley Facility, the organization usually initiates actions only when the inte- gration "cues" in a given situation become clear, and such activities take priority over other possible concerns--such as the original planning of the subcommunity Facility.* The Urban League is concerned with issues related to job placements, though the issues are only publicized when the usual tactics of the organization fail. For example, the issue of City Hall positions for "minorities" was made public through an exchange of letters and press statements only after it was apparent that the Mayor had no intention of negotiating the issue. Model Cities' leaders see as their main issues the highly specific concerns of subcommunity residents with city services and facilities. The agency's Policy Board fre- quently becomes a sounding board for complaints from the subcommunity, and programs have been developed to improve such services as garbage collection and transportation--as *See Chapter IV, pp. 239-240. 274 well as the planning of the Kingsley Facility. The Min- isterial Alliance was responsible for bringing pressure on the local police to improve their performance in the sub- community through increased patrols and faster response rates.* The ministers have also led efforts aimed at neighborhood preservation, in one instance even leading a group of "hard-working citizens" to protest that the prop- erty assessments on their homes should be raised to reflect their increased value!** In contrast, the Malcolm X Insti- tutelunsfocused on what is seen as illegitimate police activity by investigating a slaying and encouraging "sur- veillance" of police activities. These issue-areas exhibit stability over time. Organizations and leaders do not often "cross-over" from one issue-area to another even if they have very strong opinions about controversies outside their usual area of concern. For example, the leadership in both the Malcolm X Institute and the Urban League had definite views in the Central City busing controversy, but never became actively involved on either side of the issue. This issue-area stability seems to be maintained by a number of factors. In some instances, the main goals of an organization give it a natural interest in some issues *See Chapter III, pp. 169-170. **These residences are located in an area where the city may have to purchase homes through condemnation proce- dures in the future. In the past, prices paid have reflected the assessed value of the pr0perty. 275 as opposed to others--the NAACP's interest in school inte- gration, for example. These interests are backed by tradi- tion (in Central City, the NAACP has always been preoccu- pied with the issue of integration, the Urban League with job placements, the ministers with the provision of various services in the subcommunity) and the expertise which grows out of experience. In Central City, for instance, only the NAACP has the resources to prepare and pursue a federal desegregation case.* For a leadership concerned with "doing the homework," the lack of organizational expertise can be a major barrier to initiating activities on a new set of issues. Furthermore, taking on new issues can threaten the more usual activities of an organization--an Urban League engaged in a constant round of negotiations with various local institutions can ill-afford aggressive support of busing plans in the midst of a city-wide controversy. Sev- eral leaders seemed to sense that their groups had only limited capital which was best invested in the immediate tasks of the organization: Why should we get involved [in the busing issue]? What good would it do anyway? I think they're [NAACP] going to lose no matter what, and we'd just hurt our- selves. . . .35 Organizations are also subject to internal con- straints as to their "proper" functions: thus, the Urban League's Board of Directors sees the organization's *The NAACP lawyer: "They [desegregation cases] take a hell of a lot of work, a lot of time and you've got to know what you're doing. I don't think many lawyers can do it--and we get the few who can."34 276 traditional concerns as proper, and the Model Cities agency could not become involved in the busing issue "because we're a federally funded agency."36 Finally, not to be ignored is the sheer weight of organizational habit--which can also be viewed as the culmi- nation of the above factors. For groups such as the NAACP, the Urban League and the Model Cities agency, the process of "institutionalization" is well-advanced, and new activi- ties at this point would be unwelcome.* For "looser" groups such as the B.M.A. and the Malcolm X Institute, organizational habit is furthered by other variables: for the B.M.A., the expectations of their parishioners tend to limit the group's activities to the properly "non-political," while the Institute's lack of organizational resources lim- its its activities to continuing discussions of Pan-African "lifestyles." When asked why his organization did not become involved in the local busing controversy, one leader's com— ment perhaps summarized the force of organizational habit: "I don't know. I guess we just never thought of it."37 Black Identity: Tactic and Symbol The emphasis of the militant separatists on black identity as a means to their organizational ends should be briefly noted. Two statements can be made about the use of black identity in Central City: it is much more salient to *See Chapter I, pp. 66-67, for discussion of Selz- nick's distinction between organizations and institutions and an analysis of the distinction as it applies to the recent history of the Civil Rights movement. 277 the young separatists than to any of the integrationists, and it has more symbolic than practical import for the local leadership. To the young blacks influenced by black nationalism, "identity" is seen as a basic means to their ends: "We won't be free until we know who we are."38 The Pan— Africanism advanced by Muhammed and the Malcolm X Institute argues that "people of African descent" build unity through shared racial identity; "Mother Africa," though, is not only a focus for identity and sentiment (as with a white ethnic group), but also a vaguely "revolutionary force" for Ameri- can blacks. An international black—white (or "third world" vs. "capitalist") struggle is anticipated by some--with this conflict culminating in black liberation.39 Thus, the empha- sis upon black identity is seen as a necessary prelude to revolutionary struggle--and immersion in the white world is viewed as inevitably corrupting. We call them [blacks in the white world] "white fools." They don't know who they are or why. . . . They're just bought men.*40 To the separatists, it seems essential that one's bhxm:identity be symbolized in readily observable fashion-- hence, language, hair styles and dress take on inordinate importance as outward signs of an inner "blackness." During the period of interviews, certain symbolic fashions were obvious (Afros seemed less important as symbols than in the recent past, but broad-brimmed hats were "in"), but language *This attitude no doubt reinforces the role strain felt by separatists; see discussion, pp. 287-291. 278 was the main carrier of symbolic blackness*--or of the new middle-class status. "Down-home" inflections, scornful references to whites and "bourgie" [bourgeoisie] blacks, and a skillful mix of "street language" and obscenity char— acterized the discussions with separatists to whom black identity was a central concern.41 To many of the integra- tionists, however, such language is repugnant. For example, one of the most flamboyant of local leaders,** a separatist able to combine in one sentence references to "cognitive skills," "group dynamics" and "fucked-up-mother-fuckers," was condemned as often by the middle-class integrationists for his language as for his positions on issues--the NAACP president criticizing him most succinctly: . . . Whites react to his words, but we're used to that kind of language and grow up with it--so he doesn't impress us at all. We have a saying: "I may be a fool, but I'm not a damn fool!" I always think of that when I think of him, because he just wants to impress people that he's black. . . . That man is vulgar in speech, dress and attitude. . . .42 To the integrationists, then, cultural politics is unappealing and questions of black identity are peripheral.