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THE LIMITS OF BLACK POWER: CARL B. STOKES AND CLEVELAND’S AFRICAN-AMERICAN COMMUNITY, 1945-1971

DISSERTATION

Presented in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree Doctor of Philosophy in the Graduate School of The Ohio State University

By

Leonard Nathaniel Moore, M.A.

*****

The Ohio State University 1998

Dissertation Committee: Approved by Professor Warren Van Tine, Adviser

Professor William Childs Professor William E. Nelson, Jr.

Adviser

History Graduate Program UMI Number: 9834036

UMI Microform 9834036 Copyright 1998, by UMI Company. All rights reserved.

This microform edition is protected against unauthorized copying under Title 17, United States Code.

UMI 300 North Zeeb Road Ann Arbor, MI 48103 ABSTRACT

This dissertation examines the growth and development of Cleveland’s black community from 1945-1971. Part I, ‘The Search for Power,” is essentially a community study of black Cleveland from 1945-1967, while Part H, “The Limits of Power,” looks at the historic mayoral career of Carl B. Stokes, the first black mayor of a major American city. The twenty-six year period after World War II represented a period of increased mihtancy and political ascension for Cleveland’s black poor. With the large influx of southern migrants paralleling the structural changes in Cleveland's economy, the atmosphere greeting those in search of better living and working conditions was anything but the promised land. Upon arrival black southerners found a constrained housing market, large-scale job discrimination, inferior educational policies, and unfair police protection. But the black poor did not sit idly by during this period of increased repression. Inspired to some extent by the southern drive for voting rights and integration, they employed various protest strategies in their quest to enjoy the full measure of their civil and political rights. By staging rallies, conducting sit-ins, picketing, and by holding rent strikes, they brought much needed attention to their socio-economic. Later, when the black poor resorted to violent protest, city officials could no longer ignore their complaints. While many members of the community employed extra-legal protest methods, there was also a strong emphasis placed upon voter registration and participation. Although blacks in Cleveland had long held the right to vote, the small percentage of the

11 population often did not allow them the opportunity to place meaningful pressure on local politicians. But even when blacks gained representation in Cleveland City Council, black councilpersons rarely took a strong civil rights stance. As conditions for the black poor continued to deteriorate in the 1960s they began to strategize at the voting booth, with hopes of placing in office politicians sympathetic to their experience. The chief recipient of this political consciousness was Carl Burton Stokes, a native Clevelander, who was quite familiar with the conditions of the working-poor. Throughout his early political career as a State Representative, Stokes built up quite a reputation as an advocate for the black poor. This signaled to black voters that he did not represent a sell-out risk to the city’s political and business establishment. As the first black mayor of a major city, Stokes considered his election a logical extension of the civil rights movement. Upon taking office in 1967 he pledged to use his power to improve the lives of black Clevelanders through scattered-site public housing, a reformed police department, and increased job opportunities, undergirded by the total redevelopment of Cleveland's neglected inner-city. But in carrying out his political agenda Stokes faced considerable opposition. Throughout the course of his two-term four-year tenure Stokes was constantly opposed by a city council which blocked much of his legislative agenda, and an equally defiant police department which effectively resisted many of his reforms. Stokes also received consistent criticism from many members of the black middle-class who successfully contested Stokes' efforts to place public housing in their communities. Moreover, the black middle-class was also steady in its disapproval of Stokes' favorable relationship with local black nationalist figures. With these obstacles in

111 place Stokes was largely unsuccessful in achieving his political goals. He gained firsthand knowledge of the limits of black power.

IV Dedicated to my parents ACKNOWLEDGMENTS First, I would like to thank God for giving me the health and the strength to achieve my goal of receiving the Ph.D. I will forever be grateful to my adviser. Dr. Warren Van Tine, for having faith in me. In addition 1 would also like to thank Dr. Marshall F. Stevenson for his timely suggestions and criticisms. 1 also wish to thank other historians who nurtured my professional development: Professors Demoral Davis and Sheila Moore at Jackson State University, and Professors Joyce Thomas, James Borchert, Dillard Poole, and Donald Ramos at Cleveland State University. Also, I thank Samuel W. Black, who heads the African-American archives at the Western Reserve Historical Society. His knowledge of Cleveland's black community was always insightful. Next 1 would like to thank some of the best friends in the world. Jason, Sherwin, Dale, Ron, Dylan, Gary, Brandon, Barbara, Cecily, Pam, and Angela. All of you provided much needed encouragement and support when 1 needed it most. I am forever indebted to all of you. Also, 1 thank all the members of the Diop Historical Society. Lastly I would like to thank all the members of my family: Mom, Dad, San, Bev, Kevin D., Kev. Reggie, and Geoff. Thanks for everything.

VI VITA July 24, 1971 Bom-Cleveland, OH

May 1993 B.A. History Jackson State University Jackson, Mississippi

June 1994 M.A. History Cleveland State University Cleveland, Ohio 1995-present Graduate Teaching Associate The Ohio State University

FIELDS OF STUDY Major Field: History

Vll TABLE OF CONTENTS

Abstract ii Dedication v Acknowledgments vi Vita vii

Introduction 1

Part I: The Search for Power Chapter 1: The Growth and Development of a Black Urban Community, 11 1880-1940 Chapter 2: The Black Working-Class Response to the Institutionalization 45 of Urban Discrimination, 1940-1960 Chapter 3: The Rise of Carl B. Stokes and the Launching of Militant 102 Black Protest, 1960-1965 Chapter 4: Racial Violence and the Attainment of Power, 1966-1967 158

Part H: The Limits of Power Chapter 5: A Brief Honeymoon 209 Chapter 6: The Dual Nexus of Race and Politics 264 Chapter 7: Resurgence and Disappointment 307 Chapter 8: Council Wars 354 Conclusion 384

Bibliography 387

VllI INTRODUCTION

This dissertation examines the growth and development of Cleveland's black community from 1945-1971. Part I, "The Search For Power," is essentially a community study of black Cleveland from 1945-1967, while Part II, “The Limits of Power," examines the historic mayoral career of Carl Burton Stokes. I The aftermath of World War II ushered in a period of severe change for Cleveland's black residents. Many of these changes were initiated by the second great migration of black migrants from the South to the North. Between 1940 and 1965, Cleveland's black population grew from 88,000 to over 250,000. This explosion in the black population forced black leaders to adopt strategies and tactics in its quest to enjoy the full measure of civil and human rights. Although black Clevelanders had a long history of protest, the conditions they faced in the post-World War H era required them to employ a more militant strategy as they faced problems in four noticeable areas: housing, education, police- community relations, and employment. By far the most critical issue of the period was housing. As whites escaped to the rapidly-developed suburbs, black Clevelanders were stuck in the decaying inner-city. Either through restrictive covenants, zoning, bank red-lining, or outright intimidation and violence, Cleveland's black residents were prevented from taking advantage of the post- World War n housing boom. Instead they were confined to many of the older areas of the city, where they were forced to pay exorbitant rents for rat and roach-infested dwellings. Along with suburban exclusion, black Clevelanders also suffered from an inept urban renewal plan initiated in the 1950s. In theory, the city was to designate blighted areas, clear the land, and seU the land to developers who were supposed to develop low-to- moderate income housing. Although many dwellings were razed, no new housing was ever built, and displaced residents were forced to settle into existing overcrowded areas, which laid the foundation for new slum areas to develop. In response to these conditions, black Clevelanders protested by conducting rent strikes, writing letters to city officials, and on several occasions, threatening armed violence. Black Clevelanders also faced a battle in the arena of education. As the second great migration swelled the black borders of the city, many of the predominantly black east side schools became severely overcrowded, and de-facto school segregation became more entrenched. Overcrowding became particularly severe between the mid-1950s and the early 1960s as Cleveland Public School officials stuck by their policy of neighborhood schools. The school crisis came to a head in the early 1960s as black parents grew increasingly frustrated with a school administration that woefully neglected the needs of its black students. To change these conditions black parents marched, picketed, sat-in, and initiated school boycotts to draw attention to the plight of their children. Another critical issue that black Clevelanders faced was in the area of pohce- community relations. Throughout the history of black Cleveland, relations with the police department were never ideal, but in the post-World War El period the tensions grew more severe. The tensions with the Cleveland Police Department (CPD) centered around two issues: (1) dual law enforcement standards, and (2) the lack of black officers on the force. Many black residents rightfully claimed that the CPD had one set of rules for the black community and another for Cleveland's white communities. One constant protest echoed by black citizens was that the CPD let vice and crime go unchecked in black neighborhoods, while never allowing it in the outlying areas. Another criticism levied at the CPD was in the area of police brutality and misconduct. Throughout the period, black residents levied complaints against the police, ranging from illegal search and seizure to the more serious charge of police killings. Many black residents believed that dual law enforcement was able to exist because of the noticeable lack of black officers. For instance, in 1952 there were 1800 officers on the force, but only 4.3% of these were

African-American although the black population was roughly 25% of the overall city's total. To make matters worse, there was only one black sergeant, and not a single inspector, or captain. But black Clevelanders did not sit idly by while the CPD carried out its duty "to protect and serve." Many civil rights organizations, along with individual citizens sponsored rallies, marches, and sit-ins inside police headquarters to protest discriminatory treatment. Lastly, in their search for decent employment, black Clevelanders struggled to gain equal access to jobs. One main barrier to private sector employment was the exclusionary policies of local labor unions. Many affiliates of the Cleveland Federation of Labor prevented black workers from gaining membership, thus black skilled craftsmen most often plied their trade without the benefit of union membership, putting them at a serious economic disadvantage. In the area of public employment, many black residents were able to secure work with the City of Cleveland, but generally only in the unskilled departments such as sanitation and parks maintenance. In response to these conditions, black Clevelanders employed several protest methods. By far, the most common was to picket construction sites that employed laborers from racist unions. II While black Clevelanders devised various strategies and techniques to counter increased racial discrimination, they placed a tremendous value on voter registration and participation. Black Clevelanders in the post-War period drew upon a history of political activism by local blacks dating back to the 1870s as they sought change at the voting booth. As the problems of the black community became more entrenched and severe in the 1960s, the black electorate united around the mayoral candidacy of Carl B. Stokes. Stokes was particularly attractive for several reasons. First, many black residents felt that he could identify with their problems since he had grown up in poverty in the East side ghetto of Central. Second, throughout his early political career as a State Representative he consistently sponsored urban-based legislation that would directly benefit his black constituents. In addition, while at the State house, Stokes gained a reputation for being an independent-minded politician. Although he was a lifelong Democrat, he was not an organizational man; he supported issues on the basis of principle as opposed to party affiliation. Lastly, Stokes was outspoken against racial injustice, even, at times, expressing unpopular opinions. This posture was in stark contrast to many of the city's black councilmen who were often silent on racial issues. Because of Stokes’ attractiveness he was able to gain election as mayor by combining almost 95% of the black vote with sizable support from white liberals and the business community who felt that a Stokes mayoralty would assure tranquillity in the black community. As mayor, Stokes' main concern was to rebuild the city by rewarding his black constituents with a series of redistributive policies such as affirmative action, scattered-site public housing, a reformed police department, and a plethora of social welfare programs to improve their life conditions. Stokes' economic development plan to revitalize the city was launched in a massive program titled "Cleveland Now!" This program would attack poor housing, unemployment, health and welfare, and recreation throughout the city. The plan called for $177 million dollars from federal, state, local, and private industry for the first 18 months, which was to be the first part of a ten-year, $1.5 billion dollar improvement plan for Cleveland. Because of Stokes' popularity he had little trouble raising the requisite capital. But his program took a severe blow in July 1968 when local black nationalists engaged in a shootout with police, killing seven, including three white policemen. In the aftermath of the shooting it was discovered that the main figure in the shootout had received "Cleveland Now!" money to operate a community program. This incident virtually destroyed the reputation of Stokes. Since many business leaders supported Stokes as an "insurance policy" against racial unrest, these killings caused many of his white supporters to retreat. Throughout his first term as mayor, Stokes was constantly reminded of the police killings, and subsequently, donations to "Cleveland Now!" virtually ceased. For the remainder of his first term Stokes encountered difficulty implementing several of his programs. Most noticeably was his desire to construct public housing in a middle-class black community. However, he was successful in securing a city income tax hike of .05% to fund several of his social welfare programs. In addition, Stokes' early efforts to reform the Cleveland Police Department experienced positive results. Upon taking office he moved more light-duty personnel to active patrol, he supervised the recruitment of additional black officers, and he also placed sympathetic officers in positions of leadership. But because of the historic racism embedded within the Cleveland Police Department, the ability to change its racist character was beyond his

