A From Black
By JOHN HUDGINS
One of the things that this
column has constantly at
tempted to drive home is the
reality of police oppression of
Black people in this country.
The undue haotsßment, surveil
ance, arrests, are all a part of
the regular behavior of the
police establishment in this
country as far as Black peo
ple are concerned.
The recent headlines about
a small section of Chapel Hill
street serve to drive home this
reality, to make what I have
been saying more obvious to
those of us who think this
kind of thing only happens in
the "North". The first story I
wish to call your attention to
appeared Monday, July 10,
and told of the great heroic
efforts of officers Ronald
Cooper, M. W. Mitchell, and
Mike Ellington, in arresting
two brothers for alleged dis
play of beer in public. We
read of a daring triump of
ju4ice written in the style of
old "Dragnet" movies .. I mean
understand the problem, here
we see members of the so
called vice squad, the crime
prevention squad, and the state
ABC, riding around together
looking for people with beer
in their hands, in violation of
City code section 13-12. With
all of the drug problems in
this area, all of the unsolved
murders (the student at NCCU,
the 90 year old Black woman
that I have discussed earlier)
with all these problems three
representatives of the de
fenders of justice make front
page in a minor arrest like
this.
As always we have to look
at the other aspects of the
situation. First, the people ar
rested or harassed were Black.
Second they were part of a
crowd of Black people
gathered on a street corner in
Durham, in a particular sec
tion where merchants have
complained. Now ever though
the authorities admit there is
no law against such as assem
bly, a barrage of minor viola
tion become of utmost im
portance. I call it harassment,
love Me, Love My Wife
By GEORGE B. RUSS
Effie screamed and fought
like a tigress. Why she fought
so ferociously against an enemy
that no longer struck back at
her did not dawn upon her
until she saw the ragged man
crash through the wire of the
screen door. At this point, she
grew panicky and fearful that
he might sue her for some sort
of body damages. Slamming
the door against the antarctic
weather and the bloody, shiv
ering, wreck of a man. She
pondered her fate.
"I ought to let the bastard
freeze," she replied to the intter
voice that kept prodding her to
have mcrcv on lh«* man huddled
in the corner of the backporch.
And after much thoughtful de
liberation. she snatched the
overcoat and jacket from the
chair, opened the- door and
tossed the garments through
the hole in the screen. Slam
ming ill' - door, she bolted it
against ihr sound of the man's
whim|»ering. There couldn't
possibl) be an> fear of a second
attack. She was sure thai
l,ockhart would never darken
her doorway during her life
time.
Effie was sure, 100, lhal the
bolted door was not against
any thing outside the door so
much as it was an attempt to
protect herself against the real
ization of a great truth lhal
she could no longer ignore as
she had done over a period of
ytars. She had felt the in
sidious movements of the
gnawing at the pit of her
stomach as it spread upward.
At the momenl, she could not
fully evaluate the extent of
damage to her well buiflg.
The hassle with
had left her weak and swoony.
And to add salt to the open
wound, she was sure that she
would be less than half alive
from this day forward. Her
I can't see any other reason
for such behavior. It has little
to do with public safety. The
only serious disruption (ex
tremely small) was provoked
by the police in the kind of
actions that were condemned
by the Kerner Commission
Four (4) years ago.
We need also to look at
the merchants who made the
complaints. How many Black
people do they employ in
meaningful jobs. How do they
treat the Black people who
live in that area when they
come into. those stores. Per
sonal experience tells me that
much could be changed.
Who is responsible for the
fears of the so-called cus
tomers. Many of them have
fear 'cause they are not used
to so many Black folks who
are not grinning and smiling
at them. I mean if the situation
was that bad with all the
cops in that area (and inspite
of the paper, I can recall riding
through that neighborhood
very few times that I did not
see a patrol car) if the situa
tion was that bad with all
those . policemen then how
come they couldn't report any
arrest for assault and battery,
no arrest for indecent expo
sure, no arrests for abusive
language. With this extremely
bad situation the only vio
lations documented were
"minor". I am led to conclude
that the only thing serious here
is the police, harassment, over
reaction, and the paranoia of
a few mixed up white people
and some "colored" one 6.