*** *For further evidence of the sensitivity to "style" and language, see the note on p. 288 concerning the devel- opment of two vocabularies. **Without being asked, seven of the eleven integra- tionists explicitly condemned this leader's language. When testifying in a federal judge's chambers recently, this leader's rhetoric was so colorful that the judge asked him to restrain his usual descriptive flair. ***One integrationist tells with bemusement how her daughter was "radicalized" at Howard University. Upon returning home, the daughter announced her dislike for "white money," so her parents told her they could no longer pay for 279 Although their homes may have Josh White song sheets on the piano and small African sculptures in the hallway, the inte- grationists-—consistent with their "getting ourselves in" orientation*--view identity as rooted in personal strength or individual competence, not a racial subculture. . . . our identity can't be lost--how could we lose it? If you're a strong black person, you're always going to be [that type of person]. . . . . . . one's identity is a personal thing. I can't think of any ethnic group that's lost identity-- Irish, Italians and so forth. . . . There's no such thing as acting black--our aspirations are the same [as whites], and we're in the same competitive sys- tem. I think we need economic identities. "Militant-Mobility" and Role Strain Leadership tactics and the development of black organizations in the subcommunity are shaped by "militant— mobility" and an emerging pattern of role strain. Role strain is reflected in what leaders feel they can and cannot do, while mobility changes the basis for leadership roles. As noted in Chapter III, the absence of a strong and consistently active militant organization arising directly out of the core area can be partially accounted for her education since their jobs as secretary and bartender only brought them such money. The parents now report that the daughter was "just going through a phase as a national- ist or something." One lady expressed an attitude toward "Mother Africa" which the separatists would regard with most horror: I'm not interested in going to Africa--I haven't been all over the United States yet. But I might go someday because it's hot there and that would be good for my asthma.43 *See Chapter IV, p. 198. 280 by the characteristics of the subcommunity itself:* institutional underdevelopment, population dispersion and rapid turnover, lack of subcommunity autonomy, etc. There- fore, the opportunity structure for would-be leaders points away from the unpromising core area. The remaining oppor- tunities are in nationally based organizations or institu- tions such as the NAACP, Urban League or even Model Cities agency--and, increasingly, in private or governmental posi- tions. It is the pattern of informal co—optation** into these positions which, in addition to the unpromising char- acteristics of the core area, pulls young separatist leaders away from what might seem their natural organizational "home" in the subcommunity. Under the pressures of the Civil Rights movement oftflma 1960's, both state and private agencies created an array of new positions which were to be filled mainly by blacks***-- directors of Human Relations Commission, Equal Opportunity Officers, minority consultants, etc. These new positions required individuals concerned with minority groups,**** who could develop programs aimed at aiding blacks or, at times, act as an in-house "enforcer," pushing a government *See Chapter III, pp. 182-192. **See footnote 62, p. 196. ***This was an unstated assumption,of course, but the large number of blacks holding these positions is hardly accounted for by chance. ****When these positions were initially created, the term "minorities" operationally translated into "blacks," but now has grown to encompass Chicanos and women. 281 agency or business to meet its own rhetorical commitments to equal rights and increased employment opportunities. As viewed from inside the relevant institutions, these new positions required the recruitment of blacks both articulate enough to serve as public spokesmen for the institution and yet "representative" enough to be able to deal with the local black subcommunity. Thus, when persons in Central City acquired the skills and the following to claim that they could speak for the subcommunity, or a part of it, they then became potentially valuable to other organ- izations or institutions trying to recruit "representative" black spokesmen for the newly created positions. These new recruitment criteria were especially important to Central City blacks, who lived in a state capitol where several such positions opened up in state government. Since "real" black spokesmen might not come from such traditional and middle-class organizations as the NAACP or the Urban League, recruitment for the new positions tended to focus on the small group of local activists who worked directly in and sought support from the core area. Hence, over the past six years, almost all leaders who have worked in the core area have been recruited by government or private agencies.45 Hattie Hosler, wife of a Baptist min- ister and active for years in the core area, was selected as head of the Senior Citizens program by Model Cities; Kensha Muhammed, from the Malcolm X Institute, became a "consultant" for Productive Systems, Inc., an organization 282 working on job training for blacks; Carl Kenton, a man regarded as the most "radical" of local blacks in the mid- l960's,was given an executive position in state government; J. C. Wilson, a moderate separatist active in the core area, was selected as the "inner-city co-ordinator" for the county's Mental Health Department; finally, John Washington-- perhaps the most articulate separatist in Central City--was named as Equal Opportunity Officer for the State Housing Authority.* There is, of course, considerable irony in enter- ing the "establishment" (or being seen as doing so) by first organizing a base of support in the black core area. How- ever, the pattern is also the classic one of institutions co-opting potentially "threatening" leadership. By hiring "real" leaders**:flnmnthe subcommunity itself, the institu- tions of state,]xxxfl.and county government could symbolize both their legitimacy and their earnestness in seeking "equal opportunities." The danger for blacks, however, was that these newly hired individuals might become power- less tokens.** What is clear, though, is the impact of this *These occupations range in income approximately from $8,500-$18,000. **If the implication of this research were accepted-- that the subcommunity is not monolithic and leaders usually can represent only a segment of it--this recruitment pattern might have to be re-evaluated by these institutions. ***The recruitment pattern represents a curious revision of Lewin's "leadership from the periphery [p. 50]." The last chapter considers co-optation and leadership effectiveness. 