control. Even with the negative image Stokes received as a result of the shootout, he managed to win re-election in 1969 by the narrow margin of 3, 573 votes. But his second term as mayor continued along the same path as the first, with both disappointments and accomplishments. His second term was filled with continued attempts to reform the police department, to enhance the city's tax base, and to improve the overall quality of life for the city's black residents. While Stokes was able to implement several new police reforms, his attempts to establish other programs and initiatives were blocked by a Democratically- controlled city council that grew ever increasingly hostile to the Stokes administration. Late in his second term, Stokes would assume a maverick-like posture by forming the Twenty- First Democratic Caucus, a local independent black political party. This action was taken because of his dissatisfaction with the Cuyahoga County Democratic Party, which had consistently failed to address the concerns of the black electorate. While the mayoral career of Carl B. Stokes was marred by controversy, his administration would achieve several goals. In the area of employment Stokes placed 10,000-12,000 hard core unemployed in jobs or job training, while also establishing a Department of Human Resources and Economic Development, which fostered partnerships between job training centers and private industry. Moreover, he forced companies seeking city contracts to comply with the city's equal opportunity ordinance. This enforcement opened up significant avenues of employment. In housing, Stokes initiated the development of approximately five thousand low-to-moderate income housing units. This was revolutionary in that up until his tenure, virtually no new housing had been built in the central city since the 1930s. In education and recreation, Stokes and the School Board constructed seven full-service recreation centers, at a cost of one million dollars each. Lastly, in the area of police-community relations, Stokes' greatest accomplishments were recruiting more blacks to tlie force and securing promotions for existing black officers. While Stokes was unable to accomplish all of his campaign goals, he was able to improve the quality of life for thousands of black Clevelanders. More importantly, he was able to establish a positive national image that allowed scores of other black mayors to succeed in office, despite the fact that his administration was overwhelmed with racial and political obstacles. In addition, Stokes' rise to power signaled a new level of black political participation. The numerous campaigns for black political power that arose throughout the country were largely inspired by the efforts of black Clevelanders who had taken their struggle for civil rights from the streets to city hall, bringing an end to the traditional patron-client relationship that had governed black politics for years. Ill This study is chronological in nature. Chapters 1 through 4, "The Search for Power," is a study of Cleveland's black community that gives particular attention to the post-1945 era. In this section I analyze the four main issues that confront the black- working class in their search for equality, while giving special attention to protest activity. Housing, police brutality, education, and employment were by far the four concerns that greatly inspired black Clevelanders to resist. The climax of this protest was the election of Carl B. Stokes as mayor, making him the first black mayor of a major city. Chapter 1 analyzes the historical underpinnings of black protest in Cleveland prior to World War U, while Chapter 2 looks at the black working class response to what I term the "institutionalization of urban discrimination. " This chapter places the second great migration into the broader context of urban change by looking at how this large influx of black migrants literally changed the entire racial dynamic of Cleveland. For instance, with this continual in-migration, white Clevelanders would react by placing barriers in housing and employment, while formalizing racist policies in education and law enforcement. The rise of militant black protest and the early political career of Stokes is the subject of Chapter 3. In this chapter I argue that while Stokes was away serving in the Ohio State House of Representatives, the foundation for a black mayoral takeover was being laid on the East side of Cleveland. This chapter also looks at Stokes' unsuccessful attempt to win the mayor's office in 1965. Chapter 4 explores the connection between racial violence and Stokes' historic mayoral victory of 1967. Thus, to some extent the first four chapters lay the groundwork for the biographical chapters that follow in Part II, "The Limits of Power." Chapters 5 through 8 deal exclusively with Stokes' mayoral career. In this section I argue that Stokes' political agenda was unquestionably tied to the needs of the black working-class. However, although the city's business community supported him in 1967 with the underlying intent of assuring racial tranquillity in Cleveland's ghettos, that support would eventually evaporate, leaving him to fight the battles for Cleveland's black working class alone. But even when his support from the city's establishment began to wither, Stokes still stayed true to his political agenda of using his office to improve the lives of the black poor. Chapter 5 examines both the nine month-honeymoon that greeted Stokes' electoral victory and the Glenville Shootout, an incident that would virtually place a permanent scar on his political career. Chapter 6 analyzes the relationship between Stokes and the black middle-class that literally deteriorated in the wake of the Lee-Seville housing controversy, an episode that saw the black middle-class resist efforts by Stokes to place scattered-site public housing in their community. In addition, the civil service testing scandal, and the McDonald's controversy, also receive significant attention as I illustrate the often complex nature of race, class, and politics. Finally, Chapters 7 and 8 review Stokes' final two years in office, which saw his stormy relationship with a Democratically- controlled city council reach unprecedented heights. This continual conflict eventually led him to form the all-black Twenty-First District Caucus, a local black independent political party, which foreshadowed his decision not to seek a third term. IV Since the close of World War II black urban communities have undergone significant changes. In particular, deindustrialization, the development of second ghettos, racist school policies, and increased police repression have had a devastating impact on black urbanites. Up until now however, historians of the black experience have failed to examine the phenomena of post-World War H black urban life, preferring instead to focus on black community formation in the earlier industrial era. Even those who specialize in urban history have woefully neglected this later period, leaving it to the domain of social scientists, who rarely, if ever, have been able to grasp the historical narrative. This void in the literature is problematic because it is in this period after World War II that blacks become entrenched on the urban landscape. Likewise, although he made history as the first black mayor of a major city, Carl Burton Stokes has not received adequate attention from historians. The scholarship on Carl Stokes and his administration is lacking. The only works that give his tenure attention are his memoirs. Promises of Power, in which he argues that racism was responsible for his political failure, and Checkmate in Cleveland, by Estelle Zannes, which argues the direct opposite, that Stokes' confrontational attitude was responsible for creating opposition. Equally critical of Stokes is Philip Porter in his 1976 study, Cleveland: Confused City on a See-Savf. In analyzing Stokes' downfall he diminishes the role of racism while blaming Stokes for ignoring political criticism. Several other studies devote attention to Stokes' historic 1967 mayoral campaign. The most comprehensive is Electing Black Mayors, by William E. Nelson, Jr., and Philip Meranto. They place Stokes' election into the broader context of Cleveland's black community. They argue that the conditions on the black East side made the election of a black mayor possible. They conclude that black voters galvanized around Stokes because he did not represent a sell-out risk to the political and business establishment, rather the overall interest of the black community. Taking the opposite view is Kenneth Weinberg in his 1968 study. Black Victory: Carl Stokes and the Winning of Cleveland. Weinberg subscribes to the "great man" theory of history by suggesting that his election was not the "simple case of the right man being in the right place." Rather, Stokes helped "to shape the forces that made 1967 the right year and Cleveland, Ohio, the right place." Conversely, my study argues that Cleveland's black community produced Carl B. Stokes. Furthermore, I conclude that it was white racism that prevented Stokes from implementing his reform agenda. While it is certainly true that he received the influential support from the business community and middle-class whites in his 1967 and 1969 elections, I argue that this endorsement was not solely responsible for his becoming mayor. In all three mayoral elections, including his failed bid in 1965, Stokes' base of support was the black electorate; the business community only came aboard in a time of racial crisis. Subsequently, when the racial tensions cooled, the white power brokers in the city, including the business community, the media, and city council, all agreed that is was time for the black mayoral experiment to come to an end. * The lack of significant scholarship on Stokes is representative of a larger problem- the lack of historical studies on the black mayoral experience. While other mayors have been the subject of journalistic biographies, historical analysis on black mayors is non­ existent. Because of this omission, American history survey texts have failed to recognize the significance of black politics at the local level. Several of the most popular undergraduate textbooks, such asAmerica: A Narrative History and The American People, make no mention of the experience of black mayors. Likewise, the more specialized textbooks on recent United States history, such as the Unfinished Journey by William Chafe and In Our Times by Norman and Emily Rosenberg, omit the experience as well. Hopefully, the following volume will inspire historians to examine one of the most important, yet neglected phenomena in United States history, black political ascendancy.^

* * Carl B. Stokes, Promises of Power: A Political Autobiography (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1973); Estelle Zannes, Checkmate in Cleveland: The Rhetoric of Confrontation During the Stokes Years (Cleveland: Case Western Reserve University Press, 1972); William E. Nelson, Jr. and Philip Meranto, Electing Black Mayors: Political Action in the Black Community (Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1977); Kenneth Weinberg, Black Victory: Carl Stokes and the Winning of Cleveland (New York: Quadrangle Books, 1968); Louis Masotti, "The Making of the Negro Mayors 1967," in ed., Richard P. Young, Roots of Rebellion: The Evolution of Black Politics and Protest Since World War II (New York: Harper and Row, 1970); Henry Hampton and Steve Payer, eds.. Voices of Freedom: An Oral History of the Civil Rights Movement from the 1950s through the 1980s (New York: Bantam Books, 1990). 2 For studies of other black mayors, see: Wilbur Rich, Coleman Young and Detroit Politics: From Social Activist to Power Broker (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1989); Clarence Stone, Regime Politics: Governing Atlanta, 19 4 6 -1988 (Lawrence: University of Kansas, 1989); Of all black mayors Harold Washington has received the most attention. See: Paul Kleppner, C h ic a g o Divided: The Making o f a Black Mayor (Dekalb: Northern Illinois University Press, 1985); Dempsey Travis, Harold: The People's Mayor (Chicago: Urban Research Press, 1989); Alton Miller, Harold Washington: The Mayor, The Man (Chicago: Bonus Books, 1989); A good study that includes a discussion of Tom Bradley is Raphael Sonenshein, Politics in Black and White: Race and Power in

10 CHAPTER 1

THE GROWTH AND DEVELOPMENT OF A BLACK URBAN COMMUNITY, 1880-1940

At the end of the Civil War Cleveland was a center for commercial and industrial activity. Since the opening of the Erie Canal in 1825 local developers and industrialists exploited the city’s strategic position at the mouth of the Cuyahoga River, turning a primarily rural area into a major industrial outpost. In the years following the war several major companies such as Standard Oil, Warner and Swasey, and Sherwin Williams, dug their roots into Northeastern Ohio. Likewise, by 1870 Cleveland also became a center for the distribution of hardware and consumer goods, largely due to its massive transportation network. This industrial growth was accompanied by massive immigration from Southern and Eastern Europe. While the various immigrant groups were gaining a foothold in local industry, the black community was just beginning to take shape.^

Los Angeles (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1993). ^ For general histories see: William Ganson Rose, Cleveland: The Making of a C ity (Kent; Kent State University Press, 1990); Charles Whittelsey, Early History of Cleveland (Cleveland: Publishing Co., 1867); George Condon, Cleveland: The Best Kept Secret (New York: Doubleday, 1967); Edmund Chapman, C leveland: Village to Metropolis (Cleveland: Case Western Reserve University, 1964); Elbert J. Benton, Cleveland: Cultural Story of an American City (Cleveland: Western Reserve Historical Society, 1944); Elroy Avery, A History of Cleveland and its Environs (New York: Lewis Publishing Co., 1918). Philip W. Porter, Cleveland: Confused City on a See-Saw (Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1976); George Condon, Cleveland: Prodigy of the Western Reserve (New York: Continental Heritage Press, 19??); David Gerber, Black Ohio and the Color Line

1 1 Cleveland's first African-American arrived in 1809. By 1860 there were eight hundred black Clevelanders out of a total population o f43,000; two decades later that number increased to two thousand. As immigration from southern and eastern Europe continued to swell the borders of Northeast Ohio, there was parallel growth in the black community as well, with many black migrants leaving the upper-South for the urban North. Cleveland's formative black community benefited from high levels of social and residential integration.^ But ghettoization, the urban North's version of Jim-Crow, would usher in a new era of race relations. Between 1880 and 1910 the black population grew dramatically from 2,989 to 8,448, with the overall population of the city rising from 67,000 to 178,895. As the black population expanded in numbers, residential segregation hardened as the parameters of the black community became increasingly confined to the Central Avenue community. While the black community populated Central, white residents began to expand eastward to the streetcar suburbs of Glenville and Hough, and the many immigrant groups settled in their respective enclaves throughout other parts of the city. The Jewish community, for instance, bordered Central on the East, Czechs and Italians settled along the southern border of Central, and the Pohsh community further south.^

(Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1976); Thomas Campbell and Edward Miggins, eds.. The Birth of Modern Cleveland, I865-I930 (Cleveland: Western Reserve Historical Society, 1988). Kenneth Kusmer, "Black Cleveland and the Central-Woodland Community, 1865-1930," in Cleveland: A Metropolitan Reader, eds., W. Dennis Keating, et al. (Kent: Kent State University Press, 1995), 265-282; For general histories on Cleveland's black community see, William Franklin Moore, Status of the Negro in Cleveland, Ph.D. Dissertation, Ohio State University, 1953; Russell H. Davis, Memorable Negroes in Cleveland's Past (Cleveland: Western Reserve Historical Society, 1969); Russell H. Davis, Black Americans in Cleveland from George Peake to Carl Stokes, 1796-1969 (Washington; Associated Publishers, 1985); Cleveland Board of Education, The Negro in Cleveland (Cleveland: Board of Education, 1930). The experiences of Cleveland's first black settler, John Malvin, are found in his autobiography: John Malvin, Autobiography of John M alvin (Cleveland: Leader Printing Co., 1879); 5 Edward Miggins, "Between Spires and Stacks: The People and Neighborhoods

1 2 I With black Clevelanders increasingly confined to Central, residential segregation became the norm, setting in motion the city's housing pattern for the next century. Paralleling this development in housing came increased racial discrimination. The North's acquiescence to Jim-Crow was no better illustrated than in the arena of employment. Between 1870 and 1910, for instance, the black presence in the skilled professions declined from 32% to 11%. Because of exclusion black skilled-tradesmen were increasingly forced to secure low-wage common laborer work, while black women were required to seek work outside the home, generally as domestics.® Along with housing segregation and employment discrimination, the black community was forced to deal with the de-facto Jim-Crowing of public accommodations. Hotels, restaurants, and businesses that once served an integrated clientele now began to deny service to African-Americans. Although these informal restrictions were in direct violation of the Ohio Civil Rights Law of 1883, by World War I almost every public facihty had drawn the color line.^ While the emergence of Jim Crow angered the black community, it nevertheless set the stage for the community's first spokesmen. In Cleveland, as in most of black America, Booker T. Washington shaped the debate over political and economic strategies. In this critical period of community formation, many activists competed for recognition from whites as the unofficial voice of black Cleveland. The leaders of the period were John P. Green and Harry T. Smith who both represented an integrationist approach. Green was a firm believer in hardwork, thrift, and discipline, while insisting

of Cleveland," in Metropolitan Reader, 179-185. ® Kusmer, "Black Cleveland," 269. ^ Christopher Wye, "At the Leading Edge: The Movement for Black Civil Rights in Cleveland," in Cleveland: A Tradition of Reform, eds., David Van Tassel and John Grabowski (Kent: Kent State University Press, 1986), 121.

1 3 that African-Americans abstain from race-based unity, and instead, develop relationships with whites. Green’s philosophy was directly related to his childhood. Bora free to a bi-racial couple in North Carolina, Green came to Cleveland in 1857 at the age of twelve, settling in the Central Avenue district, and eventually graduating from Central High. He entered law school, with the help of whites, and became a lawyer upon graduation. Because Green owed his influence to whites, he strongly believed that all should follow his example. In comparison. Smith was a firm believer in racial unity. Bora in W. Virginia during the Civil War, Smith followed his parents to Cleveland at an early age. After graduating from Central High in 1882, Smith embarked upon his lifelong journalism career by publishing the Cleveland Gazette, a black weekly, that would survive until his death in 1941. Through the pages of the Gazette Smith stressed the idea of racial pride and solidarity as the best vehicle for racial progress. Smith argued that the lack of solidarity within the black community was "the bane of colored society," and this more than any other factor had impeded "the growth and development " of a strong ethnic culture. On the subject of integration, Smith told his readers "in the name of fairplay and equal justice, we demand equality and indiscriminate blending" in public places. However, he did not believe in begging for it.*

Although the philosophies of Smith and Green were popular throughout the community, their train of thought did not dominate in all circles. The theory of accommodation also found significant support on Cleveland's East side, most notably through the views of J. Walter Wills. Unlike Smith and Green who were raised in Cleveland, Wills did not arrive until he graduated from Antioch College in 1899. By

* Wye, "Black Civil Rights," p. 122; Kenneth Kusmer, A Ghetto Takes Shape, (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1976), 118, 130; Cleveland Gazette, 9 September 1885, 1 November 1884.

