University of Virginia Library

Atlanta: A City Out Of Place

By Barry Levine
Cavalier Daily Staff Writer

Atlanta is to Georgia as the
University is to Charlottesville: out
of place, out of touch, and occasionally,
out of sight.

It is a political enigma. The state
with the peaches, the Ku Klux Klan
rallies at Stone Mountain, and Lestor
Maddox, (whose politics are
about as subtle as an ax-handle),
has a capital with a booming business
establishment, a liberal mayor
and a black vice mayor, and a
disproportionate share of the nation's
civil rights leaders.

The city that prides itself on
being "too busy to hate" is encompassed
by a state that often
relishes every opportunity it gets.

The reason for this gap are
almost as varied as the two establishments.
Atlanta was forced to
rebuild after General Sherman destroyed
the city, and the municipal
symbol of a phoenix rising from the
flames demonstrates that the city
had little time to cherish old memories.

Originally the crossroad of several
railroad lines, Atlanta soon
developed into its present role as
the major communications and
transportation center in the South.
It now holds the dubious distinction
of owning the second-busiest
airport in the nation, highlighting
the fact that little moves in the
Southeast without going through
Atlanta.

The charred memories of Civil
War destruction, and the influx of
outsiders to the rapidly growing
area, infused a Southern pragmatism
into the city's politics. Beginning
several decades ago with
mayors whose moderate conservatism
seemed radical compared to
the Klan-oriented state government,
it culminated last year in the upset
elections of "avowed liberal" Sam
Massell as mayor and the engaging
Maynard Jackson as vice-mayor,
victories were produced by a classic
alliance of the black community,
the labor unions, and the white
liberals.

The black population of Atlanta
proper is approaching 50 per cent,
although the more conservative suburbs
are overwhelmingly white. The
city possesses a large black middle
class, and black participation in the
local government has increased
dramatically in recent years.

Yet, while Atlanta represents
some of the best hopes on an urban
scene that is plagued with despair, it
has some of the critical problems
that are faced today within and
without the New South.

With a pitifully small tax-base,
Atlanta must rely on the rural
controlled state legislature for
handouts. It must somehow pry
money lose from the lightening
fingers of the federal establishment,
in order to tackle problems that
have remained untouched for too
long.

The unique situation of the city
requires it to face the needs of this
century while its political parent is
still licking the wounds of the last
one. Across the street from City
Hall stands the gold-plated dome of
the state capitol, protected at the
entrance by a statue of Southern
gentleman Thomas Watson raising
his arm in a clenched fist salute,
reminiscent of the days when such
a salute meant rebellion from the
right.

And the Woodstock Nation refuses
to let the Peach State alone
Freaks poured into Atlanta at the
beginning of the summer, riding a
rumor that police harassment was
less in Atlanta than in other cities.
Although scenarios of 50,000 wan-down
South
never materialized, the mere sight
of hippies was kindling to those
who had natured well-developed
hatreds long before they saw their
first long-haired scapegoat.

As a result, the growing 10th
Street "Strip" became a strong target
of abuse by day and a
bumper-to-bumper tourist attraction
by night. State legislators, with
one eye on the invaders and the
other on the ballot box, said that it
was time to "clean up the area by
any means necessary." At a police
committee meeting, one held up an
envelope of what he claimed were
photographs of "nude hippies" at
the Strip and at a recent rock
festival, and promised his cheering
supporters that he was going to
"send them to the FBI."

In the midst of such
over-reaction, the Strip had few
elected friends, all of whom were in
the city government. At the request
of an "alliance" group composed of
freaks from the Strip, Mayor Massell
established a storefront police
precinct. (To case the move, the
police hired a local artist to paint
the head of a pig, topped by a
patrolman's hat, on the front window.
Over the head were the words
"Pig Pen." The sign was removed a
few months later when a permanent
precinct was established, but the
name remains.)

Attempts by the Mayor to convert
a nearby vacant field into a
park complete with showers and a
camping area were blocked in committee
by conservative aldermen.
Clarence Greene, a community services
coordinator whose long white
hair gives him a hip, albeit
antebellum, appearance, was assigned
to act as liaison between the
Mayor's Office and the community.

As in many other cities, the
police are often drawn from rural
and lower-class areas, and they
come intact with all the fears and
prejudices of their environment,
with little real understanding of the
urban situation. The conflicts between
the hip community and the
police often becomes nothing less
than class war. The necessity of
police in the area is a reality,
however, not only to curtail the
movement of the hard drugs and to
control the bikers, but also to keep
the hostile element in and out of
Atlanta from converting their epithets
into senseless attacks.

The problem the police themselves-that
is, how to live with
them or how to live without
them-is a crucial one for Atlanta
and most other large urban areas.
Pressing hard for increased pay,
stringent educational requirements,
and placement by psychological
testing, Atlanta is trying to cope
with a problem that certainly
exists. Police overreaction is a daily
occurrence throughout the nation;
the killing of a 14-year old black
boy in Atlanta in August brought
the wrath of the black citizens
upon the department, and outlined
the pitiful performance of police in
the black community: over-reaction
is often the only protection the
ghetto residents receive.

The Mayor set the laudable goal
of 50 per cent black employment in
city government within 40 months,
and the police department is a
prime target.

The largely white Fraternal Order
of Police, a pseudo-labor organization,
has resisted attempts to
change recruitment and assignment
practices. The deep-seated resentment
of the pressure, as well as the
abuse that the police receive, recently
led to a slowdown in the department.
The issue ostensibly was the
right for the under quipped patrolmen
to carry more protection,
ranging from handcuffs and billy
clubs to shotguns. Yet, the real
issue was a force antagonized because
its bullish attempts at law and
order satisfied no one.

Atlanta remains the brightest
spot in the South today, but it
certainly has problems as great as
any Northern city can offer. Yet
while the Northern metropolises
must fight in order to survive, it is a
wonder that Atlanta exists at all.