283 pattern of institutional recruitment upon the type of black leadership developed in Central City: leaders seeking to organize support directly in the core area tend to be detached from that base of support byiinstitutional recruit- mentgpatterns. The Case of John Washington The career of John Washington typifies this process of recruitment into new roles. Coming from a poor family in Detroit, Washington attended the local university and grad- ually acquired ties to the subcommunity through his marriage and work. After graduation, he obtained a position on the city newspaper, but then quickly moved on to a staff role with the new Model Cities agency. Though Washington had been active for years, it was with Model Cities that he acquired his notoriety among some local whites. Freed to work in the core area by the relative lack of structure in the early phases of the agency,* Washington was well-known as the organizer of a "Freedom Academy," and for partici- pating in and being arrested during a sit-in demonstration. Washington quickly became recognized as the main spokesman for young blacks in the core area. His ties to "militants" and his activities in the city finally incurred the wrath of the Mayor, and WashingtOn was forced to resign *Comments a leader from the Urban League: "He was always out shooting the bull. He could do it though, because he didn't have reports, programs, constituents or boards."46 With his upward-mobility, Washington has now acquired several of these possible constraints. 284 from the agency. It was at this point that Washington's upward-mobility was supported by his leadership role and subcommunity following. Far from being hounded out of town by the Mayor's charges and the attendant publicity, Washing- ton was quickly hired by a firm performing consulting and program evaluation services--for the Model Cities agency. From that position he was then recruited for his current role as Equal Opportunity Officer for the State Housing Authority. Hence, in one decade Washington had advanced from his background in a large and poor family in Detroit to an important position in the state's Housing Authority-- his rise being furthered not only by his intelligence and hard work but also by his leadership in the core area. The impact of this ascent upon his leadership role is dramatic. Washington is no longer freed from "reports, programs, constituents." Currently most of his time is taken up by his official chores--and by his new after-hours activity on the Authority's softball and basketball teams. Recognizing the inevitable changes, Washington now speaks in the past tense of "the time when I got my reputation as a leader."47 The development of Washington's career typifies what has happened to many of the bright and aggressive "militants" of the past decade: in becoming upwardly mobile they have, in an important sense, left the subcommunity. Most, though not all of these individuals remain as black leaders in Central City, but the basis for that leadership 285 alters. Washington's role used to be based upon his organi- zational work in the core area, but his leadership is now based upon memories of his past activities and his current position with the powerful Housing Authority, in which he can sometimes speak for the interests of local blacks.48 Thus, the shape of the leadership role assumed by the co- opted" and upwardly mobile separatists and core-area organ- izers eventually comes to resemble that of the integra- tionists: leadership is based upon roles in or access to powerful organizations or institutions rather than the mobilization of direct support in the subcommunity itself. The integrationists are well-aware of the effects of occupational mobility on subcommunity-based leadership, some of them even pointing out the similarities between the leadership roles and career lines of the main community- organizer of the mid-1960's, and the career of John Washing- ton in the late 60's. Having been accused of "bourgie" status themselves, many of the middle-aged integrationists react with candid glee to the co-opting of John Washington. He's been quiet lately and we don't hear as much from him as we used to. Hell, I saw him in the Eagle res- taurant the other day, having a few martinis. [laughter] Why I guess he's changed now. . . . . . . these guys [separatists] are always mouthing off until they get a good job. They they become solid [citizens], real solid. I think John's gettin' more solid all the time [laughter]. . . . These kids do a pretty good job of ripping off the system they're always attacking. . . . I'll tell you why Washington has changed: because it all depends on who's paying you, that's why!49 286 This pattern of militant—mobility further expands the explanation of the lack of subcommunity-based militant organizations and leaders. The traditional difficulties of organization in relatively poor and resourceless subcommu- nities certainly are relevant in Central City, as are the specific characteristics of the black subcommunity analyzed in Chapter III. Also relevant, however, are the career lines and patterns of co-optation discussed here: the abil- ity to organize a following in the local subcommunity makes one a candidate for well-paying positions in institutions where such talents either establish one's "legitimacy" as a ’ black spokesman or are viewed as relevant to institutional purposes; this pattern of militant-mobility does not neces- sarily terminate leadership roles, but does change their basis--and makes it difficult to sustain "grass-roots" organization and subcommunity-based leadership over time. Jobs and Leadership This process of militant-mobility can be parodied as merely the placing of hats over Afros, ties over dash- ikis; however, the resulting role strain is an important problem for individuals wishing both to prosper and to lead. Though most of the leaders seemed at least occasionally to eXperience role strain,50 the proposition can be made that upwardly mobile separatist leaders experience the most acute role strain as a consequence of both their views and their "exposed" institutional positions. 287 The tension between the goals and means generally emphasized by separatists and their occupational roles is greater than for the integrationists. The latter seek as a central goal the entrance of blacks into the larger society, and emphasize tactics aimed at gaining access to policy—makers in key institutions; these goals and tactics are consonant with those occupational roles which entail "working in the system"-—indeed, work roles in "white" institutions can be viewed as harbingers of an integrated future. However, for the separatists whose goals are the development of "community power" or "control" (here cate- gorized as goals of subcommunity autonomy), and who empha- size both the growth of black-controlled institutions and the mobilization of mass support in the subcommunity as tactics, the tensions are much greater: occupying posi- tions in white-controlled institutions can be viewed as contrary to the goals and tactics favored. Differing concepts of leadership are also associated with the integrationist and separatist positions on goals and tactics. The integrationists generally concede the utility of a number of differing leadership functions: Some people speak out, some raise money and others just help out where they can. . . . We can each do different things well. That's our strength. . . .51 In contrast, the separatists, consistent with the tactics they approve, favor a clear—cut leadership role: the organizer. 