1 4 1904, Wills had become co-director of a local funeral home, and four years later he started his own funeral business in the heart of Central. Wills, an active supporter of Booker T. Washington, sponsored a number of Washington's programs such as the Black Businessmen's League, (a Cleveland affiliate of Washington's National Negro Business League) to encourage black economic endeavors.^ Wills and his younger proteges, Thomas Fleming, Welcome Blue, and Nahum Brascher, all subscribed to the ethic of Booker T. Washington. In 1903, they established the Cleveland Journal to counteract the integrationist slant of Smith's Gazette. The editors of the Journal often criticized the views of Smith and Green by suggesting that black Cleveland was in need of new leadership. Unlike Green and Smith, Wills and his young charges did not agitate for integration or inclusion. Instead, they felt that the creation of all-black institutions was the only way to strengthen the black community. This brand of nationalism suggests that by closing ranks, the black community would become self-sustaining and independent of white influence. But also as Adrienne Lash Jones writes, these younger, business-minded men also saw a "built-in clientele for their businesses and services." While Smith and Green espoused their theories without organizational support. Wills and his underlings established the Cleveland Association for Colored Men (CACM) in 1907 to advance their cause. As the only local organization devoted to the idea of civil rights, the CACM sponsored seminars, conferences, and lectures on the race question, plus the CACM often investigated claims of racial discrimination. Since

^ Kusmer, GAerro, "142-43. Russell H. Davis, Black Americans in Cleveland, (Washington, DC; ASALH, 1968), 141. Wye, "Black Civil Rights," 123; Adrienne Lash Jones, Jane Edna Hunter: A Case Study of Black Leadership, 19I0-J950 (Washington: Associated Publishers, 1987), 49; For further information on the day-to-day activities of the PWA consult the Phyllis Wheatley Papers, Western Reserve Historical Society, Cleveland, OH. Hereafter cited as WRHS.

1 5 it was the only civil rights organization in Cleveland in the early 20th century, many black residents looked to the CACM for strong leadership. However, because of the conservative nature of this new breed, they rarely, if ever, took a strong civil rights stance, although posing as a civil rights organization. The businessmen of the CACM, saw the local shift to Jim Crow as a business opportunity, while the black working- class saw blatant racial discrimination. This is not surprising since the CACM espoused many of the ideals of Booker T. Washington. * • Although lacking a viable civil rights organization, Cleveland's black community could boast of the Phyllis Wheatley Association (PWA), an all-black training school for girls established by Jane Edna Hunter. The PWA provided lodging, recreation space, domestic training, and employment for young black women throughout the city, and although it was one of the earliest and most successful social service agencies in Cleveland, it became a source of conflict within the black community. Because of Hunter's southern background and training at Hampton Institute, she accepted the Washington tradition of uplift. But her ideas for an all-black social service agency were criticized by members of the Green-Smith camp, including prominent African-American clubwomen, who argued that Hunter was attempting to draw the color line. When Hunter informed her critics that the PWA was sorely needed because of the YWCAs refusal to accept black girls, she still feU victim to verbal attacks. But with the support of Walter Wills and wealthy white benefactors, the PWA managed to have phenomenal success throughout the 20th c e n tu r y . Black Clevelanders' political mobilization dates back to the period of Reconstruction. In 1870, they founded the Colored Union Republican Club to encourage the registration of the small black electorate throughout Cuyahoga County.

** Kusmer, Ghetto, 152. •2 Jones, H unter, xv-xvi, 46-49.

1 6 Later that year, black voters demanded representation on the police force and delegates to the county Republican convention; they also supported a black candidate for Justice of the Peace. Throughout the late nineteenth century Cleveland's black electorate often united around a black candidacy, and when county Republican officials refused to support their candidates they often protested by threatening to leave the party. Although no desertion took place, party officials quickly realized that patronage must extend to the black electorate as well. These efforts paid off in 1873 as John P. Green began his long political career by serving as a Justice of the Peace, then eventually as a state representative, and later as a state senator. In the next decade, Harry Smith began the first of his three terms in the Ohio General Assembly, where he helped enact the Anti-Mob Violence Act of 1896 as well as the Ohio Civil Rights Act that same year.^^ As black Clevelanders gained representation at the state level, their thirst for representation at the local level greatly increased. Black voters resented that they had little or no influence within the local Republican party organization. This dissatisfaction eventually led to the establishment in 1897 of the Negro Protective Party (NPP), the first local black political organization founded to protest the policies of the two major parties. Throughout its existence, the NPP primarily promoted blacks to run for public office. But the organization soon crumbled and black voters once again returned to the local Republican party. But even though the NPP was short-lived, it signaled to party officials that the black vote could not be taken for granted and that if the GOP wanted black support it should support black political desires. With the black population continually growing, Thomas Fleming formed the Twelfth Ward Republican Club in 1901 to solidify black voting strength. Several years

Russell H. Davis "The Negro in Cleveland's Political Life," in Call and Post 17 September 1966; David E. Weber, Negro Voting Behavior in Cleveland, (M A Thesis, Kent State University, 1971), 21; Kusmer, "Ghetto,"132. Weber, Voting, 23.

17 later he formed the Crispus Attacks Republican Club to promote his own councilmanic candidacy. Although unsuccessful for several years, Fleming gained election as the nation's first big-city black councilman in 1910, largely with the bloc support of black

voters and the assistance of GOP boss Maurice Maschke. After his first term F leming failed to gain re-election but recaptured the seat in 1915, and then continued to serve until 1929. The political demands made by black voters illustrate that they expected black representation at all levels of government. These demands increased as white politicians ignored the rapidly deteriorating conditions of Central. *5 II Since the Central area was one of the oldest residential sections of the city, the housing stock was extremely poor. With many of the dwellings being old, poorly constructed, and dilapidated. Contributing to the problem of poor housing was that many of the early residents were stuck at the bottom of the economic ladder and they were often forced to rent slum-ridden dwellings at high cost. Even the relatively small upper-class black population faced poor housing conditions although they were economically able to afford better accommodations. The method of confining the black population to Central was the restrictive covenant, and the Cleveland Real Estate Board practiced wholesale discrimination in property sales. These acts of institutional prejudice generally confined over 98% of all black Clevelanders to Central.*^ Combined with the problem of poor housing was the widespread existence of vice. Prostitution, gambling, and crime all flourished throughout the Central area as the Cleveland Police Department adopted a policy of allowing vice in black areas. This policy of dual law enforcement angered and incensed many black residents and in 1912 black residents called a mass meeting with Mayor Newton Baker and Central

Ibid., 24; Kusmer, Ghetto, 145. Kusmer, Ghetto, 46.

1 8 Councilman Daniel Morgan to protest the lack of law enforcement. Newton and Baker agreed to clean up the area, but they were both defeated at the polls shortly after the meeting. By this time black residents were realizing that they could not rely upon the promises of politicians; they needed a viable organization to represent their interests and speak to their issues. ‘ ^ In the face of increased racial discrimination throughout the city, a group of black workers sensed the need for an organization solely devoted to race advancement, and in December of 1912 the Cleveland branch of the NAACP was bom. The formation of a local chapter was spearheaded by several black postal workers who were experiencing blatant on-the-job discrimination as preferred job assignments and promotions went to their inexperienced and unqualified white co-workers. In establishing the branch they believed that the "recently bom NAACP, with a militant leaning might be of some help to them." A list of the founding members reveals the strong working-class concentration of its members. Of the initial twenty members, eight were postal clerks, and others classified themselves as "messenger," "butler," "cook," and "barber." Notably absent from the list were the black elite. It is not known as to precisely why the black upper-class were absent, but it would be safe to suggest that the same rhetoric directed at Jane Edna Hunter for establishing Phyllis Wheatley, was probably hurled at these early working-class activists as well.*^ The local branch experienced little growth in its early years but it became immediately active on civil rights issues. One of its early battles was against the Cleveland Police Department. Relations between the all-white CPD and the black

>7 Ibid., 49-50. Russell H. D avis, Cleveland in 1912 Through 1961: An Account of the Cleveland Branch of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored P e o p le , unpublished manuscript in Russell H. Davis Papers, Container 9,Folder 140, 17-18, WRHS; Also see the papers of NAACP official Perry B. Jackson, WRHS.

19 community were never excellent, but they reached an all-time low when a rumor was leaked that a black male assaulted a police officer. In response, CPD officers proceeded to harass and arrest black men throughout Central. The Cleveland NAACP protested to city officials, who ordered patrolmen to stop the terrorism. As ghettoization took hold in Cleveland, African-Americans were forced to develop institutions and mechanisms to soften the blow. But, in the era of the great migration the process of ghettoization reached new heights. As the sixth largest city in the nation and a center for war-time industry many black southerners traveled to Northeast Ohio in search of better living conditions. With a thriving economy based on the manufacturing of iron and steel, paints and varnishes, foundry products, and electrical machinery, Cleveland was the prototypical industrial city, and many black southerners wanted to gain a foothold in this urban economy. Between 1916 and 1919 approximately 20,000 black migrants settled in Cleveland swelling the 1910 black population of 8,448 to 34,451 by the end of the decade. The idea of the North being the Promised Land quickly vanished however, as the new arrivals struggled to attain respect within the black community and first-class citizenship from the dominant white community. 20

Whereas Cleveland's 1910 black population was only 15% of the overall population, it was nevertheless quite prosperous, and as southerners began migrating in large numbers, the early residents greeted them with scorn, and at times, hatred. The southerners' southern speech and poor grammar caused many established residents to view their arrival with alarm. 21 Unlike the vigilance committees of the 19th century who

19 Ibid., 25. 20 For a more thorough discussion of the black community in Cleveland prior to World War I see, Kenneth Kusmer, A G hetto Takes Shape (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1976). Ibid., 100. 21 Angela Gruss, A Historical Investigation of the Influx of the Negro in Cleveland and His integration into its Cultural Pattern (M.A. Thesis, St. John

20 assisted escaped slaves in their transition to freedom, Cleveland's older black residents were cold and received the migrants abrasively. Like in many other urban areas, the majority of older residents believed that a large influx of African-Americans would lead to further racial polarization. In a sense this was an accurate prediction. One unfortunate result of the great migration was the further deterioration of the Central area. Since lodging was already in short supply, overcrowding became the norm, and this led to poor health conditions, high crime, and rampant vice. Because of the lack of long established race-based organizations, black Cleveland was not prepared to tackle the problem. The local NAACP, which numbered around 300-400 during the years of the migration, was unable to handle the situation, often suggesting that the area's large churches take up the matter of migration. In December 1917 the local NAACP branch sponsored a series of programs to discuss the effects of the migration. Out of these conferences arose the Negro Welfare Association (NWA), an affiliate of the National Urban League. The focus of the NWA was to work with southern migrants, assisting them in making the adjustment from the agrarian South to the industrial North .22 Unlike the NAACP, the early membership of the NWA came from black elites and white sympathizers. In its first year of operation ninety percent of its operating funds came from the all-white Cleveland Welfare Federation. The NWA also received a $10,000 grant from the mayor's office specifically to help black soldiers get adjusted to the homefront. The NWA assisted migrants with locating housing and employment, the most immediate needs of any newcomer. In addition, the NWA also undertook a so-called northemizing campaign that focused on "civilizing" the southern migrant. Like many Urban League branches throughout the Northeast and Midwest, the Cleveland affiliate taught classes on

College, 1949), 26. 22 Ibid.,32; Kusmer, G h etto, 254.

2 1 sanitation, cleanliness, and thrift, believing that, as historian Kenneth Kusmer writes, poverty was a problem in "individual cultm-al adjustment," rather than "racism."^^ The first director of the CUL was William R. Connors who left the headquarters of the National Urban League to organize the Cleveland chapter. Connors, who held a doctorate from the University of Pennsylvania, believed in attracting support from influential whites and shortly after he became director he appointed several members of the Cleveland power stmcture to the board. However, these appointments proved disastrous for the black masses because now the NWA was restrained from organized protest. Instead of using the vehicle of protest to resolve black grievances, the NWA chose to work behind the scenes in its fight for fair employment and decent housing.^^ To help make the transition from field to factory as smooth as possible many local organizations such as the NAACP, the Urban League, and the Cleveland Association of Colored Men often made attempts to instruct the black migrant in the informal ways of the North. The Cleveland Association of Colored Men not only offered assistance but they also sent black Clevelanders to many southern communities looking for "good" migrants. After apparently getting tired of using their own money for such endeavors, the CACM asked the Cleveland Chamber of Commerce to underwrite the costs, since after all they concluded, it was in the city's best interest. What constituted a "good" migrant is unknown, however, it was probably one who was cultured, wealthy, and educated. In defense of the CACM's classism, many members of the CACM were overly concerned about the prospect of diminishing patronage that would probably accompany a large influx of black southerners. While the CACM spoke for the black upper-class, many other

23 Kusmer, G h e tto, 255-57. 2'* Davis, Black Americans, 199; Kusmer, Ghetto, 256.

22 citizens had their own worries as well, primarily the legalization of Jim-Crow and hardening residential pattems.^s

Upon arriving in Cleveland the newcomers had little choice but to settle in Central, and by 1920 the community was the center of black life. It housed the churches, financial institutions, funeral homes, and fratemal orders of the community, and here is where the ghetto was bom. The boundaries of this black enclave stretched from Euclid on the north, the main thoroughfare of the city, to East 55th on the East, and on the South and West by the Cuyahoga River. During the era of the Great Migration the area West of East 55th St. and Euclid absorbed most of the newcomers. By the mid-1920s, a significant number of blacks had crossed the E. 55th boundary into predominantly white areas seeking better housing, yet for the overwhelming majority of southern migrants finding decent housing, even in Central, was difficult.^^

Since the migration exacerbated the existing housing shortage many migrants were forced into overcrowded and overpriced accommodations. In 1918 the Cleveland Chamber of Commerce reported that Afncan-Americans paid 65% more for comparable housing than whites. The average monthly rent for white workers in the city was $13.12, while for blacks it was an astonishing $22.50. Many of these overpriced units were former single­ family homes that had been converted by absentee landlords into smaller u n its. While the attitude of white real estate agents led to poor housing conditions, the attitude of many white employers hindered black economic mobility. Prior to WWl black Clevelanders did not actively participate in the expanding industrial economy because many employers subscribed to the commonly held belief that blacks were better suited for agricultural work. In addition, many industrial occupations required that one work as an

25 Ibid., .24, 27. 26 Ibid., 26; Kusmer, G h e tto, 126. 22 Kusmer, G h etto , 106.

23 apprentice prior to entering the field, and many black laborers were unable to find sponsors. On the eve of the war one-third of the city's black men worked in the domestic or personal service industries, and only 22% worked in the industrial sector. But by 1920, the black worker had made significant inroads as a result of war-time demand. Over two- thirds of the black male workforce found work in industry, while the number in the personal/domestic arena declined to 12% of the black male workforce. Although many of the gains were made in the unskilled trades, progress was also made in many of the semi­ skilled and skilled occupations.^* Accompanying the rise of black industrial opportunities was a noticeable decline in the black service trades. Specifically, black barbers and waiters experienced a dramatic decline. For instance, in 1910 there were 463 Afiican-Americans in the barbering trade, but ten years later that numbered had dwindled to 180. Likewise, black waiters numbered 1,930 in 1910 but by the beginning of the next decade there were only 420 black waiters in the ranks. This decline in black service industries was part of a wider trend in many urban areas that witnessed white clients take their business to many of the recently arrived immigrants from southern and eastern Europe. This phenomena forced many black service workers to look for other areas of employment, while it also persuaded them to look unfavorably upon newer blackmigration.^^

Ill While various residents discouraged migration to Cleveland, local black politicians encouraged the movement. Several aspiring politicians saw the great migration as the foundation for a black political base, most notably, Thomas Fleming, the first African- American to sit in Cleveland City Council. A long supporter of Republican politics, Fleming initially served as councilman-at-large from 1910-1911, but five years later he

28 Ibid., 190. 29 Ibid., 285-286.

24 capitalized on Cleveland’s expanding black community and won election as the 11th Ward councilman, which consisted of the entire Central area. At times Fleming posed as an independent politician, but the close political observer knew otherwise. He practiced clientist politics, a common form of black political participation throughout the formative years of black urbanization, which allowed Fleming to gain strong ties to the white power structure and in return he was allowed to appear as if he had considerable power. Fleming's ties to the machine surely confused some residents, particularly since he had established the all-black Twelfth Ward Republican Club and the Crispus Attucks Party largely out of protest. But the keen observer knew that these organizations were not meant to challenge the existing political structure, rather to give him an organizational base for his own career. 30

Because of Fleming's unwavering dedication to the local Republican party, the party bosses supported him throughout his tenure. They encouraged him to remain silent on sensitive racial issues, and it appears that he followed their orders. Throughout his term in City Council Fleming rarely sponsored race-based legislation, and generally only backed "safe" race issues such as the building of new recreational facilities in the Central area. Not once did Fleming introduce any meaningful piece of legislation designed to elevate the social, political, and economic needs of the black community.3 • In addition to his avoidance of race issues, Fleming also neglected the social conditions of his ward. In many ways the 11th Ward was the worst in the city and many of Fleming's critics attributed the deterioration of the Central area to his disinterest. One of Fleming's most harshest critics was Harry C. Smith, the outspoken editor of the Cleveland Gazette. Smith accurately accused Fleming of practicing clientist politics and remarked that

30 David Van Tassel and John Grabowski, eds.. The Encyclopedia of Cleveland H is to r y (Bloomington: University of Indiana Press, 1991), 408. 31 Ibid.