Again we ask you not to
believe it cause I said it, but
check out the facts check out
who gets bothered for what,
where you see the most police
cars, where you see the worst
in police conduct. For a
rather recent period we have
been hearing talk about the
streets being unsafe to walk
on. Well let me remind you
that the streets have always
been unsafe for Black people
after dark, whenever there is
a patrol car around.
greatest fear of the creepy, de
vouring thing inside her was
the naked truth of being un
able to love Chad the way he
loved to be loved. This soli
tary thought was maddening
and she dropped upon her
knees, cringing with burning
hatred for Gladys Hodges;
"You're satisfied! You're
happy!" Effie screamed these
words over and over until her
throat burned hotly and when
she tried to swallow, her throat
sent out stabbing pains. In an
effort to assuage the inferno of
throbbing pains in her chest
and throat, she ran to the
kitchen, opened the door of
the refrigerator and held her
peppery neck close to the cold,
moist air, and wept like a baby.
"Lord—l wouldn't mind dying—
but," Her voice trailed off and
she stood caressing her throat
with her chilled fingers. "Per
haps I will be better off if I
don't speak the awful words."
God should know her mind
anil heart well enough to know
what she wanted most of all in
this world. "Why? Why?"
She asked herself over and fiver.
Why God blessed one woman
lo have and hold and keep and
call her own, something she
did nol care for, while another
woman wanted, needed and
would do anything Lo share
only a few hours each day
with him, puzzled Effie more
and more as she moved in a
da/.e from room lo room.
The sudden ringing of the
telephone startled her some
thing awful and she stood reel
ing and nicking on unsteady
legs. Her thoughts ran wildly
through her tortured brain as
she tried guessing who it was
calling. Strangely enough, she
felt sure the caller was not
Chad. Still pitzided as to who
the caller might be, she snatch
ed the receiver off the hooks
| The Carolina Times §
1 Feature Page I
Writers
By GEORGE B. RUSS
ON CITIZENSHIP - GIVING TYI
Like unto the passing of the
big time political bosses, gi
gantic name powers in the con
trol and distribution of the
nation's wealth, snobbery in
our social registers—so goes the
hey-day of the flamboyant, top
rung-of-the-ladder church lead
ers.
We still have some marvelous
church workers, but the day of
the Stars, apparently, has
passed away. However, the
nostalgia still lingers on. Whom
do you think coined the ex
pression, "everybody is doing
his own thing?" For better or
worse, the congregation of
women is no longer headed up
by a single "ball-carrier." The
masses no longer listen to a
single "big wheel." The "we's"
are the policy makers of what
goes on and, you might say,
the jungle of noises is deafening.
But this too will pass away—
what is left remains to be made
manifest.
There is no ax to grind with
those truly wonderful persons
who were keepers of the scep
ter in bygone years. Permis
siveness was a way of life,
therefore, the grab for crown
wearers was left to those with
the necessary qualifications to
rule—lead. And life would have
been a colorless monotone
without those coordinators.
Mrs. Laura Thompson of
Union Baptist Church had be
come a legend in the category
of attache of church affairs
long before she married Walter
Davis and moved into the big
white house on Dowd Street
where most of her time is spent
caring for the lovely plants
and shrubs growing in and
around the house.
There was a time when the
name Laura Thompson was
popularly linked with all large
church oriented programs in
and around the city. These
were the years when Quartets
flourished like mushrooms,
each vying for the spotlight, all
willing and ready to give their
services—until some big time
operators learned the art of
cashing in their talents—you
recall the more popular 40-60%
basis that was used.
Entertainment had not
reached the variety volume it
has today—and, sponsors need
ed persons with the know-how,
the presentation, the charm
and patience to turn a packed
house of penny-pinchers into
gold brick patrons.'
Mrs. Thompson was well
qualified; she had the good
looks, wore, the right kind of
clothes, possessed the charm
and know-how to steamroll a
program into the channel of
success. And it goes without
saying, she was top billing
where dollars and not cents
of the annoying instrument and
yelled "hello" into the mouth
piece.
Maude Williams' voice came
in, loud, clear and too cheefful;
"Effic Jefferies, you mustah
been In something you ain't
had no business in."
"Maude!" Effic's surprise
was genuine; "hearing from
you is like finding something
good for the sore eyes."
"DonLt try to make me feel
any better chile—l just got a
present from the old man and
I'm fit to kill."
"I'm glad for you, Maude,
you deserve anything you get
that's worth a nicklc out of
that sorry bastard." Effie tried
with all her might to match
the joy bells sounding in
Maude's voice.
"You sound like-ah-fool
woman—." Maude laughled.
"1 feel worse than that,
Maude."
"What's wrong wid you and
Chad now%"
"He's okay-I feel like lam
going to die—."
"What!"
(Continued)
made the difference in an
evening well spent.
Staging a program like Slab
town Convention easily netted
more cash for a single night
of wholesome entertainment
than the results of days and
weeks of dropping coins into a
"rainy day bag" or paying ten
cents a Sunday to the Debt
Service Club. Naturally, a
Star was born—a new kind of
leader was on the horizon.