288 When you say leader, you're saying someone who formu- lates positions, who articulates positions . . . some- one who thinks for himself . . . and then persuades people to follow him and organizes them in some way. That's a leader.52 This ideal of the leader can be most closely matched when leaders are freed of the constraints of white organi- zations. Said one separatist leader in discussing her all- black organization: You talk about leadership, but this is a real organi- zation, the biggest one you'll see with blacks. The others all have 10% blacks, and all the rest whites. Here, it's all black. We're operated by blacks, and organized under a real black leader--me! . . . You couldn't run this program and I can and I'll tell you why--because I've got gifts and I'm black!53 Given the tensions between the favored set of goals and tactics, the favored leadership type and their present occupational roles,* separatist leaders tend to think of their days of active leadership in the past tense (as in the case of John Washington) or to offer defensive rationales for their current positions: . . they may call me an Oreo, but I'm the same person I've always been, nothing's changed. . . . To a degree you have to compromise, but it doesn't matter whether *Some of the leaders also develop two vocabularies as a method for handling their disparate roles and audiences. For example, one leader used psychological jargon during his interview and then skillfully switched to "jive" for his work in the core area. In another interview, a middle-class black who, through his work, must maintain daily contacts with the subcommunity, offered an amusing example of the two vocabularies. Interrupted in the middle of a cogent analy- sis of local leaders by a young man seeking a favor, he immediately altered his language: "Hiya brother, what's happenin'," being followed by a short but (to the inter- viewer) recondite discussion. As the young man left, the leader turned to the interviewer and whispered, "Now that's a militant."54 ' 289 you work in the plant or earn $38,000, when the man pulls your coat, are you gonna respond? Sure you will--99% of the world does,--does what it has to. . . . My family's got to eat too.55 The integrationists, though, often see their occupa- tions as enhancing their leadership roles by giving them access to policy—makers and the "clout" accompanying promi- nent positions; these sentiments were summarized by one leader referring to his position with the state government: "This way I can get something done--I don't page to stand around outside hollering."56 Certain patterns such as the absence of businessmen and the occupational dependence on state and federal funding are apparent in the listing of institutional positions in Figure 8. Of main interest, however, is the relationship between occupation and the probability of a leader's experi— encing role strain. The table indicates whether the leader— ship types occupying differing positions must, by virtue of their occupations, engage in frequent contact with per- sons from the black subcommunity. A mixed pattern is evident for the large group of moderate integrationists, some having frequent contact and some not. However, none of the militant integrationists have jobs with predominantly black clienteles. One of the militant integrationists is a housewife and former member of the Board of Education, one an administrator dealing mainly with other administrators, and one a lawyer with few 290 .0009 0000000000 00 .000000000 0000000000003I.m 000000 .0300>00000 0000000000 0000000 000 .0000600000 >0 00000050 003 00000800000 0009*« .0000000 00x0EIIAHV .000000 0003 000008 0000000 00000 000 0000 nonllfilv .000000 0003 000000 0000000 000000 nofllnfi+v0 lav 000000050 0000000 00000 .0000000 >000 0+0 00000002 00V 000000 0000: .00000000 .00xm 0-0 mmfipflo 00002 .00000000 + 0000008000 10000000 00000 A V 000000000 IIIIIIIIIIIIIII 00800 .00000000 0+0 5000000 IIIIIIIIIIIIIIII 00000000 000000 Any 0>000000000 «000000m1000 .00000000 Im0m 00000 000000 0000 0H0-------qmmmm -H---Mmmmm--wwm- 000000 000002 muwumwuuunwunuww Any 000300000 .00000000000 0:0.0000 0030000 nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn 0000100000 0000m .0000000m AIV 000300 0+0 ..mEmum00 -u------------- Mum ........ mmmmm anmmmmwmmm-wmmm 0>0000000m 0+0 0000 00 0.000 .0002 I>O0QEm 0000» .0000000000 I0000m 00000 000 0.000 .00xm .00000000 00000 0000000000 0000000000 00000000000000 00000000000000 mmNH 00000002 00000002 00000002 00000002 291 black clients.* In all the leadership interviews, the mil- itant integrationists gave the fewest signs of role strain. One can tentatively hypothesize that, for the militant integrationists, the non-problematic nature of the relation- ship between their leadership and occupational roles arises not only from a shared ideological stance which reguires working with whites, but also from the nature of their insti- tutional positions, which are similar only in that they do not push these leaders into regular contact with core area blacks, who might either scorn their affluence or, more likely, cross-pressure them with claims which cannot be met. In sharpest contrast, all the separatists must main- tain regular contact with individuals from the subcommunity—- and in roles in which they often must speak for other inter- ests. Again, there is a certain irony: institutions recruited these leaders in part because of their assumed support in the subcommunity, and the leaders themselves try to retain their contacts with the subcommunity, even as they are upwardly mobile; but one can argue that it is the veryflpersistence of these subcommunity contacts which tends to drive home the tensions between their preferred roles as black organizers and their roles as workers in "white" institutions. I guess some of them see me as coming from "the man"—- and maybe they're right, I don't know. . . .58 *"Most of them [blacks clients] go elsewhere. Only about 5% of my case load, at most, involves blacks in any way. I'm expensive, you know."57 292 Though these relationships remain hypothetical, it might be useful in other cities to test the proposition and predic- tion that role strain will be greatest for leaders with separatist ideologies and occupational roles (in "white" institutions) which require frequent contact with the black subcommunity-~and least for integrationists who have infre- quent occupational contact with local blacks. However, there is some "strain" in all local leader- ship roles because of the conditions which work to separate Central City's predominantly middle-class leadership from blacks residing in the core area. For example, residen- tial separation presumably reinforces as well as reflects status differences* and an examination of Figure 9 shows that only two leaders--both separatists—-live in the core area. In addition, Central City's middle-class blacks have developed a distinctive social life, complete with "Miss Black Central City" contests,** an array of lodges and "TIL" ("Those Interested in Links"), a black women's club with a membership list reading like the subcommunity's "Who's Who." The prerequisites for these social activities effectively bar lower-class participation. Not surprisingly *For a full discussion of this subject, see Chap— ter III, pp. 157-162. **This beauty contest is sponsored by the Silver Leaf Lodge No. 534, Improved Benevolent Protective Order of Elks of the World. Despite their portentuous titles, there is little evidence that the city's black lodges are influen- tial in leadership activities--though one leader sheepishly admitted that he usually missed NAACP meetings because they conflicted with his "lodge night." 293 0 Suburb Central City / / / O .11. ' / Stc. 1.0 Capitol ”H4 I-96 n 0 _‘~_ "~_ boundary Rd. __ 0 I r J a— —- I I -I :1;: Middle Class* ‘.f | Core Area* ‘_"'. Neighborhood ."' Integrationist Separatist 0 Leaders' ,X Leaders' Residences Residences * See also Figure 3, p. 150. Figure 9.--Residential Location by Leadership Type. 294 for an upwardly mobile leadership group, individual traits are emphasized as the means to success--and the core area's lower-class is the subject of some pointed comments. I've worked hard for mine but a lot of blacks aren't very ambitious. But some people are gaining as much [by] not working, as by working. . . . . . . [There is] the element that is unemployed and unskilled--they create discomfort and rowdyism espe- cially for those who have to live near them. . . . . . . [A union president speaking of recruiting con- struction workers] I take them out in the rain and they say, "I'm not going to work in that goddamn dirty place!" They want to start at the top, not work as apprentices anywhere--they only think of the big money and want to make it fast. . . . You've got to learn hard work--that's what I did, and it's the only way.. . 