25 Fleming was the sole reason for the horrible conditions in Central. Smith was right. While Fleming was the councilman in ward 11, A1 "starlight" Boyd, the ward boss, was in true control. Boyd was a tavern owner whose bar served as a center for gambling and prostitution. Regardless of his involvement in illegal activities, Boyd, like other members of the black underworld, amassed quite a following as a result of his generosity in looking after the social and economic needs of his people. With Fleming the councilman and Boyd the boss, vice and crime flourished in Central, causing many to beheve that Fleming actively endorsed Boyd’s illegal activities. Fleming never denied the rumor, and on many occasions his actions did shield vice. During Fleming's tenure as chair of the Council Safety Committee (which oversaw the police and fire departments), he sponsored "order No. 73," a city ordinance requiring that the police department secure approval from the safety director before conducting vice raids. Public opinion knew that "Starlight" was behind this piece of legislation.^^

The year 1921 had special significance for Fleming. He narrowly won reelection and following the death of Boyd several months later he became the "boss" of Central. In exchange for petty prestige and power Fleming dehvered the black vote to the Republican party. But his thirst for power through the local political machine was a politically dysfunctional relationship for the black community, which generally received nothing, or at best very little in retum.^^

IV The emergence of the Universal Negro Improvement Association (UNIA) in Cleveland attempted to unify the constantly growing black population through its appeals of race nationalism. It appears that the Cleveland branch of the UNIA was established in 1919 or 1920, but since the sources are rather contradictory it is difficult to be certain. To

Call and Post 15 Oct 1966; Kusmer, G h etto , 146-7. Call and Post 22 Oct 1966.

26 attract followers in Cleveland, Marcus Mosiah Garvey made a number of visits before his deportation in 1924. One of his initial visits came in May 1920 when he spoke at Cory AME church, located in the heart of Central. According to FBI reports, Garvey's representative in Cleveland was a man named "Fuller" who was an "outspoken radical but very schooled in the art of camouflage." Fuller's so-called radicalism was nothing new to federal authorities. According to their reports he had been a member of the Industrial Workers of the World (IWW) in New York City but became inactive under the advice of Garvey. Garvey probably felt that as head of a UNIA branch Fuller would be under enough scrutiny, and therefore he did not need an IWW label as well. Although it is difficult to determine the size of the Cleveland branch, it is clear that Central residents were electrified with Garvey's program of racial uplift. Contemporary reports reveal that on one specific trip to Cleveland "hundreds of people paid an admission of fifty cents to be given an opportunity to enter the hall where Garvey was speaking." Not only did black residents pay the admission fee, they also supported Garvey's Black Star Line as they "bought freely of the investment." Without question, Garvey's visits were designed to attract members and followers into the local chapter.^4 By 1921 the Cleveland branch possessed a Liberty Hall, two homes, and an office, all located within the black enclave of Central. In 1922 Dr. Leroy Bundy assumed leadership of the Cleveland chapter. Bundy, a dentist, was the most prominent black leader in E. St. Louis on the eve of the bloody riot of 1917, and because of his political militancy he was scapegoated by the local press as the lone conspirator of the uprising. Although he was convicted of inciting a riot, the U.S. Supreme Court eventually reversed the conviction. Shortly thereafter Bundy moved to the less hostile environs of Cleveland's east

^‘*Robert Hill, Jr., ed.. The Marcus Garvey Universal Negro Improvement Association Papers ( Berkeley: University of California Press,) v.2, 341, v.3, 133. Hereafter cited as UNIA Papers.

27 side, and by August 1922, he became branch chief as well as one of Garvey's main assistants. But under Bundy’s leadership the chapter split into factions. The dispute centered on Bundy's alleged unauthorized use of chapter funds. Leveling the charges was the branch secretary Cora Annis. Early in 1923 Annis and others confronted Bundy about the spending and Bundy, apparently insulted, led a "veritable riot" against branch members. Months later at the UNIA's annual convention Annis publicly stated that Bundy was a "crook." This incident led to more dissension in the Cleveland branch and for years the local branch would be void of strong leadership. It is difficult to assess Garvey's influence in Cleveland because throughout the country the UNIA had many more followers than actual members. But, as black Clevelanders continued to face racial discrimination in every arena, Garvey's rhetoric was probably appealing to a significant number of them.^^

V By 1930 Cleveland's black population stood at 72, 269 or 8% of the city's overall population. This represented an increase of 108.3% from the previous decade. Unfortunately, this rapid population growth was not accompanied by the opening up of new areas of settlement for black homeowners. Rather, they were still largely confined to the Central area, placing a severe strain on the existing housing structure. Several factors contributed to the housing strain: unethical real-estate practices, intimidation and violence, and precarious employment. In addition, the lack of new home construction throughout Cleveland inhibited black residential mobility. Because of severe overcrowding black Clevelanders were continually subjected to fewer options on the housing market. The primary option was to rent a "kitchenette." Throughout the period the practice of

35 UNIA Papers, v.3, 166, v.4, 701, v.4, 704, v.5, 184; For more on Bundy’s days in East St. Louis consult: Elliot Rudwick, Race Riot at E. St. Louis: July 2, 1917 (Carbondaie, IL: Southern Illinois University Press).

28 subdividing continued unabated, and city inspectors ignored many of these units which violated virtually all of the city's building, health, and safety ordinances. Because of the housing demand, African-Americans who possessed the least amount of capital were forced to find shelter wherever possible. It was not uncommon to find Black Clevelanders residing in attics, cellars, closets, hallways, sheds, garages, and railroad boxcars. This is not to suggest that these dwellings characterized the typical housing pattern in Central, but nonetheless. Central residents faced a severe problem in securing adequate housin g.^^ Because of the overcrowded conditions in Central, its critics often labeled it a "slum." While this description was probably accurate, many failed to notice the obvious class stratification within the Central Avenue ghetto. The eastern half of the community was home to many upper-income residents, while the "jungle" or the western portion housed the poorer element, and as a result the western half was predominantly a slum and vice area. Along with overcrowding, many of its residents suffered from high illiteracy, rampant disease, rat infestion, and high infant mortality rates.^? When discussing the class stratification of the Central area one must be careful not to give the false impression that Central residents were found all along the economic ladder. Some were just poorer than others, but all were indeed trapped at the bottom of the economic ladder because of the uncertain employment situation that affected black Clevelanders. The Great Depression had a devastating impact on Cleveland’s economy, and the city's black residents were hit especially hard. Six months after the crash, 41,000 Clevelanders found themselves out of work and one year later that number would swell to approximately 100,000. While African-Americans made up only 10% of the available workers, they constituted 27% of the total unemployed. In some sections of the black

36 Ibid., 84-89. 37 Christopher Wye, "The New Deal and the Negro Community: Toward a Broader Conceptualization," in the Journal of American History v. 59 no. 3(1972):628.

29 community such as the "jungle" unemployment in the first year of the Depression stood at an unbehevable 90%, and in the broader black community approximately 50% of the black labor force was out of work.^* Cleveland's black labor force suffered the same indignities as other northern Blacks of being the "last-hired, first-fired." This not only led to a disproportionate number of layoffs but it also contributed to the "whitening" of many jobs. Even the proverbial "nigger-jobs," such as porter, servant, and domestic, increasingly became identified with white laborers. Thus, in the employment arena Cleveland's black community was hit extremely hard in two ways. First, they were especially vulnerable to layoffs because many of the industrial gains of World War I were made at the lower-rung of the industrial spectrum. And second, occupations in which African-Americans had previously dominated were becoming the preserve of the white worker, and as a result, unemployment, or at best occupational decline was virtually inevitable. During the early years of the depression those that were fortunate to hold jobs were largely employed at the semi-skilled level and below. Among black males 79% were below the semiskilled level, and of this 79% approximately two-thirds of those worked as unskilled laborers largely in Cleveland's iron and steel mills, while the other one-third held jobs in the servant class. For black women the situation was particularly bleak as they were consistently locked into domestic and personal service trades.^^ Another factor contributing to disproportionate layoffs and occupational decline was the practices of local labor unions which publicly admitted discriminating against Afirican- Americans. In the construction trades seven of the thirteen affiliates of the Cleveland Federation, such as the Carpenters', Steamfitters', Electricians', and Sheet Metal unions, did not admit black workers. In the manufacturing arena six of the eleven unions, most notably the Machinists and Iron and Steel Workers, did not allow their black brothers to

38 Wye, "Civil Rights", 123. 39 Wye, "Midwest," 114-9.

30 join their ranks either. The transportation and trade affiliates openly discriminated against black workers. Only one of the nine transportation affiliates allowed black admittance. Similarly, in the Trade sector 5 of the 6 labor organizations did not contain a single African- American. Only in the service trades were Afiican-American workers recognized in proportion to their numbers. Of the thirteen service affiliates only three openly forbade black membership. Clearly, in these times of economic distress many labor organizations "closed-ranks" and excluded black workers.'^® Because of the exclusionary pohcy of the AFL many black workers welcomed the formation of the Congress of Industrial Organizations (CIO). The black workforce reahzed that the success of the CIO would rest upon their participation. Simply put, if black workers weren't recruited the CIO would be ineffective. In Chris Wye's study of Cleveland's black community and organized labor from 1930 to 1945, he argues that black Cleveland's response to the CIO evolved through three stages. The initial reaction was "interest" and "skepticism"; in the latter part of the decade black workers were more receptive to the CIO and they joined in large numbers; finally, in the war years black workers retreated from the CIO as white workers began to exert pressure on union officials who had upgraded black workers.'** Wye notes that the early organizational drive of the CIO in Cleveland experienced mixed results. While blacks joined early on in large numbers, a significant portion of the black labor force was extremely skeptical. These early overtures primarily appealed to the younger generation of workers who were experiencing the inequities of the black employment situation for the first time. Older workers were somewhat more cautious.

'*0 Ibid., 168-9. '**Christopher Wye, "The Black Worker and the Labor Movement in Cleveland, 1930-1945: Forging a New Relationship," in Kenneth Kusmer, ed.. Black Communities and Urban Development in America , 1720-1990, (New York: Greenwood Press, 1991), v.6, 173.

3 1 Many had just gained a foothold and were unwilling to jeopardize their job by getting

involved in unionactivity."*2

During the military buildup prior to World War II the Cleveland CIO would have a great deal of success in attracting black workers, largely due to an intensified CIO campaign in the black community that addressed social issues as well as workplace concerns. For instance, CIO officials in Cleveland supported numerous black political endeavors, snch as pushing for a black appointee to the local housing board, advocating the need for better health and recreation facilities, and running black candidates for public office. This campaign led to rapid membership growth and by the early forties a majority of black workers in Cleveland were on CIO membership rolls.^^ "phe activities of the CIO inspired rival AFL affiliates to open their ranks to black workers. Between 1936-1942 the AFL competed for bargaining rights and members in the same industries where a mixture of the workforce was evident. In spite of these efforts the majority of AFL locals were still resistant to the idea of organizing black workers."*^ At the peak of war production the egalitarian policy of CIO locals was challenged by white workers who protested black advances in the workplace by staging "hate strikes." These activities tempered the CIOs appeal somewhat, and in response black unionists created several in-house committees such as the National Labor Council, Citizens Progressive League, and the Steelworkers Booster Club, to address racial issues within the CIO. By creating these committees black workers signaled to organized labor that they would hold the CIO responsible for its commitment to racial equality.*^ VI

^*2 Ibid., 175. ^3 Ibid., 177. Marshall F. Stevenson, "It Will Take More Than Official Pronouncement: The American Federation of Labor and the Black Worker, 1935-1955," unpublished paper, October 1996 45 Ibid., 81.

