4A
EDITORIAL AND OPINION/lit Ciattattt ^oft
Thursday, January 5, 2006
VLifc Cljarlottc
The Voice of the Black Community
1531 Camden Road Charlotte, NC. 2ii203
(ierald O. Johnson CEtVPUBLISHER
Robert /- Johnson CO-PUBLISHER/genkral manager
Herbert L White ron OR IN CHIEF
EDITORIALS
Baseball
wiOiout taxes
Is good lor
Ghailotie
Chariotte Center City Partners’ proposal to bring minor league
baseball back to Chariotte is an ambitious plan that has lots of
potential to ackl more vibrancy to uptown. \Mth a ballpark in
Tliird Ward, a park at Church, Third, Mint and Second streets
and a Second Ward revitalization plan, the center dty would no
doubt benefit the area
But as the centerpiece of a complicated series of land swaps
between Wachovia, Maas Mutual, the city of Charlotte,
Meckleiibiug County and Chariotte-Mecklenbiug Schools, the
baseball stadium should be built as a private or corporate ven
ture
Tlie primary beneficiary of a stadium, the AAA Charlotte
Kniglits, have longed to move out of Fort Mill, S.C,, where the
team has stru^ed near the bottom of the International League
attendance standings. Moving to Third Ward, baseball boosters
say, would improve the Kni^ts’ bottom line by making access to
games easier for Mecklenbuig County residents. Even in Fort
Mill, Mecklenburg residents made up the m^ority of the
Knights fan base, a fact not lost on ownership.
Minor-league baseball has been a boon to other mid-sized
American cities such as Indianapolis, Ind., and Buffalo, N.Y.,
where new stadiimis have become the primary summer attrac
tion. We see no reason why it wouldn’t work in Charlotte, where
the old Chariotte O’s ei\joyed a lo}ul following until a rift
between City Council and foniier Chariotte Hornets owner
Ceorge Sliiim led to the fi*anchise’s move to South Carolina.
While baseball would be a welcome addition, Charlotte’s polit
ical leadership should take a hands-off approach to funding the
venture Since the Knights would benefit most fix)m a new sta-
dimu, the fi*anchise’s owners should be willing to foot the $34
million construction bill Failing that, the only other alternative
we’d back is a toiuism or hospitality tax. like the one used to
finance Chariotte Bobcats Arena. Taxpayers, who are less likely
to get to games than hard-core baseball fans, shouldn’t be sad
dled with the bmtlen of paying for a stadium theyll likely never
use.
Pro sports arenas have done well by uptown, and vice versa.
Bank of America Stadiiun, home of the Carolina Panthers, was
built by personal seat licenses paid for by season ticket holders.
Tlie Bobcats arena was paid for by hotel and motel visitors. Both
have been rousing successes. Backers of a new Knights stadium
want the city to provide a long-term lease and infmstructure
similar to what the Panthers got to locate their stadium uptown.
Fair enough.
As for the other parts of the plan, the park, which
Mecklenbiug Coimty approved last year, would likely replace
the airrent Marshall Paric as an uptown facilitj’: While we have
reservations about a park uptown, it may ultimately add some
greenery and recreation to the center dty, espeaally if it pro
vides better access than Marshall Second Ward, which was a
predominantly black nei^iborhood until urban renewal wiped
the community out in the 1960s, would be reborn under anoth
er land swap with CMS, which owns Marshall Park, located
between Second and Third streets. Mass Mutual would develop
a mixed use development in Second Ward, which would result in
shops and mixed-income housing while CMS is compensated
through a synthetic TIF, or Thx Incremental Financing, that
would fimd a new headquarters across fix)m the Government
Center
It s ccouplicated and many players have to ^ree to p>artidpate,
but if taxpayers aren’t biutiened by aU the wheeling and dealing
to come, we say why not.
Losing a generation of relatives
Late Christmas night,
Charlotte Purvis, the oldest
of my three sisters, had me
laughing out of control at
Mama’s house
in Augusta,
Ga. I have
reminded
Charlotte far
more times
than she prob
ably cares to
count, of how
she came to be
the sister that
George E.
Curry
stole Christmas.
Briefly when we were kids,
Charlotte told Mama that she
didn’t believe in Santa Claus.
Althou^ Charlotte is four
years younger, I cringed the
moment she uttered those
fatal words. Mama said that
if she didn’t believe in Santa,
he wouldn’t have to bring her
any more toys. I quickly
informed Mama that I still
believed in the Fat Guy
because I didn’t want my
annual toy supply cut short.