59 Conclusion This and the previous chapter further develop a composite picture of local black leadership. Unlike the stereotype of big-city leadership as highly "militant" and "ideological" and actively engaged in organizing the "black community," in Central City most leaders favor conventional political tactics, most black organizations have ambiguous relationships with the subcommunity, and occupational roles are highly salient--though in differing ways--for both sep- aratists and integrationists. Any assessment of local black leadership ultimately hinges on an evaluation of the central trade-off made by most of these leaders: they have gained the advantages of co-optation and "access"--and the accom- panying constraints on leadership activities. The next chapter traces these activities on the local busing issue, 295 while the last chapter evaluates the effectiveness of black leadership in Central City and summarizes the findings. 296 FOOTNOTES* lLeadership interview. 2Leadership interviews. 3Leadership interviews. 4Leadership interviews. 5Leadership interview. 6Informant interview. 7Leadership interview. 8Informant interview. 9Informant interviews. loInformant interview. llInformant and leadership interviews. 12Footnote lO, op. cit.* l3Informant interview. l4"Free Counseling Initiated," State Journal, March 4, 1973, p. F-3. 15Informant interview. l6Neil Hunter, "Come, Till God's Gardens," State Journal, May 29, 1973, p. B-3. 17Ibid. 18Separatist proxy interviews (see p.202). l9"Concern Recorded," State Journal, March 17, 1973: p. A-6. 20Informant interviews. *Ibid. and op. cit. are used only when reference is made to a specific leadership or informant interview cited in an earlier footnote; otherwise, interviews are cited separately. Journal, 297 21Informant interview. 22Leadership interview. 23Informant interviews. 24Leadership interview. 25Footnote 22, op. cit., and informant interviews. 26Informant interview. 27£21g3 28Madelyn Bridgett, "Blacks Begin Plans," Grapevine January 30, 1973, p. 6. 29$§l§° 3OProxy interviews, op. cit. 31Leadership interviews. 32Leadership interview. 33Informant interview. 34Leadership interview. 35Leadership interview. 36Informant interview. 37Leadership interview. 38Informant interview. 39Proxy interviews, op. cit. 4OFootnote 38, op. cit. 41Proxy interviews, op. cit. 42Leadership interview. 43Leadership interview. 44Leadership interviews. 45Informant interviews. 46Leadership interview. 298 47Leadership interview. 48Informant interviews. 49Leadership interviews. 50See pp.279im3, for comments on role strain. 51Leadership interview. 52Leadership interview. 53Leadership interview. 54Leadership interview. 55Leadership interview. 56Leadership interview. 57Leadership interview. 58Footnote 55, 02. cit. 59Leadership interview. CHAPTER VI BLACK LEADERSHIP AND THE BUSING CONTROVERSY Introduction This chapter is a case study of the busing- desegregation conflict in Central City and the black leader- ship role in the controversy. The first section traces the main events, actors and strategies in the conflict from the early 1960's to the definitive District Court decision of 1973. Using the materials of the case study, the second part of the chapter reviews the relationship between the NAACP and the local school board, and also uses the concepts of issue-areas and role strain to develop an analysis of the variations in leadership activities on the busing issue. The last segment of the chapter also focuses on the busing- desegregation issue in considering the links between Opinions in the subcommunity and black leadership goals. A Decade of Desegregation The decade of the 1960's brought to Central City both the issues of de £3939 segregation and busing for racial balance, and the actors who would play an important part in the busing crisis of 1971-73: the increasingly militant NAACP, a Citizen's Advisory Committee, a polit- ically sophisticated school board and Superintendent, 299 300 an anti-busing citizen's group and a black spokesman against busing. The 1954 Supreme Court decision had had little imme- diate effect in Central City. As described in Chapter III, a pattern of residential segregation by race had gradually evolved in the city, and school attendance merely reflected these residential patterns—-or so school officials argued. However, there were also informal practices which helped maintain school segregation: the NAACP was later to claim that school officials deliberately had contained blacks at an overcrowded Main Elementary School, while permitting many white pupils to transfer to a near-by all-white school;l moreover, the school system evidently had used an informal quota system to limit the number of black teachers,2 after hiring the first two black faculty in 1951. By the middle of the 1960's, black integrationists feared—-with some reason-- that the city was developing a dual school system: 71% of black students in the junior high system went to one school and three of the elementary schools (Kalamazoo, Main and Michigan) took in about half of the black grade school pop- ulation.3 Frustrated by the lack of school integration in the city--but at the same time lacking any clear legal precedents against de facto segregation*——the NAACP's Education *Comment by NAACP leader: "The school people used to just g3 facto us to death. Finally, we decided that it was segregation no matter what they called it." 301 Committee* in April of 1963 asked the local Board of Edu- cation itself to adopt a policy statement favoring "equal educational opportunity." The NAACP wanted boundaries shifted for West Junior High so as to bring in more whites, and asked for appointment of a Citizen's Committee to study "the long-range aspects" of the problem of integration. What they most wanted, though, was to undermine the rationale of 99 £9999 segregation previously offered by Board members and school administrators: [We recommend] that the Central City Board of Educa- tion make a formal statement of policy favoring the elimination of school segregation regardless of the cause [emphasis added].4 The Board of Education was mainly composed of white "moderates" who felt it necessary to deal with the NAACP's concerns;5 thus, the Board did appoint a Citizen's Com- mittee, as suggested by the NAACP, and later closed schools and shifted boundaries to promote integration. However, on the central goal of the NAACP—-a change in the 99 facto segregation/patterns of residence rationale for existing racial imbalances--the Board resisted. In its requested "Equal Opportunity Statement" the Board members pointedly re-affirmed their commitment to the neighborhood school: The Board of Education plans to continue its tradi- tional practice of establishing attendance areas on a geographical basis because it believes that what happensiJlthe community and in the homes . . . is of crucial importance to the effectiveness of teachers. . . . The Board of Education recognizes that this policy produces in some areas of the school district *See Chapter III, pp.18TflB8. 