32 Although unemployment and overcrowding characterized the early years of the depression for black Clevelanders, many black citizens could at least express joy at the changes on the political front. With the conviction of Thomas Fleming on bribery charges, a new set of black politicians emerged on the scene who unlike Fleming would sponsor and secure passage of significant race-based legislation. As the black population exploded in the mid-1920s, Claybome George and E.J. Gregg joined Fleming in City Council in 1925 and 1927 respectively. The significance of George and Gregg lay not in the fact that they followed Fleming as the only black councilman, but that these two politicians campaigned as independents, ushering in a new era of black political activity. Gregg and George exhibited an attitude that illustrated to the Republican party that the black vote should not be taken for granted. Nonetheless, Fleming's accommodating presence and stature in the community negated any strength the two neophyte black councilmen may have possessed.**® The 1929 city elections had a tremendous impact on black political life in Cleveland. In this election the militant Leroy Bundy of the local UNIA chapter and Lawrence Payne were elected to city council. Bundy beat out Gregg in the 17th ward, while Bundy replaced the popular Fleming who was facing conviction on fraud charges. Payne was a former assistant police prosecutor and a devoted follower of Fleming. With the arrival of Bundy and Payne, along with the existing George, the black community could claim three members on Cleveland City Council, and these three politicians dominated black politics in Cleveland during the Depression and New Deal. One reason for the increased representation at the local level was that black voters actively participated in the political process. For instance, in 1930 62.4% of all eligible black voters were registered, compared to a city-wide figure of 50.2%. In addition, they

**® Kusmer, G h e tto , 271.

33 also had high levels of participation as well. Throughout the decade black political participation averaged a remarkable 70-75%, and by the end of the decade 87% of black voters were registered. Although black Cleveland was still a Republican stronghold the three neophyte black councilmen practiced independent pohtics. In 1930, the "black Triumvirate" (as the three were often labeled) illustrated to the larger community that they would not participate in the "go-along, to get-along" political philosophy of Ex-Councilman Thomas Fleming. In January of that year City Council, with bi-partisan support, voted to remove the City Manager from office. In voting for a successor, the twenty-two white councilmen split evenly along party lines with Payne, George, and Bundy abstaining, realizing they held the balance of power. Since they held the tie-breaking votes they did not hesitate to exploit this opportunity. In exchange for their support of the GOP nominee they demanded that African-Americans be allowed to work as interns in the School of Nursing at City Hospital, and that black Clevelanders have equal access to city employment. (It should be noted that these issues had been brought to the previous city manager, William Hopkins, who had failed to act on them.) Because of their strong outlook on black social, political, and economic advancement, they also secured passage of various ordinances outlawing Jim- Crow, and they continued the historic fight for greater recognition within the local Republican party. Unfortunately, the influence of these black councilmen was short-lived as the Democratic party took hold of the Mayor’s office on the eve of the New Deal.'^* Black Clevelanders struggling with housing, unemployment, and underemployment, greeted FDR's New Deal with great enthusiasm. In the 1932 Presidential election, Roosevelt garnered few votes in Central, but in the 1936 campaign all four of the predominantly black wards voted solidly for the New Deal, signaling their

Ibid., 84-5. *** Call and Post, 29 Oct 1966; Wye, "Midwest," 305.

34 farewell to the party of Lincoln. Much of this Democratic support was at the National level as many in the black community still voted Republican in local contests. Part of this attachment to local Republican politics can be attributed to the actions of Democratic Mayor, Ray T. Miller.^® Upon taking the Mayor's office in 1931 Miller immediately removed hundreds of unskilled black workers from the city payroll, while also casually removing the few black supervisors in City Hall as well. Fortunately, for black Clevelanders Miller’s tenure was short-lived with his defeat in 1933 by Harry E. Davis, whom the black community supported largely due to Miller's housecleaning of black municipal employees. Davis rewarded black electoral support by appointing black Republicans to significant positions. Most notably, Charles White became assistant Law Director, and Selmo Glenn became superintendent of city garbage coUection.^o After Davis' surprising defeat in the 1935 primary to rival Repubhcan Harold Burton, the black electorate quickly shifted support from Davis to Burton who would serve three terms as Mayor, largely due to black voters.^ 1

Due to the overwhelming support for the Republican party in black Cleveland, local Democrats experienced significant problems attracting black voters. The early influx of black Democrats began prior to the depression but the first black Democratic club was not established until 1930 when several supporters founded the Pioneer Democratic Club. Over the next several years the Democratic party would have marginal results in their efforts to recruit black support. The primary reason for the lack of Democratic success in attracting black voters was simply that the GOP machine was heavily entrenched throughout the four predominantly black wards. Because black support was vital to Republican domination, politicians constantly dispensed political patronage to black

Call and Post, 5 November 1966. 50 Weber, "Negro Voting," 26. 51 Ibid., 27; For more on Miller see: Ray T. Miller Papers, 1893-1966, WRHS.

35 supporters. Burton, Mayor from 1935-1941, continued the trend by making personal appearances at black gatherings and dispensing much-needed relief money to his black constituents, and in response the black community gave him its support. In Burton’s 1935 and 1937 campaigns he received 80% and 65% of the black vote respectively, and in both contests the black vote decided the victor. Black political activity of this sort forced many

politicians to recognize the pohtical power of collective blackv o t i n g . ^ ^

But Burton jeopardized his black support in 1938 by promoting the formation of a civil service system in Cleveland. This move angered the black community, which was hit hard by its implementation. Blacks overwhelmingly preferred patronage to civil service. Later in 1939 Burton fired hundreds of black workers prior to that years’ primary election. Nonetheless, black voters continued to vote the Republican ticket at the local level until 1941 when Frank Lausche captured the mayor’s seat.53 In City Council, after the initial ascendancy of Payne, George, and Bundy, the predominantly black wards of 11,12,17, and 18 managed to maintain black representation more often than not during the decade. In wards 11 and 17 black representation was constant, in ward 18 it received black presence after 1937, but ward 12 was operated and controlled by H. H. Finkle, a Russian Jew. Finkle had amassed such a following that he would virtually control Ward 12 politics into the 1940s.^‘^ Again, however. Republican loyalty at the local level did not necessarily translate into GOP support at the national level. Beginning in 1933 the black electorate used the technique of split-voting at the polls. In the 1932 election Herbert Hoover received 75.2% of the black vote, but four years later black voters were heavily immersed into the New Deal as they gave FDR 62.1% of their support.

Ibid., 30, 43; For additional information on Burton see: Harold H. Burton Papers, 1888-1964, WRHS. 53 Ibid., 31. 54 Ibid., 45, 28.

36 VII With political fortunes on the local scene weak, particularly in the area of patronage, many black residents began to look to the various New Deal programs for relief. Of all the New Deal programs established by Roosevelt, the Project Works Administration (PWA), and the various employment agencies such as the National Youth Administration (NYA), Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC), and the Works Progress Administration (WPA), most assisted Black Clevelanders. The PWA constructed low-income housing for black Clevelanders and the NY A, CCC, and WPA provided long overdue employment opportunities. By the mid-1930s, housing conditions in the Central area had reached epidemic proportions and many Central residents welcomed the construction of federally- funded housing projects. Initially, through the PWA and then the United States Housing Authority (USHA), the federal government sponsored the construction of seven housing projects in Cleveland, which contained a total of 7200 units. These accommodations were supposed to solve the long-standing problem of sub-standard housing in the black community, a problem which had recently intensified due to a pathetic slum-clearance program. This program, which had called for slum areas to be cleared and replaced with new housing, had disastrous effects, eliminating 10,000 units and displacing thousands of Central residents. But ironically, while the New Deal provided housing for the displaced residents, it actually intensified segregation and led to the spreading of slum conditions into new areas.5^ The initial two projects constructed with federal dollars were Cedar Central homes and Outhwaite Homes. Cedar Central was located in a small white enclave on the border of the Central area, while Outhwaite was located on E. 55th street in the heart of Central.

Wye, "Midwest," 79; Wye, "New Deal," 622; For Mayor Harold Burton's role in dispensing New Deal programs see: Charles Dunfee, Harold H. Burton, Mayor of Cleveland: the WPA Program, 1935-1937 Ph.D. Dissertation, Case Western Reserve University, 1975.

37 Although both apartment communities were constructed with public monies. Cedar Central was unofficially off-limits to black residents, making them only eligible for Outhwaite. To appear non-discriminatory Federal housing officials devised an elaborate plan to disguise their efforts at residential segregation. In the case of Outhwaite and Central, the authorities opened the two projects simultaneously, permitting blacks to enter only one. This gave the illusion that the black community was being treated equitably. To focus the black community's attention on Outhwaite, an elaborate ceremony was held, while no such activity was held for the opening of Cedar Central.56

The exclusion of African-Americans from Cedar-Central did not quench their desire for decent housing as many Central residents actively pursued apartments in Outhwaite. For many residents Outhwaite was a pure wonder, and they lived in anticipation of securing a unit. One former resident enjoyed Outhwaite because it provided "a sink with hot and cold running water," and a place where "you could wash clothes with a washing machine," and most important of all "an actual refrigerator." Moreover, Outhwaite provided "dependable warmth," and for this particular resident it was the first time his home had "two bedrooms and two beds."^^ This was a considerable difference from his prior accommodations, which he describes as a "rickety-old two-family house," where he relied upon a "coal stove and heated bricks" for warmth and all three members of his family "shared one bed." Initially constmcted for low-income tenants, the average occupant at Outhwaite was middle-class, who was attracted by its affordable rent. Lower income families were largely excluded because the rental policy of the PWA stipulated that monthly rents be set at an amount to defray the cost of construction. Thus, lower-class Central residents who fell victim to the city’s slum clearance program could not afford the units although they were

56 Ibid., 626. 57 Carl B. Stokes, Promises of Power (New York; Simon and Schuster, 1973), 25.

38 initially constructed for their benefit. This displacement caused the black poor to migrate from the lower-West Central area to the higher-income eastern portion of Central. Their arrival would unfortunately lead to the rapid deterioration of the "blue-stocking" district.^® As New Deal programs ironically intensified residential segregation and spread slum conditions, African-Americans in Northeast Ohio experienced mixed results in the employment arena. Many black Clevelanders secured employment with the PWA. But while jobs were gained, a decline in occupational status was one unfortunate result. Massive public works programs dropped black unemployment from 50% in 1932 to 30% during the second New Deal. However, while 16.7% of black Clevelanders on Public Works had been employed in skilled jobs prior to the Depression, only .06% held similar positions under the PWA. For black females the numbers were similar. On the eve of the great crash 20.4% worked in the skilled trades, but under the PWA that number dwindled to a minuscule .3%. This displacement of African-American women caused many to lose whatever foothold they possessed in the industrial sphere, and subsequently, many black women were forced to participate in the dreaded "slave market," where black women gathered on the sidewalk of a major intersection offering domestic services to white residents as they drove by.^^ With an unemployment rate that averaged 50% throughout the black community and 90% in some specific neighborhoods, it did not take long for frustration to build. Since many black citizens felt that the white community was the source of their problems, tensions were extremely high and Cleveland experienced frequent racial incidents during the Depression. For instance, on the evening of June 12, 1935, several black youths gathered at the 6000 block of Quincy Avenue and began firing off firecrackers. Trayon Tassei, a white waiter at a nearby Greek Restaurant, apparently upset at the noise, grabbed

58 Wye, "New Deal," 622-629. 59 Ibid., 633-6.

39 his pistol, and began shooting into the crowd. The bullet missed the boys in the street but it wounded Ulysses Brown, a seventeen year-old who was talking with a friend on a nearby porch. Infuriated at the shooting, a crowd assaulted the gunman, ransacked the restaurant, and then traveled further east and wrecked and looted another Greek eatery operated by the same individual. Following the incident the owner moved out of the area, apparently to rebuild elsewhere. Although no further disturbances were reported that night, tensions remained high for several days.®° Another incident occurred weeks later at 86th St. and Cedar Avenue. On the evening of July 16,1935, ten-year-old Juanita Lowe spotted a quarter on the ground in a nearby alley. As she stooped to pick it up, an older white man grabbed her arm, stating that the quarter was his. After a brief discussion concerning who was the rightful owner, the man then offered Juanita five dollars if she would go with him to his apartment, and then got violent when she refused. "I became afraid and tried to pull away, but he held on to me and tore my middy blouse." Shortly thereafter, Juanita spotted a young black man, who then chased and apprehended the assailant. Within minutes dozens of black Clevelanders severely beat Juanita’s attacker. Then, in an apparent attempt to imitate southern justice someone placed a rope around the man's neck with the intent on lynching the white man. The police came, however, and took Juanita's attacker to jail, and the crowd dispersed.^ * In the wake of these two incidents members of the black working- class were convinced more than ever of the need for organized protest. Although both of these disturbances were relatively minor, no one wanted a repeat of the recent Harlem uprising in Cleveland. VIII

Call and Post, 12 June 35. Call and Fast., 18 July 35.

40 Unable to completely rely upon the New Deal to alleviate their social and economic concerns many of the more politically active citizens looked inward and began initiating "don't buy" campaigns. These episodes of racial protest were designed to force white merchants operating in the black community to hire black employees. In many of the businesses located within Central black workers were noticeably absent, and with a considerable portion of the Central community on some form of relief, many began to protest. With this in mind John O. Holly founded the Future Outlook League (POL) in March of 1935 with the sole purpose of placing black workers in white-owned establishments. Prior to establishing the POL, Holly surveyed the Central area and discovered that of the approximately 3,000 businesses located in the black community, less than 100 carried blacks as employees, and many of these workers served principally as porters and janitors. Holly, a former postal clerk, held a deep passion for racial justice and this zeal enabled him to draw significant support from area residents. Holly's support came largely fi-om the ranks of the black working-class, which included many of the unemployed, members of the black left, and recently arrived southern migrants. Holly and his followers picketed and protested constantly, even at times disobeying court injunctions. Their open defiance of legal rulings and persistence in securing black employment caused some members of the local media to label the POL a "strong-arm organization," populated by a group of "thugs." This reputation led to numerous clashes with the police who freely displayed guns at POL rallies. Nonetheless, this contingent of black Clevelanders successfully negotiated black employment in white-owned stores.^^

Kim Phillips, Heaven Bound: Black Migration, Community, and Activism in Cleveland, 1915-1945 (Ph.D. Dissertation, Yale University, 1992), 242, 269-71; Also consult: Kenneth M. Zinz, The Future Outlook League of Cleveland: A Negro Protest Organization M.A. Thesis, Kent State University, 1973; Christopher G. Wye, "Merchants of Tomorrow: The Other Side of the Don't Spend Your Money Where You Can't Work Movement," 1975, unpublished manuscript in the Christopher G. Wye Papers, WRHS, Cleveland Press 17 March 1939, 7 July 1941;

4 1 In addition to negotiating for black employment in white-owned stores, the Future Outlook League also attempted to solve the housing crisis. The POL campaign for better housing arose in 1939 when Clarence L. Sharpe, housing chair for the League, requested a meeting with Central area landlords to secure a rent decrease and to push for significant building improvements. When the landlords refused Sharpe's request the POL called for a general rent strike effective July 1. Sharpe and Holly instructed all residents to withhold rent payments until improvements were made.^^

As the strike neared it was estimated that 10,000-15,000 black families were going to participate. Upon learning this, on the Friday before the strike. Mayor Burton intervened and called for an open hearing with landlord representatives, POL officials, and concerned citizens. Over three-hundred persons attended the hearing at City Hall. POL officials and supporters blamed the poor housing conditions in Central on negligent property owners and city officials who failed to enforce codes in the black community. Landlords quickly dismissed these accusations as mere falsehoods.^^ As tensions continued to escalate inside the Hall, Mayor Burton intervened once again and established a committee to resolve the dispute. On July 11 council chambers were filled once again as the special committee made its report. Prior to the recommendations of the committee Burton acknowledged to the crowd that the city's housing authority was the chief cause of the dispute. Another city official echoed Burton's comments and stated that the city was "lax" in its enforcement of the existing sanitation and building ordinances. After these comments, the committee proposed several measures to solve the problem. The most important proposal was rent reduction, ranging from a low of 6% to a high of 17%. Other proposals included stricter enforcement of codes and even

For more on Holly see; Booker Tall, John O. Holly, Jr., 1903-1974 (Cleveland: United States Postal Service, 1988). Call and Post, 6 July 39. 64 Ibid.