When were alone, I told
Charlotte that as smart as
she was fishe had skipped the
first grade - that was not a
smart move.
We’ve had running conver
sations about that incident
over the years, but Charlotte
decided to pay me back this
year. I was sitting at the
kitchen table when she
entered the room with her
red Santa bag and jumping
on one foot, yelling “Ho, ho,
ho. Merry Christmas.” Seeing
Sister No. 1, as she likes to
call herself, hopping on one
foot and pretending to be
Santa Claus had me laughing
uncontrollably And because
of our history, her skit needed
no explanation. When I final
ly stopped laughing, I was
exhausted.
It had been that kind of
evening fi we’re always crack
ing jokes, imitating relatives
and recoimting fond memo
ries when we get tc^ther
during holidays fl and we had
migrated to the living room
when the phone rang at 10
minutes to midnight. Mama
answered it “Merry
Christmas” and discovered
that Sara, an ex-wife of my
youngest unde, Jesse Harris,
was on the other end. When
Mama mentioned that I was
visiting, she asked to speak to
me. When I picked up the
phone, she greeted me and
got directly to the point; “Your
Unde Jesse died this morn
ing in Birmingham.” I don’t
remember what else she said
because I ran fix)m the room,
sobbing, “No, no, no.”
Everyone knew from my
reaction that Unde Padna, as
we called him, had died. That
side of the family had gone
without a death in the inner
drde for more than three
decades. Now, this was the
third one in three years; Aimt
Kat, Unde Percy and now
Unde Padna.
We made a few key late
ni^t calls and followed those
up with others the next
morning. My youngest sist^.
Susan Gandy and her family,
had left earii^ in the day to
return to Ttiskegee, Ala. We
tried to reach her and my
other sister, Chris, on the
West Coast. Charlotte and I
made a mental list of people
to call and divided the
responsibilities.
WTth the calls made and my
preparing to return home
mid-day Monday, Mama said
she had received another call
informing her that the land
lord where Padna had been
living was mistaken and he
was not dead. He was at the
local VA hospital in s«ious
condition, but he was alive.
This was bizarre. But I told
Mama that given the choice
between believing someone
was dead and their ending up
alive or believing someone
was alive when, in fact, they
were dead, I’d take our
predicamait. Charlotte and I
embarked on a second round
of calls, telling the family that
our unde was still alive. I
began my return trip home
and several hours later,
Charlotte did likewise.
Having driven Neyah, my
3-year-old granddaughter,
fix)m Silver Spring, Md. to see
her great grandmother in
Augusta, I finally arrived
back in Maryland after mid
night. Neyah, eager to see her
parents after five days with
Papa. Neyah believes in
Santa, so St. Nick was very
good to her.
I settled into bed aroimd 2
a.m. for what I thought would
be at least 10 hours of sleep.
However, Monique Harris
Clitandre, one of Padnais
daughters, called fix)m
Atlanta at 8:35 a m. to say
that Padna had died for cer
tain this time. She and anoth
er daughter, Renee
Hedgemon Blango in Buffalo,
had spoken with the doctor
on a three-way call.
So, the roller coaster ride of
calling some of the same peo
ple for a third time, learning
when and where the funeral
would be held, and gathering
information that could be
used in an obituary was put
in motion again.
Althou^ I was tired fiom
my Christmas trip to
Augusta, I agreed to drive my
Uncle ^niie James Harris
(Uncle Buddy) and his wife,
Martha, to the funeral in
Birmingham fi*om
Jonesborough, Tbnn., near
Johnson City After I took
them back home, I spent time
with my oldest aunt, Julia
Mae Cbusin, in Johnson City
Aunt Julia Mae is 87 and
Uncle Buddy will turn 74 in
February Unde Frank, like
Aunt Kat who died three
years ago, has Alzheimer’s
and is 84 years old.
My cousin Lynn Stuart and
I have always lamented this
day We have no other undes
and aunts left on my motha*’s
side. I have only one aunt,
Mary Jo Bradford of Reform,
Ala., left on my father’s side.
It’s hard to see them grow old
and even harder to see them
What about the quality of black justice?
Ron
Walters
ILUSTRATONOpaj.
Uptown boosters and the Charlotte Knights want to build a
minor league baseball stadium in the center city.