302 an imbalance of minority group pupils (sometimes referred to as 99 facto segregation). This unde- sirable result is caused by factors beyond the control of the Board of Education. Nevertheless, the Board gave succor to the NAACP by appointing to the new Citizen's Committee many of the initial "agitators" for integration.7 This committee of fifty persons was authorized to study 99 facto segregation, and sixteen months later handed in its report. The committee identified Central City's pattern of segregated housing and noted that the pattern "unless modi- fied by other means inevitably will lead to segregated edu- cation."8 The report specifically suggested that the school board discontinue operations in the elementary and junior high schools with the greatest racial imbalances, and that affected black pupils then be assigned in equal numbers to each of the remaining elementary and junior high schools. Such a move would mean the effective end of black neighborhood schools and extensive busing of black school children around the city. Though the NAACP initially had wanted to shift boundaries so as to bring more whites to the predominantly black junior high, the integrationists now reasoned that the reports suggested one-way busing would draw the least white opposition. To the Board as well the recommendation had a cer- tain appeal: if, as the NAACP maintained, integration was more important to them than "neighborhood schools," why not eliminate black neighborhood schools and bus the children 303 into schools which would be integrated by virtue of their presence? Thus, on July 23, 1966, the Board authorized the transfer of all students residing in a portion of the West Junior High attendance area to Pattengill Junior High, beginningtfluanext September--thereby shifting enough blacks into Pattengill to integrate it and also moving toward the eventual closing of mainly black West Junior High. The Board also began consideration of a different proposal submitted by school superintendent Manders. In contrast to the one-way busing of Blacks entailed in the junior high transfers, the Manders Plan was for "cross- busing" of blacks and whites at the senior high school level, and was designed to end school segregation over the period of the 1966-67 and 1967-68 school years. A white citizen's group quickly organized-—not so much against the busing of blacks to Pattengill as in oppo- sition to the cross-busing of the Manders Plan. The organi- zational effort was launched from those neighborhoods to be affected, if the Plan were adopted. The "Colonial Village-- Eaton Downs Citizen's Committee" had an initial membership of about 200, but was able to acquire more than 2,000 petition signatures in the three days before the next regu- larly scheduled Board meeting.9 In response to the Commit- tee's demands, the Board arranged for two "open meetings" where citizens could speak on the Manders Plan. 304 The two meetings revealed not only the predictably heated opposition of the neighborhood group, but also a black spokesman Opposed to the Plan. J. C. Wilson, head of a black group called "The Grass-Roots Committee," argued that "the school system should get out of the bus system entirely"lo--and received great applause from many whites in the audience. Blacks from the NAACP and the Human Rela- tions Commission supported the desegregation plan. Encour- aged by the evidence of some black opposition to busing, the neighborhood group met after the public meeting and re-formed itself into the People's Action Committee on Education (PACE)--and began working in coalition with Wilson's Grass-Roots Committee.* Despite the broadened opposition, the school board in August gave final approval to both the junior high trans- fers and the Manders Plan for high school desegregation. Having failed to sway the Board through petitioning and speeches in the open meetings, PACE undertook legal action. On September 7, l966--just before the school year was to begin--the County Circuit Court ruled that the Plan could not go into effect until the Court could study its con- stitutionality. Faced with possibly a full year's delay of the Plan, the Board went into conference with the Court and *It proved impossible to trace whether other black leaders served on the G.R.C. and how many members it had. Integrationist leaders dismiss the organization as largely a figment of J. C. Wilson's imagination. When interviewed, Wilson was reluctant to discuss the G.R.C., preferring to talk about his current activities. 305 arranged a means whereby students affected by the busing plan could attend their newly assigned schools on a "volun- tary" basis--allowing school officials to transport them by bus. The Superintendent then used this arrangement to "squeeze" white resistance: students not reporting to their assigned schools were denied admission. Not being able to await the eventual outcome of the suit, most students (78%) "voluntarily" attended their assigned schools.ll However, on September 13, the County Court ruled that school officials could not continue the maneuver and must maintain the past enrollment system until the courts ruled on the Manders Plan. The school system complied and the desegregation plan was dead for the 1966-67 school year. However, PACE was eventually to be beaten by the decisions of both the courts and the school board. The Circuit Court injunction was reversed in 1969 by the State Court of Appeals, in a decision which maintained that school systems could use racial criteria in student assignments for the purpose of racial balance; a few months later the deci- sion was sustained when the State Court of Appeals refused to consider the case. Meanwhile, the Board--with support from the NAACP-- had moved to desegregate Central City schools without using extensive cross-busing: in April of 1968, sweeping changes in junior and senior high boundaries were announced--without "open meetings"; at the end of the 1968 school year, West 306 Junior High was closed and its students (almost all black) bused to other junior highs which they then "integrated"; in June of 1970 the mainly black Kalamazoo Elementary School was closed and its students bused elsewhere."‘12 The goal was to desegregate all junior and senior high schools by the end of 1972,** and the means used made black school-children a bused population: 80% of the stu— dents bused in Central City were black.13 Thus, by 1971 the NAACP and the integrationists reasonably could claim to have reached a large part of their goal: the junior and senior high schools were well on their way to being inte- grated via one-way busing. The next step was desegregation of the city's elementary schools. The Report and the Reaction Reacting to fights in the schools and a sit-in demonstration the previous November, the School Board tried in 1971 to establish Assistant Principals in charge of discipline in each school.*** However, many black leaders had begun to think that integration in the schools should extend beyond "body-mingling"--and other blacks wished to *Furthermore, another "black school," Lincoln Ele— mentary, had been closed at the end of the 1965 school year --and its students also distributed by bus to other schools. **Using federal guidelines,(see;L 315), this goal was achieved, with the exception of one high school. ***The first Assistant Principal was to be assigned to Sexton High School, site of the black demonstration-- which led several leaders to regard the Board's actions as anti-black. 