42 more drastic rent deductions for persons on relief. Because of the outpouring of support for the FOL and the committee's proposals, landlords and their representatives agreed to the recommendations.^^

Following the truce, "scores " of landlords notified FOL offices that they pledged to comply with the proposals. In the six months following over 3,000 units underwent repair and hundreds of families received rent reductions. While many other landlords refused to comply with the agreement League officials were nonetheless content with the progress and thus a rent strike was averted.®^ While the FOL's employment and housing campaigns were successful, their tactics were frowned upon by members of the black middle-class. Several clergical organizations such as the Methodist's Ministers' Union considered themselves the spokesman for the black middle-class and they did not condone the shock tactics of the FOL. Throughout the League's existence the ministers' union often referred to the League's activities as "foolish and fantastic." During one of the FOLs early employment battles against a local milk company that refused to employ black deliverymen, one of the black weeklies—apparently in disagreement with the FOL—headlined the dispute but portrayed the company in a favorable light. During the housing campaign class tensions were once again exacerbated when the ministers’ union issued a press release stating their position: "We the members of the Methodist Union of Cleveland and vicinity deplore the threatening effort of a strike as a means of securing an equitable adjustment of the problems of rents and living conditions effecting large numbers of tenants while we look with apprehension and disfavor upon the use of such

Call and Post, 13 July 39, 20 July 39. Ibid.; Charles H. Loeb, The Future is Yours:The History of The Future Outlook League (Cleveland: Future Outlook League, 1947), 63.

43 tactics we can not ignore the conditions as they currently exist.®^

FOL supporters did not let these attacks go unchallenged. For instance, when Mayor Burton suggested convening a summit with the black professional and business class concerning the housing situation, community activists exploded angrily. Leading the diatribe was Rev. Bill McKinney, pastor of the influential Antioch Baptist Church. McKinney argued that the so-called better class of black Clevelanders were unsympathetic to the housing needs of the poor and working classes. Commenting more directly on Burton's proposal was another participant who stated bluntly, "we want none of this type to represent us at any conference." The activities of the FOL gave many Central residents hope that organized protest was a valuable tool in securing racial equality. But, on the eve of World War II black Clevelanders were still suffering from widespread discrimination.^® IX While the Future Outlook League gained exposure for its successful battles against job and housing discrimination, these activities were the culmination of decades of protest. Although much of black protest in Cleveland prior to the 1930s was individual, sporadic, and unorganized, there was still a long tradition of battling injustice. The formation of the NAACP, the Cleveland Urban League, the Phyllis Wheatley Association, and the Universal Negro Improvement Association, gave Cleveland's blacks an institutional base. As conditions for the black working-class grew increasingly worse in the post-World War n period, the black community continued to create organizations and develop strategies to improve their plight on the East side of Cleveland.

Loeb, Future, p. 48; Call and Post, 20 July 39. Call and Post, 13 July 39; For more on McKinney see: Rev. Wade Hampton and Ruth McKinney Papers, WRHS.

44 CHAPTER 2

THE BLACK WORKING-CLASS RESPONSE TO THE INSTITUTIONALIZATION OF URBAN DISCRIMINATION, I940-I960

By 1940 Cleveland's black population stood at 88,000, or approximately 10% of the overall population. Over the course of the next two decades the number of black citizens virtually tripled as the second great migration increased the black population to 147,000 by 1950, 250,000 by 1960, making up 29% of Cleveland’s total population of 786,050. Combined with the dramatic population growth came political tremors in employment, education, housing, and police-community relations. The issues that confronted black Clevelanders from the great migration through the beginning of World War n became more entrenched over the course of the next two decades. I As the nation geared up for World War II many black citizens expressed optimism that their precarious employment situation would improve. Prior to Executive Order 8802, which outlawed employment discrimination in defense industries, a large number of black Clevelanders were still confined to WPA work, whose wages paled in comparison to the more profitable defense jobs. During the three years prior to FEPC establishment, discrimination by both management and labor organizations severely limited the return of African-Americans to the private sector. Those fortunate enough to gain industrial employment in the beginning stages of the conflict were limited to the traditional unskilled.

45 low-wage sector of the workforce. It would not be until 1942 that large numbers of black Clevelanders were once again ushered into the industrial arena. Because of continued discrimination in the labor market, the local NAACP played an active role, recruiting hundreds of Clevelanders to participate in A. Philip Randolph's proposed March on Washington. However, Roosevelt's last-minute Executive Order 8802 led Randolph to cancel the march.®^ Like thousands of African-American workers across the country black Clevelanders interpreted the order as a mandate to employ blacks. As industries in Northeast Ohio began to receive large defense orders many economists correctly predicted a labor shortage. In spite of 8802 many employers were often forced to consider black employment as a necessity, and because of these dynamics the black labor force approached full employment by late 1942. Yet, many of these industrial gains were made at the unskilled level.^° The predominant attitude held by white employers toward black workers was extremely negative. Many executives contended that blacks possessed limited capabilities that limited them to the lowest, dirtiest, and most dangerous jobs in the plant; that is, if employers hired them at all. And many employers chose not to hire African-Americans, virtually disregarding Order 8802. One of Cleveland's top war plants, the Jack and Heinz company, manufacturers of both aircraft and bomb apparatus, chose this option. Out of a workforce of 500 not a single employee was black. When questioned about their lawbreaking policy the owner responded, "I wouldn't work beside Negroes and I wouldn't ask my employees too either." Although this attitude prevailed among some plants, the majority of defense industries employed black workers. Between 1942 and May 1945 the

69 Phillips. "Heaven," 298; Wye, "Midwest," 142; Davis, "NAACP," 82. For a good history of this period in Cleveland see: Kenneth Wayne Rose, The Politics of Social Reform in Cleveland, 1945-1967: Civil Rights, Welfare Rights, and the Response of Civic Leaders, Ph.D. Dissertation, Case Western Reserve University, 1988. 70 Phillips, "Heaven," 299, 302.

46 percentage of blacks in the manufacturing trades increased from 3.6% to 11.2%. Employment in other firms led to a small minority of black workers holding skilled positions. Between 1942 and 1944 black men increased their representation in many skilled areas, and similarly, black women made progress as well, but their work frequently involved handling ammunition, gunpowder, and poisonous chemicals, extremely hazardous work.^ i War-time riots in Harlem in 1942 and Detroit in 1943 caused many other communities to express concern at intergroup relations. The continual influx of southern migrants, persistent job discrimination, poor housing, horrible police- community relations, and segregated schools all made these concerns worthwhile. Coupled with the return of many white GIs from the battlefield many northern cities were sitting on a racial powderkeg. In the midst of the Detroit uprising the Cleveland NAACP branch sent Rev. Bill McKinney and John O. HoUy to Detroit to investigate the causes of the disturbance. When they returned, they reported their findings and recommendations to Mayor Frank Lausche’s Committee on Democratic Practices (CDP) for the purpose of interracial understanding. Two years later Mayor Thomas Burke changed the name of the CDP to the Cleveland Community Relations Board (CRB) with the sole purpose of promoting "amicable relations among the racial and cultural groups within the community." The CRB was assigned the task of developing a broad educational program against racial injustice, along with working to resolve specific race-related issues. The founding of the CRB was historic in that it represented the first time in the nation's history that a city had "legally attempted to solve its racial difficulties." Although the CRB lacked any enforcement powers, it symbolized to many that Cleveland was "the best location in the Nation." By establishing the CRB,

Call and Post, 14 April 1945; Wye, "Midwest," 160.

47 city officials received nationwide recognition for its campaign against racial discrimination. To many outsiders the CRB was a preventive measure against racial intolerance, and in other cities similar committees were established in the aftermath of significant racial disturbances. Nonetheless, the CRB lacked authority in employment matters and thus they were unable to halt the widespread layoff of black Clevelanders that accompanied peacetime reconversion.^ 2

Prior to war's end many black leaders foresaw the upcoming layoffs and expressed concerns about the impending crisis. Without a state-wide or local fair employment bill in effect, many black residents did not have to be convinced that massive layoffs would result on the eve of V-J day. In the aftermath of three hundred black workers being dismissed at Fisher Brothers, a local automobile plant, one writer saw the dismissal "as a grim warning for what is in store for our people." He argued that "with more than 20,000 Negroes employed in industries in this area...," the problem is "immense." The writer emphasized that the close of the war for Democracy was no time to practice racial discrimination. Another journalist expressed the fear that the "temporary advantages" won during the period of national emergency would soon be "taken away." Both writers agreed that the black community must be thoroughly prepared for the transition. Part of this "transition" preparation was to fight and press for a local FEPC bill.^^ In the aftermath of World War H black migration from the South accelerated dramatically as migrants flocked to Cleveland seeking industrial opportunities. As the population grew, black middle-class residents stretched the boundaries of the black

Call and Post, 10 March 1945; Davis, "NAACP," 93. For a general history of the Community Relations Board consult their own published account; T a Promote Amicable Relations: Thirty Yeat History of the Cleveland Community Relations Board (Cleveland: The Board, 1975). ^3 Call and Post, 24 March 1945, 18 August 1945.

48 community by moving into neighboring areas such as Glenville, Mt. Pleasant, and Hough. This influx of middle-class blacks coincided with the rapid out-migration of white residents to the outlying suburbs. But the overwhelming majority of African-Americans still resided in and around Central. With the black population increasingly becoming a larger portion of the overall populace, the fifteen years after World War II would create a racial powderkeg that would explode in the 1960s. II The Call and Post captured the crisis in its January 6,1945, headline: "Lack of an Ohio FEPC bill dooms 245,000 workers." Few black laborers naively believed that employment gains during World War II came from Executive Order 8802 and the goodwill of white employers. Yet they were fully aware that without the Federal FEPC many blacks would still be excluded from industrial employment. Sensing the need for a state-wide agency. State Representative Howard Metzenbaum and others introduced FEPC legislation in the General Assembly in Columbus. The proposed bill outlawed discrimination in employment and also set up machinery to "single-out" and prosecute offenders. With the introduction of this bill black Clevelanders rejoiced but few foresaw the ensuing thirteen year battle for a statewide ordinance. While the state bill underwent filibustering, stalling, and other political tactics, black councUmembers in Cleveland introduced a city FEPC ordinance.^'* The movement for a local bill intensified with the immediate layoff of black workers less than one week after the close of the war. An estimated 6500 black workers were dismissed in the days following the Japanese surrender. In a survey of local defense industries, the Call and Post revealed that black workers were hardest hit at the Fisher bomber plant where 1000 African-Americans were immediately laid-off. An even worse

Call and Post, 17 February 1945.

49 situation was uncovered at the Standard Metal Company where out of 111 persons dismissed, 104 were black, 94 of whom were female. This pattern continued throughout the city, so that by ± e end of August approximately 6,000 black workers had lost their jobs. Even in the non-industrial sector black Clevelanders had trouble securing

employment. Throughout the city prominent department stores and clothing manufacturers openly barred black employment. Higbees, May, Halle's and Taylor's all excluded blacks hrom the shopping floor, relegating them to janitorial work. In addition, the two most popular clothing manufacturers, Richman Brothers and Dobeckman, did not employ black workers. One key factor in discrimination in the retail trades was the Cleveland Board of Education (CBE). The CBE participated in a distributive trades training program that aimed to find employment opportunities for black youth. For those interested in retail-type work federal funding would pay the cost of instruction. In this program a student would attend school for a half day and work the other half in participating stores. However, the selection of the students was left to the discretion of the stores, since the students were technically part-time employees. From the establishment of the program in 1937 until 1946 only two black students had been accepted, and both of these students worked for the same employer.^ 5 Clearly, racism and the lack of seniority severely curtailed employment opportunities. Throughout the summer of 1945 black Clevelanders turned to mass protest techniques to draw attention to their economic plight.^ ^ In early fall, 1,000 black Clevelanders gathered at the comer of E. 39th and Central to listen to labor activists discuss the problem of black unemployment. One speaker remarked that approximately 40% of the workers laid-off in the aircraft industries were African-American. Another criticized the US. government for the lack of federal

"Employment Data," Community Relations Board Files, Container 1/Folder 22, Cleveland Mayoral Papers, WRHS; For one Urban League official's battle against job discrimination see: Clifford E. Minton Papers, WRHS. Call and Post, 25 August 1945, 29 September 1945.

50 intervention, and argued that "starvation and unemployment" were tools of "fascists," and that Central residents should utilize whatever techniques were necessary in demanding governmental action. Shortly after the rally the Call and Post revealed that the local office of the United States Employment Service (USES) contributed to the employment problem by pidgin-holing black Clevelanders into unskilled positions regardless of skill level. Many skilled women were steered toward domestic work, while black men were encouraged to pursue unskilled, low-wage employment. Those that sought out the assistance of the USES had httle choice but to accept an offer arranged by the USES, since turning one down would make one ineligible for unemployment benefits. Not only was the USES guilty in steering blacks toward low-wage work, but it also encouraged job discrimination by accepting and filling orders from private employers marked "whites- only." Between February 1, 1946, and October 30, 1946, the USES received 61,110 requests for new workers; approximately 15,000 of these requests specified "white-only." Thus, roughly 25% of all job openings were closed to black workers. Furthermore, the figure of 25% must be considered a "minimum" since a great number of openings were discriminatory as well, just not explicitly stated. Because of community outrage against the USES, the agency created a special department to "eliminate job discrimination." But this department was only successful in overturning 219 of the previously specified 15,000 Jim- Crow requests. In a similar situation, the County Child Welfare Board, which also handled employee referrals, contacted 536 employers in 1946 regarding employment. Of the firms they contacted 239 were "known to hire white-only." If one needed proof of the widespread employment problem in Cleveland, then the case of Charles Anderson illustrates the plight of many black Clevelanders in securing employment in the immediate post World War U era.^^

Call and Post, 1 September 1945, 9 September 1945, 20 Oct 1945; "Employment

5 1 During World War II Anderson was employed as a skilled mill wright operator in a local aircraft plant. With reconversion he fell subject to the conversion layoffs. After being dismissed at the aircraft plant he approached six plants seeking employment and was rejected in all six. Initially, he approached Warner & Swasey where company officials informed him that although he was a drill-press operator during the war he was not qualified for their position. Next, he approached Gable Manufacturing Company after being notified of skilled openings. Upon his arrival he was told that the only available jobs were "outside." At Address Multigraphy Co. his services were flatly refused, and at Republic Steel where a severe labor shortage of skilled workers was widely known, he was told: "only outside work is available to you." Unable to land a job commensurate with his abilities, Anderson was forced to find temporary work at a local restaurant as a waiter. For a man with a wife and kids, wages earned from waiting tables did not remotely compare to earnings from defense work. Even the well-educated were not immune from blatant job discrimination. In one instance the Cleveland Urban League attempted to secure work for a "well qualified Negro graduate in engineering," but was unsuccessful. Of the 22 firms "employing men of his training," he was not considered by a single one. Fortunately, he was able to secure work with the Cleveland Transit System, which was forced to conform to non-discriminatory civil service regulations.^^ Episodes of employment discrimination such as Anderson’s unsuccessful quest galvanized the black community to press City Council for a local fair employment ordinance. Eight days after the open-air rally. Councilman Joseph Krizek proposed a bill that would make discrimination in employment punishable by a fine up to $200.00. Although this bill was weak in comparison to the state proposal, its introduction signaled to

Data," Community Relations Board Files, Container 1, Folder 22, C le v e la n d Mayoral Papers, W R H S . Call and Post, 13 October 1945.