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As I looked at the black
superintendent of police in
New Orleans, Warren Riley,
on television
recently jus
tifying the
killing of a
black man on
the streets of
the dty by his
pxjlice force
(perhaps by
bullets fired
by a black
policeman among the three) I
knew that this was not a
result for which the dvil
rights movement was fou^t.
For some time, a m^or goal
erf" the movement has been to
obtain more police, more
judges, more of everything in
the hope that the quality of
justice for blacks would
improve, but it doesn’t seem
to have made much differ
ence. This hints at the failure
of many blacks who have
becesue law enforcement pro
fessionals to take the dvil
ri^ts movement inside the
institutiem with them.
Looking through a number
of Web sites and statistical
sources, it is difficult to say
whether police killings of
Blacks is rising or falling.
But the facts gathered by
INQUEST show that report
ed ppUce shootings reached a
peak of 400 in 2001 and
dropped to 200 per year in
each successive year thae-
after Nevertheless, these
kiUings involve Uacks and
Hispanics di^mipQrtionately;
and 57 percent of them
reported in 2001 that they
have violent encounters with
police, a rate of twice that of
Whites. The growth of vio
lent inddents have appeared
all over the country, in
Cincinnati. Ohio, New York
City, several dties on the
West Coast, Florida, and
repeatedly in New Orieans.
Are black police officers
part of the solution in these
cases, or are they firing their
weapons at the same rate,
trying to fit into an often vio
lent, radst police culture.
And even where blacks are
leaders, have they adopted
that culture as a way of
insuring their mobility in the
system?
Ostetisibly, they have some
weapons, both in the law and
in the prindples that should
govern police conduct. For
example, the U.S
Department of Justice guide
lines on “Prindples of Good
Policing,” which focus on
avoiding violent encounters,
suggests that police culture is
deariy a pxfolem and recom
mends that police depart
ments adopt a set of values
that discourage the use of
force. One of those is that
‘The police department places
it hipest value c«i the preser
vation of human life.* But the
repeated use of deadly fiare
has been criticized by the
National Black Police
Officers Assodaticxi, headed
by Ron Hampton, and the
National Assodation of Black
Law Enforcement
Executives, as devaluing the
lives of other bracks in many
crises situations. But what
would ha;^)en if black police
officers b^an to otgect, dis
rupt and legally challenge
these practices from the
inside. In other words, rather
than joining the dysfimetion-
al police culture, what if they
took the dvil rights move
ment inside the institution.
In this connection, I have
also wondered about black
judges. While I have heard
about the occasional black
judge who has exerdsed
mercy in cases dearly involv
ing an iiyustice to a black
defendant, why would the
incarceration rate be as high
as it is, with many of them
serving on the bench now?
We know that black judges
have spoken out against
racism in the criminal justice
system, as indicated by a
recent book, ‘31ack Judges on
Justice” recognized as the
first reader where judges
have spoken out against
racism in profiling, incarcera
tion and sentencing and etc.
Moreover, one is also aware of
the outstanding dvil ri^ts
work of the National Bar
Assodation and black stu
dent law organizations.
But I also ran across a
study in Sodal Sdence
Quarteriy (Dec^nber 2001)
in which a study of 10 blade
male judges (4,374 sentences)
with 80 white males judges
(34,668 sentences) in
Pennsjivania coxmties,
between 1991-1994. It found
that Hack judges were 1.66
times more likely to incarcer
ate offenders than white
judges, even though the aver
age sentences given by black
judges were one month short
er. This made me wonder
how representative this
study might be nationally,
how hard black judges buck
the established system of sen
tencing in the guidelines, how
hard they fi^t the death
penalty, and how hard they
fi^t for probation for foison-
ers like Tbokie Williams who
have been rehabilitated, and
how hard they fi^t with the
legislature and the governors
to restore the voting rights of
convicted felons. In oth^
words, now that we have a
significant number of black
judges, are they part of the
problem?
We should continue to push
for black policemen and
policewomen and Black
judges, and excoriate the
Bush administration for its
paltry recxird of having ele
vated only 15 (7 of them
replacing other blacks) of 200
blacks to the federal bench.
But we should demand the
judicial and intellectual fire
power of Black judges be
turned up on the racism in
the justice system rather
than benefitting fiom thdr
mokality within it. They have
been too ejuite on nomina
tions for the Supreme Ckmrt
that may change the nature
of justice for generations.
In this era, we should Icxk
for the dvil rights movement
within institutions likp the
criminal justice system
rather thait always in the
street.
RON WALTERS is professor of
government and politics at the
. Vmverstffi'^f Siaryland College
Park.