307 move into jobs in school administration; together, they insisted that rather than appoint a host of new Assistant Principals the school system should appoint a black Deputy Superintendent. A broad coalition of support formed behind the idea. The wanted a black Deputy Superintendent before the Board wasted money on those head-busters [Assistant Principals]. . . . Everyone was there [at a meeting with the Superintendent]: the ministers, people from Malcolm [Institute], bourgies, the youngsters, the old mama's--1ike Mother Hosler, she was there, even James* came along. . . . That's the one time I can ever remember that everyone came together in one coalition. . . .14 When a black Deputy Superintendent was appointed,** the leadership was encouraged by the display of political muscle. Hence, by 1971 the NAACP and the predominantly inte- grationist leadership could have the justifiable feeling that events were moving their way. Not only had concrete steps toward secondary school integration been taken and black infiltration of teaching and administrative ranks begun, but other factors also led to an optimistic outlook. Federal courts had begun to relax their requirements for establishing 99 jure segregation***--and the NAACP lawyers *James Faraday, the city councilman, was usually cautious about involvement in potentially damaging causes. **The school system had come a long way from 1951; by 1972, 9.2% of the system's teachers and administrators were black--a prOportion which was increasing every year. ***For example, when the defendants in U.S. vs. School District 151 argued that their district's de facto segrega- tion came about "innocently" and that they had no constitu- tional duty to undo the result of housing patterns, the 308 thought a case could be made against the local school sys- tem, if necessary. Several Board members and the school Superintendent also realized this possibility--which acted as a spur to further desegregation. Moreover, for the first time a black representative, Harriet Campbell,** sat on the School Board--and was to play a central role in the busing controversy. Finally, the black leadership saw the new school Superintendent, Carl Calelli, as "on n16 our side," and a "leader for integration. In this context, the Board turned to the next phase of its desegregation program with a familiar tactic, again appointing a citizen's committee. The Citizen's Advisory Committee on Educational Opportunity was composed of fifty members and carefully chosen to be "representative of the ethnic, economic and geographical composition of the entire school district."17 Thus, the Committee included twenty- four men and twenty-four women, thirty-two whites, six Mexican-Americans and ten blacks.18 The blacks selected by this ticket-balancing logic generally were second-echelon activists--persons who had been active in the P.T.A. and on District Court responded that school policies had "effec- tively rendered 99 jure the formerly extant 99 facto seg- regation." In the 1970 Davis vs. School District of the City of Pontiac case, the trial judge warned Boards of Education that When the power to act is available, failure to take the necessary steps so as to negate or alleviate a situation which is harmful is as wrong as is the tak- ing of affirmative steps to advance that situation. Sins of omission can be as serious as sins of commis- sion.15 **See p. 177 and voting data, p. 178. 309 some educational issues, but who were neither mentioned fre- quently as "outstanding leaders" nor particularly prominent as militant integrationists in the city.* As the Committee began its work, however, it became apparent that all of the blacks favored cross-busing for desegregation. By now the majority of the Board, as well as the Superintendent, were firmly committed to final desegrega- tion of the Central City school system, an intent reflected in the tasks assigned to the Committee: it was to develop a plan and a time-table for final desegregation of all schools for the Board's consideration; it was to review the 1966 report of the first Citizen's Committee and suggest any appropriate changes in its recommendations; it was to recommend changes in existing policies regarding equal oppor- tunity, and also to review recommendations by another com— mittee** concerning educational facilities on the black West Side.19 The Board used the Citizen's Committee to legiti- mize what the controlling majority thought they had to do, under NAACP and court pressures--use extensive cross-busing to desegregate the elementary schools. Indeed, as the Com- mittee was appointed, two neighboring school districts *From the Superintendent's and Board's point of view it would have been politically counterproductive to select militant integrationist or NAACP leaders for a Com- mittee expected to return a recommendation for extensive busing by the school system. **The West Side Education Facilities Committee, see p. 312. 310 began operating cross-busing programs under federal court orders. The Committee was instructed to deliver its report by March 1, 1972. However, in the intervening year the political context* for the Board's impending decision changed. With federal Judge Merhige's decision requiring metropolitan- wide desegregation in Richmond, "busing" became a national issue**--and with the similar Roth ruling in nearvby Detroit, the issue acquired a particular salience for Central City voters. In addition, in the period before release of the Committee's report, a series of racial conflicts broke out in the local schools, and newspapers were filled with repeated accounts of fights, stoning incidents and school closings.20 Student suspensions increased and both police and staff from the Human Relations Commission repeatedly were called to the desegregated high schools. In this situa- tion, school administrators began to be deluged with calls from parents concerned about the rumored "busing plan" being formulated by the Citizen's Committee.21 By February--two months before the final report was produced--the "Citizens for Neighborhood Schools" (CNS) had organized. Anti-busing petitions signed by 11,000 voters were given to the Board, CNS members began to attend all ‘1 *For an analysis of the Board's changing tactics, See pp. 339-341. **For a summary of events and reactions surrounding the busing issue see Theodore H. White, The Making of the President, 1972 (New York, 1973), pp. 86-88; 225-228. 311 public Board meetings, and petitions requesting a constitu- tional amendment barring busing for purposes of desegrega- tion were sent to the state's Republican Senator.22 The CNS insisted it did not oppose integration of the schools but only busing. The organization listed six reasons for its opposition: safety hazards on school buses, the hinder- ing of after-school activities, the extra time needed to reach students in an emergency, the costs of busing, increased air pollution caused by buses and "loss of community togeth— erness."23 Emil Lawther, the president of CNS, spoke to the Board in February about the rumored busing plan: "We rep- resent a majority of the people. It's time you listened to the petitions and desires of the majority." If busing were to come in the fall, Lawther threatened a CNS boycott of the schools, a campaign against the re-election of Board members, and the possible withholding of school taxes. By the week preceding release of the Citizen's Committee report, CNS had already announced that it was gathering signatures on petitions aiming to force a recall election for the six Board members favoring busing for desegregation. However, other pressures were also brought to bear upon the Board of Education, the Superintendent and the Committee. The Central City teacher's union and a special- ist from the Superintendent's own staff* publicly emphasized *This individual, a black, recently had been appointed the school district's Advisory Specialist for Equal Educa- tional Opportunities. 312 staff desegregation as the most important factor in any new desegregation plan.24 The seventy-eight-page report from the West Side Facilities Study Committee introduced another complication: after hearings in the black neighborhoods of the West Side revealed the desire of both teachers and par- ents for a new neighborhood elementary school,* the Study Committee recommended both a new elementary school for the black neighborhood and school desegregation. Clearly, to many black spokesmen the terms for acceptable desegregation were changing. Its recommendation of a new school, said the Study Committee, should "not be interpreted as a lessening of its commitment to the imple- mentation of a district-wide desegregation plan"; instead, the elementary school in the black neighborhood should be integrated--but this time by busing in whites: The burden of desegregation . . . should be shared equally by all and . . . present policy in which the major burden of desegregation is carried bysone ethnic group should be discontinued. . . . Well-publicized visits of black parents to the fifty-seven-year-old Michigan Avenue Elementary School (headline: "Mich. Ave. School Gets 'Dirty, Filty Mess' Label")26 reinforced the subcommunity's demand for a new West Side facility.