Race and Recreation in Charlotte, North Carolina, 1927-1973
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‘PUBLIC ORDER IS EVEN MORE IMPORTANT THAN THE RIGHTS OF NEGROES’: RACE AND RECREATION IN CHARLOTTE, NORTH CAROLINA, 1927-1973 by Michael Worth Ervin A thesis submitted to the faculty of The University of North Carolina at Charlotte in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Master of Arts in History Charlotte 2015 Approved by: ______________________________ Dr. Sonya Ramsey ______________________________ Dr. Cheryl Hicks ______________________________ Dr. David Goldfield ii ©2015 Michael Worth Ervin ALL RIGHTS RESERVED iii ABSTRACT MICHAEL WORTH ERVIN. “Public order is even more important than the rights of negroes:” race and recreation in Charlotte, North Carolina 1927-1973. (Under the direction of DR. SONYA RAMSEY) In July 1960, Charlotte’s Park and Recreation Commission enacted an official policy of desegregation in the city’s parks, playgrounds, swimming pools, and recreation centers. This development, which resulted in the first integrated municipal swimming pool in the state of North Carolina, seemed to embody the progressive business-centric ethos of Charlotte’s white elite. While token desegregation was lauded by commentators as evidence of Charlotte’s progressive race relations, the reality was far more complex. During the majority of the twentieth century, the Commission utilized a series of putatively moderate methods to suppress black dissent and muffle white reaction in the city. Even after de jure segregation crumbled, de facto segregation remained largely intact. This form of exclusion was buttressed by discriminatory public policies that redistributed black tax dollars to white communities, spatial segregation that insulated middle-and upper-class white neighborhoods from African Americans, and police harassment that fractured militant Black Power organizations. The persistence of these factors disempowered black residents in distinctive ways, perpetuating poverty and insecurity. Although modes of white reaction in Charlotte were less vivid than massive resistance or the violence found in other southern locales, the effects of these seemingly banal policies were remarkably similar. iv ACKNOWLEDGMENTS This work, like any other piece of academic writing, could not have happened without the tireless support of a number of collaborators. The insightful advice and guidance of my adviser, Dr. Sonya Ramsey, improved my understanding of Charlotte’s story and deepened my interest in southern history. Meticulous edits and illuminating commentary from Dr. Cheryl Hicks and Dr. David Goldfield pushed me to understand the black freedom movement and urban history in a much broader context. Other members of the history faculty that provided encouragement and direction at crucial points include Dr. Gregory Mixon, Dr. Peter Thorsheim, Dr. Maren Ehlers, and Dr. Karen Flint. Special thanks also go to Ann Belk and the Everett Fellowship, whose support freed up crucial time for research in my first year. The staff of Special Collections in the J. Murrey Atkins library was essential in researching this topic. In particular, Tina Wright and Marilyn Schuster’s exhaustive knowledge of the university’s archives and Charlotte’s history benefited my project enormously. I would also like to thank my fellow history graduate students, Layne, Emily, Jake, Allyson, and Ian, for their advice and friendship throughout this process. Because of their camaraderie, my time at UNC-Charlotte was both enjoyable and enlightening. My parents, Mary and Jim Ervin, were unfaltering in their encouragement and support during this enormously rewarding and challenging process. v TABLE OF CONTENTS CHAPTER 1: INTRODUCTION 1 CHAPTER 2: ‘THE STREET WAS OUR PLAYGROUND’: THE RISE 20 OF SEGREGATED RECREATION, 1927-1951 CHAPTER 3: ‘THERE LIES A SLEEPING GIANT, FOR GOD’S SAKE AWAKEN 69 HIM’: PUBLIC LEISURE, LITIGATION, AND SPATIAL SEGREGATION, 1951-1966 CHAPTER 4: ‘TO SEEM RATHER THAN TO BE’: DIRECT ACTION, 122 MILITANCY, AND CONSERVATIVE REACTION, 1963-1973 CHAPTER 5: CONCLUSION 177 BIBLIOGRAPHY 186 vi LIST OF FIGURES FIGURE 1: Charlotte’s Wards, Courtesy of the Special Collections Unit of the University of North Carolina at Charlotte, Charlotte-Mecklenburg Historic Properties Commission Papers. CHAPTER 1: INTRODUCTION “Get on out, right now,” screamed a white father to his children.1 Three adolescent black girls had just waded into the Revolution Park swimming pool, shattering the tranquility of a hot July day in 1960. Leading an exodus of roughly half the white swimmers from the pool, this parent demonstrated the depth of white disapproval for desegregation. Although the pool’s white patrons refrained from violence that day, most of them abandoned Charlotte’s public pools for the