The pinnacle is never an
easy place to dwell no matter
how well fortified one may he,
and one can be correct in the
assumption that Mrs. Thomp
son's perch was not always a
bed of roses. However, the
lady held the spotlight with
Jm m
W.J/M
JM
MRS. LAURA T. DAVIS '
the regality of a queen. She
gave unstintingly of her time
and talent to whatever project
that came before the women of
the church. If the chips were
down, barricading the success
of the project, she used the
simplest method available; a
smile, and prayer. Then, she
moved forward with success.
The fathomless smile is still
one of Mrs. Thompson Davis'
strongest physical assets. Al
though her footsteps are slow
and unsteady, her eyes have
not lost their lustre nor their
tendency to penetrate, subtlety,
your very soul.
The hat! Her head-gear;
those distinctive creations that
she wears is the L.T.D. trade
mark. These eye-catchers are
worn like crowns upon a proud
head that bows only in humble
submission, a confirmed fault.
"Ma-Laura," as she is fondly
called by her many admirers.
She loves young people—young
marrieds on their first legs,
and young people in need of a
home away from home; she
lives with and by a creed that
can and often proves to be a
bone of contention by others
who try living by the tenet:
"If I can help somebody, then
my living shall not be in vain.
This grandame speaks without
compunction regarding the
principle she lives by: "the
seeds that I have sown have
been reaped in untold benefits."
for
the look
. you wont...
the comfort
you need;.. ;
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XJUOOOL VVVVVVVVVVI^
JSr
/ mBBH
I frill „
Hife; '
Sgt. James Fairfax often uses
native materials in place of
canvas. Here he has used a
Portrait Of The Black
Artist As A Marine
The line of artillery stretched
out diagonally across the land
scape of Vietnam, one after
another like modern leaden
images of a child's neatly
placed collection of tin soldiers.
Off to one side, behind the
line of guns, sat Staff Sergeant
James Fairfax. In his eye,
this black Marine saw not 10
or 20 big guns, only one.
Though his weapon was by his
side, his hands were not on it.
Instead, with the ringing of
round after round of shells
fired at the enemy echoing in
his ears, Sgt. Fairfax sketched
the actions of the single big
gun and its crew. He watched
them—an individual part of the
American involvement in Viet
nam—and saw the effort in the
black-and-white luotif of char
coal and sketching paper.
Later, a Marine helicopter
picked up Sgt. Fairfax and
deposited him in Danang, his
base of operations. He settled
down in his studio, a distinctly
non-military cottage, filled with
the paraphernalia and paintings
of an artist.
In a few days, working with
palette, h.iife and brush, his
muted acrylic colors transform
ed his sketch of artillery into a
painting that has been shown
throughout the United States,
hung in several galleries and
even been used as a magazine's
cover illustration.
Sgt. Fairfax was acting under
orders given by Commandant
of the Marine Corps to produce
works of art, not unKke artists
of the past, commissioned by
kings and popes to produce art
on demand. There was a dif
ference in his two-year tour of
Vietnam, however. Sgt. Fairfax
was given a free rein in his
choice of subject matter. And
he saw the war in the terms of
the individual, American and
Vietnamese alike.
As a combat artist, he was
one of 67 military specialists
given this rating and the only
black. Sitting recently in his
studio at Marine Headquarters
outside Washington, D.C., Sgt.
Fairfax mused about the work
he had done in Vietnam.
"Combat doesn't turn me
on. People do. I painted the
human aspects of war: the
man on point, a single gun
crew, doctors working to save
a single life, a woman Marine
• • y
The Deadline for news and pictures to appear
in THE CAROLINA TIMES on Saturday of the
current week is Tuesday, 10:00 ajn. Material
reaching this newspaper after the deadline will
absolutely not be accepted. If material is not
perishable, it will appear in the next edition.
rice bowl as part of the med
ium for his acrylic works of
art. (See story)
playing jacks with Vietnamese
children. Even in a war zone,
people are still just people.
They laugh. They eat. They
die.
"My personal feelings of
what the war is all about is
what they call the hearts and
minds. I'm not keen about the
idea of winning the minds be
cause I think that if you win a
person's heart, they'll give
themselves to you.
"For example, I painted a
picture of a Marine smiling
down at the tiny Vietnamese
baby he was holding in his
arms. He was surrounded by
other children obviously
friendly to him. It could have
have been patterned after the
Sunday School picture of
Christ laying his hands upon
the shoulders of children. But
it wasn't. The painting isn't
propaganda. It happened. I
saw it.