** *Many black parents had felt "taken" when, at the NAACP's urging, schools in black neighborhoods were closed and black children bused. The eventual redefinition of what a meaningful desegregation plan would be (by the integra- tionist leadership) can be viewed as a partial response to these concerns in the black subcommunity; see pp. 360-362. **See pp. 223-233, on the Kingsley Facility controversy. 313 Other groups also began to mobilize, led by the NAACP which announced that it would fight the recall elec- tion. "Concerned Citizens,‘ a pro-integration group formed by black ministers, began holding meetings (in cooperation with the NAACP) in core area churches, and also presented its petitions to the Board of Education. GAIN ("Group Associated for Integration Now"), a small group of liberals --many from a suburb outside the school district—-was formed by a Unitarian minister, and announced that it favored a metropolitan-wide plan for two-way school busing; it, too, sponsored meetings with the Concerned Citizens group at the Baptist Church. Faced with these differing pressures, the school Superintendent and the Board decided on an "open meeting" strategy to "educate people about the [busing] plan."27 Once the Committee's report was in--and before a final Board decision-—the recommendations of the Committee would be "aired" in a series of public meetings where any citizen might speak. Already in February of 1972, Superintendent Calelli began meeting with principals, P.T.A. representa- tives and "interested persons"; in his first meeting he declared that the 99 1999-99 facto distinction "was getting very blurry," and that the school system had a legal and moral "mandate to move toward desegregation."28 314 In this situation of a determined Superintendent and a Board majority committed to further desegregation,* intense white opposition, black demands for cross-busing, changing court precedents, the NAACP's push for integra- tion and the West Side's demand for a new school, the Citizen's Committee belatedly introduced its report at the April 20th Board meeting. The Committee stated that it sought the best method for "achieving the goal set before it," and that busing was an acceptable "tool" for the pur- pose of desegregation. However, the tensions in the city were reflected in splits within the Committee-—which pre- sented three different "busing plans" plus a minority report filed by fourteen of the Committee members.29 Plan I proposed that the city's elementary schools be divided into geographic groupings, each with a "cluster" of seven to nine schools. Each school would have only two grade levels and students would attend continuously for two years before moving to a higher grade. This proposal called for the purchase of an additional twenty-five school buses and the busing of an additional 6,886 students.** Plan II was similar, but would keep students from kindergarten through second grade in their neighborhood schools--with *By federal criteria, twenty-five Central City schools remained segregated--one high school and twenty- four elementary schools. **The school district already operated forty- seven buses with 3,684 students being transported daily. 315 Table 46.--Central City school district ethnic count-- School Eastern *Everett Hill High Sexton Otto *Allen Attwood Averill *Barnes Bingham *Cavanaugh *Cedar Cumberland *Elmhurst *Everett Fairview Forest Road Forest View Foster *Genesee Gier Park *Grand River *Gunnisonville Harley Franks *High *Holmes *Horsebrook Kendon *Lewton 5 6 20 20 8 January, 1972. SECONDARY SCHOOLS Black % School Rich Gardner Pattengill French ELEMENTARY SCHOOLS 3O 13 ll 7 4 3 4 l3 5 3 14 ll l9 17 22 8 ll 1 21 8 32 2 9 7 Lyons *Main Maple Grove Maple Hill Maplewood *Michigan *Moores Park *Mt. Hope *North Northwestern *Oak Park Pleasant Grove Pleasant View *Post Oak ReO Sheridan Road *Valley Farms *Verlinden Wainwright *Walnut Wexford *Willow Woodcreek Black % 16 14 10 16 *Denotes schools officially classified as segre- gated; all enrollment percentages given to nearest whole per cent. 316 only an additional 2,016* students being bused each day. Plan III would have retained the current grade-level organ- ization for the elementary schools with ll-3l% minority student populations, and divided the remaining schools into two groups between which enough busing would occur to bring each school into the "proper" ll-3l% range. This Plan required the busing of an additional 1,576 students. The minority report (Plan IV) was different: the kindergarten through sixth grade system would be maintained in all elementary schools, and "a minimum number" of stu- dents would be bused to achieve the ll-3l% range in each school; proponents estimated that this approach would mean the busing of 1,279 £9999 students. The minority members of the Committee also requested deferral of any busing plan until the matter was clarified in the courts. All of the Plans, including the minority report, agreed with the recom— mendation that a new West Side elementary school be built. A crowd of 700 listened as the Options developed in the fifty-four-page report were read. None Of the audience comments that followed, however, were directed to any of the four specific Plans. Instead--in a pattern to be repeated throughout the Open meetings--busing was generally attacked and few reacted to the details of the four Plans. Clearly, any plan tinged with "busing" was intensely Opposed. After *The Committee's numbers were fairly close approxi- mations of the actual number of children involved. For months the Committee had been running various busing plans through the computer of a near-by university. 317 hearing the Committee report, most speakers contended that busing would deprive parents of their freedom to choose to live in a neighborhood near a particular school. A black member of the Citizen's Advisory Committee had a differ- ent view: The question here tonight is not really busing. Busing is only a tool and really shouldn't be an issue. . . . Your real concern is that one day pos- sibly you might have to answer the question, "Guess who's coming to dinner?"30 The Recall Election The six open meetings scheduled by the School Board did not work as hoped for by either the Board's majority or the black integrationists. The meetings did not seem to "educate" publics about specific busing plans, focused as they were on general excoriations of the school bus. Never- theless, the Board announced that it would give preliminary consideration to a desegregation plan on June 1 and reach a final public decision at its meeting of June 15. The integrationists, too, had hoped to rally support to their views* and arranged for various black spokesmen, the League of Women Voters, GAIN, the West Side Neighbor- hood Association, Concerned Citizens and the Central City Association of School Administrators to endorse Plan I at the meetings. However, the Opponents of busing dominated all meetings, and CNS speakers were able to recruit members *Most black integrationists favored Plan I as the most extensive desegregation proposal. 318 for their organization through the publicity generated by the public forums. The six Open meetings tended to follow a certain form:* some