52 the black community that city officials were actively working to rectify the problem. And while the local FEPC proposal was debated in the halls of City Council, the Future Outlook League kept the issue of job discrimination in the spotlight. In 1947 the FOL began one of its major protests when it was discovered that the city's largest banking institution, Cleveland Trust, did not permit blacks to work as clerks or tellers in any of its fifty-two branches. What specifically angered the FOL was that this policy extended to the Central area branches as well. According to the FOL approximately 90% of the East 55th St. branch's patrons were African-American and this refusal to employ blacks in white-collar positions even in the so-called "black branch " angered many. FOL officials met with bank executives to discuss the issue, but the bank stood firm in its policy. In response, the FOL called for a boycott of the East 55th St. branch asking depositors to withdraw all of their savings until the bank acquiesced to their demands. To circumvent the boycott, the defiant Cleveland Trust threatened to close the branch entirely, posing a potential inconvenience to the banks' customers by forcing many Central residents to travel to other sections of the city for banking services. After weeks of continued picketing the FOL agreed to call off its protest for two weeks to give the bank time to reevaluate its policy. At the end of the two week period, however, bank executives once again stood by their previous decision. Frustrated, the FOL issued a public statement to sum up their protest; "If Negroes are denied employment advancement in their own community, where else can they tum?"^^ Surprisingly, various leaders of the black community agreed with the policy of Cleveland Tmst. In a letter to the FOL refusing their demands, bank officials stated: "some of your own leaders say we are being fair to your people." One such individual was Rev. A. L. Roach who secretly communicated to bank officials that their policy was "sound,"

and Post, 18 October 1947.

53 and that the "better people" of the community did not approve or condone the roughhouse tactics of the FOL. Upon learning of Roach's involvement. Holly publicly labeled Roach "a belly-crawling, handkerchief-headed, conniving Uncle-Tom." While Roach and the conservative element were successful in convincing bank officials that their policy was just, the boycott still served notice that black Clevelanders were not content with their dire employment circumstances. It especially sent a signal to the Community Relations Board which unanimously voted to support a local FEPC bill currently held up in committee. The CRB's decision came on the heels of persistent action by the FOL, which boldly threatened to defy injunctions and continue picketing establishments that would not employ blacks.*® The CRB and Mayor Burke were not initial supporters of fair employment legislation. Instead, they preferred the method of voluntarism over legal enforcement. Many felt that by using moral persuasion and reason, local employers would hire black workers, and with the CRB acting as a liason between the private sector and the black community, defiant employers would eventually open up opportunities to blacks. Sponsored by the local chamber of commerce, which represented approximately 4400 local businesses, the voluntary plan was labeled "A Practical Approach to the Integration of Minority Group Employees in Business and Industry." The document offered several suggestions as to how best to implement the program. Among other things it suggested a precisely defined and explained company policy position on integration; the need to inform employees about desegregation plans; and most importantly, the need for patience. But overall, the Chamber of Commerce plan placed the responsibility for its successful implementation on the CEO. It specifically offered five suggestions to CEOs: 1. Make sure employees understand the desegregation plan.

*® Call and Post, 29 November 1947, I November 1947.

54 2. Revise employment procedures to eliminate any reference to race. 3. Delete from help wanted ads any discriminatory specifications. 4. Employ qualified black workers when vacancies occur. 5. Broadcast to the community your plan of action.* * Undoubtedly, the Chamber of Commerce placed the plan into the hands of employers who virtually ignored it. After much community agitation on January 30, 1950, the Cleveland City Council passed a fair employment ordinance. The law forbade employment and labor union discrimination and placed a $100.00 frne and ten days in jail for violators. Enforcement powers of the ordinance rested with an expanded CRB, with new appointees being selected by the Chamber of Commerce, the Mayor's office, and City Council. The passage of this legislation gave black Clevelanders the hope that their employment fortunes would improve.* 2 With anti-discrimination laws now on the books many Black Clevelanders were nevertheless skeptical about its effectiveness. Early on black Clevelanders saw little benefit in the FEPC ordinance and numerous complaints about continued job discrimination flooded into the offices of the Cleveland Urban League. Citizens asked CUL officials to investigate the CRB, which had spearheaded the fair employment mandate. In response, the CUL, which preferred to work within the system, cautioned its supporters about expecting too much, too soon. In a memorandum sent to various CUL supporters, it repeatedly made excuses for the CRB's lax enforcement of FEPC. Shelton Granger, Industrial Relations Director of the CUL, highlighted several points: (I) that the FEPC law had only been in effect one year; (2) that FEPC enforcement powers were not accompanied by a budget increase for the CRB; and (3) that the "confidentiality" of the CRBs activities

*' "Chamber of Commerce Co-Operative Employment Practices Plan, " Container 40, Folder I, Cleveland Urban League Papers, WRHS. *2 Call and Post, 4 February 1950, 4 March 1950.

55 limited the "direct knowledge of its methods." For these reasons. Granger wrote, an evaluation of the CRB's enforcement of FEPC would be "unfair."*^ Although black residents did not see instant results, the new law registered at least one significant gain for Black Clevelanders. In accordance with the municipal ordinance, the local office of the USES, which had historically practiced racial discrimination, ordered all of its personnel to cease handling Jim-Crow orders. This was significant because prior to the bill's passage approximately 25% of all job openings handled by the USES were closed to African-Americans. Now, all incoming orders were handled without regards to race.*'* Because many white employers still preferred white workers over African- Americans, the passage of the fair employment bill did not bring racial bias in hiring to an end, as many employers managed to circumvent the ordinance. To escape prosecution, many employers began utilizing private employment agencies, who would screen applicants and then refer "selected" persons to that specific employer. This tactic took the "burden " off the employer and placed it with the employment agency, who apparently stood outside the boundaries of the fair employment bill. As the popularity of these agencies grew, numerous advertisements describing their services appeared in the classified sections of local newspapers, while a significant amount of classified notices regarding employment vanished from the paper. In addition to these various maneuvers, local employers reportedly began to encourage friends and family of current employees to apply for positions.*^ Whereas some employers creatively defied the fair employment ordinance, others such as Sears and Cadillac Motor openly disregarded it. In the case of Sears, it did not

*3 "Memorandum," Container 40, Folder I, Cleveland Urban League Papers, WRHS. *'* Call and Post, 1 April 1950, 1 November 1947. 85 Call and Post, 8 April 1950.

56 employ a single Aftican-American salesperson; black employment was only visible in the store cafeteria. When questioned about Sears' exclusionary policy, W. M. Johnson, store manager, alluded to the alleged carefree lifestyle of African-Americans when he remarked: "you know we have to insist upon a very high moral standard for our employees." This comment infuriated local leaders who argued that his comments implied that black Clevelanders as a whole were immoral. Johnson responded by saying that he meant no harm because Sears would hire anyone who "presents himself properly. The experience of James Primes illustrates the situation at Cadillac Motor was somewhat more blatant. Primes, an accountant who previously worked at Firestone and Supreme Liberty, had come to Cleveland in search of employment. Upon being told that Cadillac had vacancies in its finance department. Primes mailed a letter outlining his qualifications, and expressing interest in the position. Days later Cadillac responded: "kindly apply for a interview as soon as possible....you are being considered. " After arriving at the persoimel department, company officials began "buck-passing," and informed him that the position had already been filled. A discussion ensued between Primes and the personnel officer, and in the course of the debate Primes was told that the company did not employ blacks in the finance department. After expressing disbelief. Primes stated his employment experience, after which he was told: "it isn't always what you know but who you know." In the age of FEPC, elaborate hiring schemes and open defiance of fair employment legislation made the hunt for private sector employment frustrating, and at times discouraging. Black women would have an especially difficult time acquiring gainful employment.*? Although many companies reluctantly hired black men, widespread discrimination against African-American women persisted. Lempco Products, which held a lucrative

Call and Post, 1 June 1952. and Post, 7 September 1952.

57 defense contract, emphatically refused to offer employment to black women. Madge Jackson, a local Urban League official, received many complaints against Lempco, and in response the Urban League launched an investigation into the complaints. When Jackson made several inquiries into the hiring polices of Lempco she was told by company officials: "this company does not employ black women." When Jackson brought up FEPC the Lempco officer stated, "we're hiring colored men but not colored women." Not satisfied with these responses a group of politically active black women went to the personnel office and requested applications. Instead of giving the women applications, a company official "jotted their names down on a pad," apparently signaling to the women that they would not even be remotely considered for employment.* ^ In many respects black Clevelanders expected the private sector to deny black employment, but when the public sector limited opportunities as well, that was difficult to swallow. In the area of public employment the opportunities for blacks were poor. Ironically, the City of Cleveland, which passed the fair employment ordinance did not offer many opportunities to black workers. According to one contemporary, the city’s record in hiring blacks was as "shameful" and disgraceful as the private sector. The overwhelming majority of black municipal workers were concentrated in the service department, where they worked as laborers, and only twenty-five of all black municipal employees were in skilled positions. The city's hiring policy contributed to this gross discrimination by allowing department heads to select employers from a pool of civil service takers. Thus, since a supervisor could choose anyone from that group of applicants, black Clevelanders were often neglected by the various department heads, none of whom were African- American. In a sense the city was dodging its own fair employment policy by constantly placing Afiican-American employees in the low-wage, unskilled, service department and

** Call and Post, 31 January 1953.

58 excluding them firom the better-paying white-collar occupations. In the age of FEPC many local employers either limited blacks to low-wage work, denied them employment altogether, or in some cases devised various techniques to limit their mobility. A discussion of the Yellow Cab Company of Cleveland will illustrate this point.*^ In Cleveland the Yellow Cab Company controlled basically all of the cab operations in the metropolitan area. It owned Zone Cab of which City Cab was a subsidiary. Traditionally, only black drivers were employed by City Cab, while their white counterparts were on the payroll of Zone Cab. But while they were employed by the same parent company, Yellow Cab, several noticeable restrictions were placed on City Cab drivers. Some notable discrepancies discovered by the Urban League were: (1) a black driver taking a patron to the airport could not pick up a passenger for the return trip; (2) at the train terminal. City Cabs were only allowed to pick up black passengers and were forbidden from waiting in the traditional taxi-stand; (3) cab stands outside of black neighborhoods were off-limits to black drivers; (4) all cab requests were handled through a centralized switchboard where operators would routinely ask callers if a black driver was acceptable; (5) in slack periods white drivers were given preference, leaving black drivers the "unwanted" orders; and finally, (6) the facilities at Yellow Cab headquarters were Jim- Crowed.^o To help alleviate these injustices black drivers appealed to the CUL for assistance. After a thorough investigation by CUL officials (which included several meetings with the CRB and Yellow Cab) they assisted the black drivers in filing a complaint under the provisions of the local FEPC ordinance. Next, the CRB acted upon the grievance by negotiating a settlement with Yellow Cab that called for the immediate integration of Yellow

Call and Post, 17 June 1950. 90 "Cab Situation," Container 40, Folder 1, Cleveland Urban League Papers, WRHS.

59 Cab. Initially, six black drivers were transferred to Yellow Cab without any restrictions. However, it was soon discovered that the black pioneers were still confined to black neighborhoods. Situations like this caused the black community to express mix feelings about FEPC.^ * Local employers were not alone in hindering black economic advancement. Many of the local labor unions discriminated against black workers as well. Theodore Pinkston for instance, was a skilled electrician who over the course of five years had been denied admittance to Local 38 of the International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers (IBEW). His exclusion prevented him fi-om gaining meaningful work in the Cleveland area, since he was forced to accept jobs that the union turned down, or work on specific projects that posed little threat to the union's membership. In each case the union would issue a "special permit" giving non-union members permission to complete the job. Nonetheless, these permits did not allow one to earn a decent wage. When questioned about the absence of black members, union officials rarely offered excuses, although they often tumed down numerous requests to meet with black leaders to work out a solution. In addition. Local 38 also refused to meet with Mayor Burke and the CRB who on several occasions proposed compromises. Because Local 38 continued to ignore community leaders and city officials, the CRB reluctantly agreed to stage its first public hearing on Local 38's policy of exclusion. In calling for hearings, Frank Baldau, director of the CRB, surprised many community activists who often labeled the CRB "traditional" and "cautious" in its efforts to prosecute equal employment offenders. These initial hearings were critical because in actuality the Cleveland fair employment bill was on trial. Many were eager to see whether or not the existing bill had any "teeth" or if it needed strengthening.^^

91 Ibid. 92 Call and Post, 2 June 1956; "December Report of the Executive Director," Community Relations Board Files, Container 1, Folder 12, Anthony J.Celebreeze Papers, WRHS;

60 At the hearing it was revealed that Pinkston and other black electricians were misled into believing that if they paid union dues and met the requisite qualifications they would be admitted. However, after paying the initiation fee and passing the electrical worker examination, Pinkston and others were still denied membership. After Pinkston's testimony Local 38 had little defense. The CRB found Local 38 guilty of discrimination

and ordered the Union to integrate its ranks immediately. Unfortunately, it would take much more than a $100.00 fine to force Local 38 to admit blacks. George Meany, AFL- CIO President, learned of the months-long controversy and eventually demanded that Local 38 integrate or face suspension from the International Brotherhood. Meany's actions forced the Local to admit black electricians, but Pinkston was not included in the inaugural

class of black members. Although Pinkston initiated the investigation and had spent approximately 6-7 years attempting to join the union, he did not gain admittance. Union officials claim that he "flunked" the electrical workers exam. This surprised many of his supporters because Pinkston had previously passed two similar exams and it was well- known amongst his contemporaries that he was more than qualified. But Local 38 was

insistent in denying Pinkston Union privileges because he initiated the controversy.^^

The policies of the local school board contributed to enabling virtually all of Cleveland's craft unions to either severely limit or to completely deny membership to African-Americans. In the Post World War II era the Cleveland Public School system operated the Cleveland Trade School (CTS) to prepare city youth for skilled positions. Operated with tax dollars CTS was actually controlled by the city's craft unions, which provided instructors and donated equipment, but more importantly controlled admission policies, to the detriment of the city's black community. In a sense local craft unions operated CTS as if it were a "private club." For a student to attend CTS she/he had to gain

Call and Post, 6 July 1957.

