Uncivil Wrongs IV - Aftermath

By: Jerry Smith
Publisher: StClairCountyAl.com

All eyes were on Birmingham after the bombings, so the networks wasted no time in taking their share of the resulting profits. Howard K. Smith hosted a TV special called Birmingham: City of Fear, which haunted the economy and reputation of our part of the world for decades afterward. The bombings seemed to catalyze fresh trouble everywhere; serious trouble.

The Alabama National Guard formed an unbroken line of soldiers stretching from the bridge at Selma all the way to the steps of the Capitol in Montgomery, trying to keep order during the fifty mile march performed by thousands of blacks, white sympathizers, and hordes of chad from up North who had come down to join the excitement. Martial law was decreed for downtown Birmingham after the bombings. Their orders were to strictly enforce a curfew. All weapons were loaded, bayonets fixed. Many shots were fired at these troops from the shadows, and order was only marginally enforceable.

Over the next few years riots broke out everywhere. Detroit, Washington DC, and especially a place called Watts in Southern California, which was almost totally wiped out as militant black organizations urged their people to destroy their own neighborhoods and drive local merchants out of business. But by far the most far-reaching battles were being fought in the courts and in congress.

Civil Rights legislation was passed giving blacks an absolutely equal right and opportunity to vote in elections, urged and sponsored by organizations with their own political agendas. Other enactments gave them important jobs and preemptive considerations they had formerly been denied, whether they were qualified or not. I felt the sting of this new legislation myself as I tried to improve my own lot during the early 70's. I'd spent all day taking a Civil Service test to qualify for work at the Post Office, which was then a federal agency. An official told me later in perfunctory confidence that I had indeed made a very good score but should not count on getting the job because new laws had mandated that all available blacks, women and Vietnam veterans be given first preference. While I didn't begrudge the vets a helping hand, the rest of it really stuck in my craw.

As better jobs, education, and other artificial aids began to prop up the new economy, it was inevitable that every segment of society would demand better housing, whether they could afford it or not. To that end, a process called "block busting" came about. Various action groups would buy a house in a nice neighborhood, then sponsor a black family to move in. Within days, the neighbors would all panic and put their homes up for sale, hopefully as fast as possible before the inevitable plunge in property value. Realtors bought up these homes at a fraction of their former worth, then resold them to blacks who were being subsidized by their own support groups.

Hard-working families who had invested everything in their homes were often ruined by nothing more than a single black family moving into their neighborhood. Many shady real estate companies made fast fortunes by helping engineer these shameful deals. I was once offered a job doing exactly that. I turned the Pharisees down cold, explaining that I liked to sleep with a clear conscience, and didn't want my family to have to dodge bullets in our own home. There's something about a burning cross in your front yard that makes the neighbors wonder what you've been up to.

Meanwhile, downtown businessmen, sore from extreme loss of profits due to black boycotting, had gotten together and decided to "do the right thing" for the usual reason; profit. The White/Colored signs came down, and business picked up a bit, although economic demographics took a sharp turn as a result of this capitulation. Most whites considered this new business plan an act of disloyalty and, as more colored folks began to come back downtown to shop, affluent whites preferred to patronize suburban malls being built in their new neighborhoods.

The new wave of outward migration became known as "white flight", whereas everyone who could afford it (and many who could not) moved to the extreme suburbs, put their children into private schools, and generally abandoned metropolitan Birmingham to those who had "overcome". The racial mix in 1950 was roughly 60 percent white, 40 black. By 1980, White Flight had changed this to a majority of 55 percent black, and by 2000 it had become 75 percent. It would seem the victors had inherited their own devastated battlefield.

Throughout all these difficulties there remained a solid core of all races who merely wanted to live and serve the interests of their families. The new rules may have helped some folks a bit, but at a price too steep for others not so highly inclined. Millions of ordinary Americans, unable or unwilling to deal with changing times or hard-won opportunities, became the progenitors of a new class of people, the Inner City. This is what we see nowadays when driving through any major metropolitan area, especially Birmingham.

Windows and doors are barred, vacant buildings are covered with gang graffiti which insult our intelligence and former way of life, and our very lives are in danger in areas we once walked freely at any hour of the day. So much that we had cherished or taken for granted has since disappeared, replaced by pure ugliness and ruin; history's ashes.

So who's to blame? Would the Heart of Dixie have gradually evolved into an egalitarian society on its own? Well, maybe, or maybe it would have only gotten worse. As snazzy as the Fifties were for some of us, how much of it came at dear cost to others? On the other hand, did those others really want their lives turned inside-out in such an abrupt and violent manner? There's certain comforts that come with status quo.

I look back upon memories of Popsicle boys, shoe shine artists, porters, day laborers, janitors, lunchroom servers, nannies, garbage men, bellhops, peanut vendors, foundry workers, and wonder if they were really as contented as they appeared while doing simple jobs to earn a living commensurate with their chosen lifestyles.

I also recall that poor old man who cleaned our yard for a plate of food, and little old ladies who spent their days fishing for supper at East Lake, and wonder just how unfortunate or unhappy they felt themselves to be. The coming of new opportunity also mandated personal improvement. The descendants of those who failed to comply now reside by the millions in the heart of every major city in America, supported by our tax dollars.

I'll bet most of these people wish certain events of the Sixties had never happened.