rest of the summer. Unlike many other Southern communities, key city leaders publicly condoned the actions of the African American youth, providing several uniformed police officers to prevent a potential riot.2 This initial show of support, however, masked the obstructionist intentions of the Park and Recreation Commission, as well as the municipal government. After this first carefully monitored test case, the Commission drafted a series of parameters designed to limit black attendance to white pools and to encourage the bulk of the African American population to continue patronizing the poorly maintained and inconveniently located facilities designated for their use. Justifying their gradualist stance, the Commission asserted that “of all public facilities, swimming pools put the tolerance of white people to the most severe test, and present the greatest danger of disorder.”3 Moreover, the Commission empowered pool directors to prohibit the 1 Roy Covington, “Swimming Pool Desegregated: City Policy Statement is Issued,” Charlotte Observer, July 28, 1960. 2 “Charlotte, N.C. City Swim Pool Integrated,” The Evening Independent, July 28, 1960. 3 “The Park Board Accepted Reality,” Charlotte Observer, July 29, 1960. 2 entrance of black swimmers, if they felt that unrest was imminent, a power that was exercised multiple times in 1960.4 Although municipal leaders would cite the token integration of the Revolution Pool as tangible evidence of Charlotte’s progressive race relations, the story is far more complex. The first public pool desegregated in North Carolina, the NAACP’s test case at Revolution provided an important region-wide precedent. This contribution, however, obscures the persistence of Jim Crow segregation in Charlotte’s public, private, and commercial leisure spaces. Despite the city’s progressive reputation, Charlotte’s race relations were less than enlightened throughout the majority of the twentieth-century. Instead, this episode illuminates discrepancies in the city’s anachronistic progressive veneer in a number of distinctive ways. First, although African Americans were technically allowed to visit white pools after 1960, resistance from white patrons prevented them from partaking in this privilege for several years.5 Second, the lack of an immediate violent white reaction did not serve as evidence of idyllic race-relations. Rather, as this study demonstrates, white Charlotteans of all class-statuses resisted the inclusion of African Americans through a variety of methods, including boycotts, appeals to public officials, and flight to private facilities. Third, while this test ultimately provided some additional venues for black recreation, it did nothing to address the underdevelopment of public leisure spaces in Charlotte’s predominantly black neighborhoods. 4 Roy Covington, “4 Negroes Denied Admittance to Revolution Pool,” Charlotte Observer, July 29, 1960; “Revolution, Cordelia Pools Not Visited,” Charlotte News, August 4, 1960. 5 Lucy Gist to Leslie Barnard, April 10, 1964, Mayor’s Community Relations Committee, Robinson-Spangler North Carolina Room, Charlotte-Mecklenburg Library, Charlotte, North Carolina. 3 While Charlotte avoided race riots and other extreme forms of public disorder during the twentieth-century; this is not proof that local black citizens were unharmed by segregationist policies. Using leisure as a lens to analyze Charlotte’s black freedom movement, it is possible to provide several important correctives to the narrative. Primarily, this perspective demonstrates how the inequitable distribution of tax monies for public recreation harmed majority black communities in distinctive and tangible ways. Although this form of oppression was less vivid than acts of white terrorism, the effects were equally harmful. Black youth, unable to reach adequate parks and playgrounds, were forced to venture into a treacherous urban landscape to recreate, often exposing themselves to bodily harm or legal danger. In a larger sense, lack of access to leisure space also contributed to numerous social ills, including juvenile delinquency, depression, and poor health. Not only did segregated public leisure spaces reinforce notions of white superiority and black inferiority, but the extraction of black tax dollars for use in white neighborhoods undermined the fiscal security of local African Americans. Second, segregation in public, private, and commercial leisure spaces deprived the black community of the right to fully occupy the urban space they resided in and handicapped attempts to build a sense of community in African American neighborhoods. Finally, segregated leisure spaces, like other facets of Jim Crow, were a daily reminder not only of black second-class citizenship, but also that African Americans were considered to be subhuman. This uneven