"A short time later, that
same Marine might have called
the Vietnamese 'gooks' and dis
counted their humanity. But
for that moment, the one I
painted, he saw neither 'gooks'
nor danger. He just saw kids.
When that happens, it s a good
thing for all of us."
Sgt. Fairfax has strong feel
ings for children. He has two
himself and while in Vietnam,
he started a personal effort tc
bring art, unencumbered by
adult advice, out of the schools
in Vietnam.
The pictures he has collect
ed, painted by a cross-section
of Vietnamese children (off
springs of both the wealthy
and the poor, those who have
seen actual fighting and those
who have not), form an inter
esting parallel to his own work.
They depict both the good
and the bad of Vietnam: some
of the children's paintings show
helicopters and fighter bombers
in the sky or a napalm attack
devastating an area. But more
prevalent are scenes of a man
working in a rice paddy under
a happy sun or a fisherman
sitting contentedly on a river's
bank.
Again like the children whose
paintings he brought back to
his hometown of Washington,
D.C., Sgt. Fairfax's art has been
self-taught.
"When I was a kid, art got
me into a lot of trouble. I
Saturday, July 29, 1972 THE CAROLINA THUS-
YOUR
MIND
True Faith Mist Be JAffA Wi
Accompanied By Work
1 By WILLIAM THORR>MMH
Before writing my columns
every week, I relax my mmd
and body completely, and
focus my attention inward and
meditate with earnest and
meaningful expression with
great yearning in me to get
m touch with the creative
power that resides within my
inner mind, which gives me
an inspired sensational feeling,
impossible to express or put
In words. It's a feeling, that
cannot be held long at a time
in my conscious mind, but a
feeling which can return time
and again for wisdom and
knowledge that can flash ideas
and thoughts to be put in
circulation through writing or
oral expression.
Any writer probably would
tell you that anytime an idea
takes form in a person's con
science and goes out from his
mind, it seeks to externalize
itself and become manifest in
the world without. We could
consider that this is the way
in which our dreams of today
become the realities of to
morrow.
Moving on up to the sub
ject this week; our contact
with our body is established
and maintained through feel
ing. Our physical body is the
instrument through which
what we have pictured in
mind becomes manifest in our
outer life.
That brings us up to the
point where we should realize
that our creator of this uni
cerse does not change the laws
of nature to suit our specific
needs, and we actually create
in our minds the world in
which we live. But we have
many people who are calling
upon our creator to serve
them in this manner, such as
helping us to use the sources
that nature has provided for
us. They have been taught that
faith alone should be sufficient
to produce results.
As was mentioned in my
column a couple months ago:
"Faith alone with no effort
and action on our part pro
fits nothing; it must be ac
companied by works. We could
consider faith without work
as "Blind Faith", and bUnU
faith is never answered even
if a person tries to crystalize
it by prayer.
It is merely mechanical lip
service which has no effect
what so ever upon God's given
power that is stored in our
sub-conscious mind. This must
be reached and activated by
right visualization, supported
used to cut classes at Cardoza
High School and go to the
galleries to see how other
people painted. I'd leam a
little bit from one artist and a
little bit from another.
All Roods in Durham Lead To
Five Points & 1
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by an exerdae of koovtaf
faith that what a person de
ares wiD come to paaa, in
time, if he puts forth every
mental and physical effort
toward its attainment.
Now, we should realize that
our creator didn't intend fot
as to be a living human para
site on this earth, begging and
depending on him to do every
thing for us. When all the
sources of nature are here to
produce necessary resources
to supply our needs, plus his
creative power that resides in
our minds to operate within
our five senses, and carry on
the works upon this earth to
be performed.
Finally, true faith is not
guesswork, nor ia it the idle
belief that we can sit down
and picture things coming to
us without making any effort
to bring them. And remember;
true faith is one of the
strongest forces we can com
mand, that is faith within our
selves, which requires that we
must back up our faith and
also be capable of achieving
a certain end by working
toward that end with every
energy and faculty at our
command.
HOG STATE
North Carolina is now
one of the major hog pro
ducing states. From the
statistics reported con
cerning hog production,
marketing, dollar values
and Inventories, North
Carolina ranks anywhere
from Bth to 12th among
states, depending on
which statistic is used.
ORGANIC JEWELRY
Jewelry is going
organic. Italian design
ers are showing veg
etables in their newest
designs. Most often,
golden vegetables are
strung together to form
long chains.
Vegetable appliques
also are popular on
clothing, says Dorothy
Barrier, extension cloth
ing specialist. North
Carolina State Uni
versity.
TV'S Cameras
Typewriters
Record Players
Tape Players
SAM'S PAWN
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Phone 682-2573
122 East Main St.
7B