6 1 sponsorship from a local union, and with many unions void of black members it was virtually impossible for black youth to acquire apprenticeship training in trades such as plumbing, electricity, and roofing.^^

The battle to end discrimination at CTS began in the immediate post-War period when the local NAACP and Urban League became aware of its policies and vigorously protested to School Board officials. CTS emphatically denied any wrongdoing, and attempted to shift the blame to the labor unions who controlled admissions: "we don't supply the students, we merely train them. " The protest was resurrected in the mid-1950s after the Pinkston case revealed that Local 38 played an influential role in CTS admissions. While protests were levied, school board members argued that their policy was covered under the Smith-Hughes Act, a federal law that provided funds to local school boards for apprenticeship training. The act also mandated, according to school officials, that applicants for admission be "screened" and "approved" by a committee of employers and union representatives.^^ Although the official policy concurred with the federal act, many school board members agreed, somewhat reluctantly, that they were indirecdy supporting racial discrimination. To resolve the situation board members discussed a number of proposals. One member suggested: "we could set up separate classes for them Negroes," while others pushed for a compromise that would have permitted a handful of black youths to enter the school while still leaving admissions in the hands of the unions. While both of these measures gained reasonable support from board members, Ralph Findlay, School Board President, introduced and secured a strong resolution stating that unless local unions

Call and Post, 16 June 1956, 23 June 1956. 95 Call and Post, 17 May 1947, 23 June 1956.

62 affiliated with CTS ceased their discriminatory practices, the board would revoke their agreement and expel them from CTS.^^ Findlay's resolution served notice to other board officials that the current policy needed revising. A new policy was put into effect with the opening of Cleveland's new trade school. Max Hayes in 1957. Local labor unions still had significant ties to the school, but now non-union employers were allowed to send and enroll students to the school as well. This represented a sharp departure from the old policy, which had limited sponsors to union members only. Proponents of the new agreement believed that arrangement would effectively stem the tide of discrimination in admissions at CTS, but black Clevelanders did not rejoice. Many remarked that discrimination would still exist because "the bill didn't go far enough. " The trade school crisis was only one of several issues that strained the relationship between the black community and the local school system. School overcrowding and teacher segregation were other points of conflict for black parents and Cleveland school officials in the fifteen year period after World War Ill The root of the problem between school administrators and the black community was blatant racial discrimination. With a continual influx of southerners black and white, the overall school population increased. Consequently, increasing reports of racism were heard throughout the black community, and black parents would voice a number of grievances. One area of concern was the deliberate flunking of black students because a particular teacher or principal did not believe in promoting them until they reached a certain age. At one specific elementary school there was an unwritten policy that did not allow any child to finish before the age of fourteen. To accomplish this, many children were kept in kindergarten as long as three years. Another complaint dealt with the use of black students

Call and Post, 21 July 1956. 97 Call and Post, 20 April 1957.

63 as "errand-boys." It was reported that several white teachers consistently sent black students on errands to banks and downtown stores during school time to conduct their personal business. Similarly, one Central area elementary school excused students from school on assigned days to "scour the neighborhood for waste paper." At times, black students fell victim to psychological abuse as well. Kindergarten and first-grade students at one school were afraid to pass a particular room in the basement because they had been told that it was a "dungeon." Since the bathroom was located next to the alleged "dungeon," many children refused to use the bathroom and either had to hold their urine for the entire day or relieve themselves in another fashion. In addition, one Principal constantly frightened her students by telling them that the school was planning to implement a "chain- gang" for poorly behaving students. In addition to these abusive actions, the practice of labeling black students "slow" became widespread as many black children were steered toward classes for the mentally retarded. While all of these incidents angered black parents, the more serious issue was school overcrowding.^* The dramatic influx of black students into the district after 1945 caused schools to become increasingly congested. The policy of neighborhood schools left many Central area schools extremely overcrowded while leaving many West side schools virtually free from congestion. The neighborhood school policy required each student to attend the school in his or her neighborhood. Between 1952 and 1960 black school enrollment grew a remarkable 79%, from 9,283 in 1952, to 16,670 in 1960. This dramatic increase

Call and Post, 17 March 1951; For two studies that look at the effect of the migration on the Cleveland School System see: Alonzo Gaskell Grace, The E ffect of Negro Migration on the Cleveland Public School System Ph.D. dissertation. Case Western Reserve University, 1932; Carolyn Jefferson, An Historical Analysis of the Relationship between the Great Migration and the Administrative Policies and Practices of Racial Isolation in the Cleveland Public Schools, 1920-1940 Ph.D. Dissertation, Cleveland State University, 1991; For a rather general study see: Ted Ptacek, A Comprehensive Study of Growth and Development of the Cleveland, Ohio, Public School System M.S. Thesis, Kansas State University, 1834.

64 compared to a relatively small 27% increase on the white West side. The Rutherford B. Hayes school at E. 40th and Central had an enrollment of 1395 during the 1948-49 school year, yet it was only built to accommodate 800 students. In an even worse scenario. Kinsman school, which had a normal capacity of 750, was teaching 1635 students daily. The preceding statistics give one a sense of the rapid growth of the school system in predominantly black areas.^^ Overcrowding produced a two-fold problem of safety and exclusion, and many black parents expressed concern on both counts. In several of the overcrowded schools, city building commissioners had failed to make frequent inspections, leaving the building code unenforced. Similarly, the city's fire prevention bureau chief made only one inspection per academic year. This neglect by city officials resurrected talk of the 1909 Lakeview school fire, which had claimed the lives of 174 teachers and students. The majority of the overcrowded schools were hazardous to the health of the students, but black students had little choice but to attend. •“O Overcrowded conditions also locked many 5-6 year-olds out of kindergarten classes. One area school had a waiting list of 40 students for its kindergarten classes, and the kindergarten teachers at this particular school were forced to accept classes with as many as sixty students. Prior to the 1953-54 school year, seventeen area kindergartens had cut-off registration due to lack of space, leaving many youngsters out of school. At Doan elementary sixty-eight neighborhood children were forced to wait to the next academic year for a slot in the schools' kindergarten classes. Although kindergarten was not required by state law, all educators agreed that it was a critical part of the overall educational

99 Call and Post, 12 February 1949; Raymond Jirran, Cleveland and the Negro Following World War II (Ph.D. Dissertation, Kent State University, 1973), 275. 100 Call and Post 12 February 1949.

65 development. Overcrowding denied a significant number of black children the opportunity. 10 • Overcrowding led not only to large classrooms, but also to teacher fatigue and school congestion. Many teachers had no rest periods, very little private classroom space, and no conference room or break room. They were also forced to teach in every possible open-space, regardless of its original intent. Many of the schools held classes in gyms, auditoriums, cafeterias, and windowless basements, forcing teachers to devise various strategies of instruction. One situation became so dire that the library was converted into classroom space, while the library books were moved to a storage room. Finally, at several elementary schools, fifth and sixth grade students were sent to a nearby junior high for specific classes. These youngsters missed a significant amount of instruction commuting back and forth. School overcrowding also led to a decrease in various educational and recreational opportunities. One principal instructed parents not to send their children to school early because the playground was too congested and she feared that children might injure themselves while playing. Time for recess and gym classes was also severely cut because of the number of students requiring recreation. Inside the classroom, classes at some elementary schools approached 60 students. This inevitably led to a reduced amount of teacher-student contact, sometimes desperately needed in many of the

Central area s c h o o l s .

Because of the continued protest by black parents concerning the existing conditions, numerous solutions were proposed to combat the problem: new school construction, temporary facilities, and relay classes. Beginning in 1952 the Cleveland School Board made plans to relieve school overcrowding through a system-wide program of new school construction. Much of the construction between 1952 and 1960 consisted of

Call and Post, 9 December 1953. Call and Post, 1 January 1949.

66 two-story, eighteen room elementary schools. By 1957-58 approximately 70% of new school construction funds were earmarked for black neighborhoods. But with school administrators only begiiming construction during the heart of the crisis, many officials were forced to rent additional space from private owners. Initially, many private owners were eager to rent facilities for the benefit of black children, but the lackadaisical attitude of school board ofGcials caused many owners to rescind their offers. For example. Dr. Carl Kent offered his private nursery for rent but school officials were slow in responding. Kent stated that he "waited a month," and after "hearing nothing from the Board," he made other plans for the facility. Trustees at St. Mark's church also notified the Board about potential space for temporary classrooms, but several board members questioned the advisabUity of spending the necessary money required to convert the church basement into classroom space. This contingent argued that it was not financially feasible for the Board to spend several thousand dollars on a temporary facility. The third and final resolution offered by concerned interests was half-day programs or "relay classes." Though favored by Board members as a solution, this system brought extreme criticism from black parents. Beginning in the mid-1950s the Cleveland Public Schools set up "relay" to relieve overcrowding. This plan allowed students to attend class in shifts with one half attending class in the morning, the other half in the afternoon, allowing students only 3.5 hours of schooling a day. In the fall of 1958, thirty-four classes were on the relay program, all on the predominantly black East side, and many critics predicted that by the second semester that number would reach ninety. Parents overwhelmingly detested the system and voiced a number of complaints. At a Doan elementary school open-house (where a significant amount of the students were on

Call and Post, 19 November 1958, 10 September 1958. 104 Qciii Qfid Post, 20 October 1956, 27 October 1956.

67 "relay,") parents barraged school administrators with a series of questions and concerns. They were eager to know the expectations of "relay" children, the comparative efficiency of "relay" children to the regular school population, and most importantly, how long would "relay" go on? While school officials were unable to answer the first two questions, they addressed the last concern by responding: "we try to work it out so a child is only on relay one semester." Although that may have been the intent of school officials, it was logistically impossible because of the constant in-migration and the board's refusal to change their policy, thus "relay" classes were in effect during the next d e c a d e . IV By far the most serious problem affecting black Clevelanders in the post-World War n period was the search for decent housing. Though the parameters of the black enclave had been stretched to the east and southeast by the black middle class into Hough, Glenville, and Mt. Pleasant, the continual influx of southern migrants into Cleveland's East side exacerbated an already poor situation. No new significant housing construction had taken place in the inner-city between 1926 and 1947. This was part of a national trend caused by the Depression that virtually halted new home construction. Although it picked up by 1940, the nation's entry into World War U once again halted the building of new homes. Therefore, southern migrants entered into many urban areas with an essentially fixed supply of housing. In Central 75% or more of the homes had been built before 1919. In comparison, the inner-ring suburbs of Euclid, Cleveland Heights, Shaker, and Parma only had at the most 25% of their homes built prior to 1919. To illustrate the critical housing shortage the Cleveland Urban League issued a report outlining the housing needs of the metropolitan area. The report claimed that new housing needs ranged from 60,000- 90,000 new units, while approximately 45,000 existing structures, classified as

105 Call and Post, 20 October 1956.

68 substandard by the 1940 census required demolition. CUL officials believed that public housing was the answer to the crises, but Ohio municipalities were not eligible for public housing dollars because Ohio tax law did not permit exemptions for pubhc housing. To make matters worse, neither the state, nor the city of Cleveland had appropriated funds for public housing. 106

During this period only one home had been built in the area and almost all of the existing housing was sub-standard and dilapidated. Contributing to the problem was that city housing officials rarely, if ever, enforced housing codes in black areas. The Central area possessed more housing violations than any other area in the city, often leading in violations for fire hazards and unsanitary conditions. City officials however, often turned a deaf ear to the complaints, This neglect was exposed when the Call and Post revealed that several families in the Central area were without gas, water, and a toilet for weeks. To circumvent the housing code this particular owner installed an open-air toilet, claiming that he was not in violation. Apparently he wasn't, because after investigating the complaint. Chief Housing Inspector Edward HoUaran refused to take action, causing community leaders to accuse Hollaran of accepting payoffs. In another scenario, a local landlord built five homemade "shacks," and rented them out although the units were without indoor plumbing. This self- styled housing project was all too typical as devious landowners designed a variety of housing schemes to make money off the housing shortage. These poorly and hastily

106 "Non-White Residential Patterns," Container I, Folder 9,Anthony J. Celebreeze Papers, WRHS; "Housing Crises," Container 2, Folder 44, Cleveland Mayoral Papers, WRHS; For a good discussion of black residential mobility in Cleveland see: Julie Boatwright Wilson, Cleveland: The Expansion of a Metropolitan Area and its Ghettos (Cambridge, MA: Malcom Weiner Center for Social Policy, John F. Kennedy School of Government, HArvard University, 1991); Robert Hodgart, The Expansion of the Negro Ghetto in Cities of the Northern United States: A Case Study of Cleveland, Ohio and University Park, Pennsylvania M.A. Thesis, Pennsylvania State University, 1968. >07 Call and Post, 22 March 1947. 5 April 1947.

69 constructed "shantytowns" were firetraps. During the first six weeks of 1949, slum dwellings claimed twelve victims, leaving approximately sixty families homeless. The previous year forty-eight Central residents died in fires. According to Rre Captain Clarence Hall, black Clevelanders were susceptible to fire because of dilapidated buildings, out-dated electrical wiring, and overcrowding. But although Hall knew the dangers of these units, he often failed to inspect them. This non-enforcement of the law hastened the decline of living conditions for the black poor and working-class. While some resided in dwellings resembling "shantytowns," others were forced to lodge wherever possible. Remarkably, one Afiican-American family of twelve lived in a garage for twelve years. Although it was foul-smelling, cramped, and without sanitation facilities, Mr. and Mrs. Ethel Sharpe managed to raise ten children in this makeshift home. Similarly, Heiuy Farmer and his family lived without gas, water, electricity, sanitation, and insulation in a neighbor's garage. These conditions made the winter months particularly harsh, so the Farmers' relied upon a small coal stove to heat the fifteen square foot room. The experiences of Sharpe and Farmer illustrate how difficult it was to acquire decent housing, and what makes it more disgusting is that both men were employed full-time. White landlords contributed to the housing dilemma by charging exorbitant rents for sub-standard accommodations. In the area further east of Central, for example, a four-to- five room unit rented for $55 a month, while at East 37th St. and Central a similar unit listed for $110.00 monthly. After the Office of Price Adjustment (OPA) rent controls were lifted in the Summer of 1947 rents in Central increased an average of 15-50%, and in some cases 100-150%. The former increases were well above and beyond the suggested OP A

Call and Post 31 May 1947, 12 February 1949 Call and Post, 3 October 1953, 26 July 1947.

70 rate increase of 15%, and the later adjustments were often used as a vehicle to evict the unwanted.* In the wake of OPA repeal panic gripped Central residents who were getting a double-dose of bad luck, loss of defense jobs and the loosening of rent controls. Many residents foresaw the situation and prepared for "all out exploitation." Several days after the death of OPA, landlords in charge of rooming houses and kitchenettes doubled their rents overnight. Left with little choice but to pay the increased rents or face eviction, many black residents attempted to pay the requested rate. But with rates increasing as much as 50%, thousands of financially disadvantaged citizens faced eviction. Within one week after OPA repealment 4,000 eviction notices were on file in City Hall. Wholesale evictions were supported by a city ordinance which stipulated that owners may evict families within three days for any of the following reasons: "want house for personal use, behind in rent, or nuisance complaint." An overwhelming majority of the evictions were filed as nuisance complaints, generally coming in the aftermath of a landlord-tenant dispute over a rent increase. If the tenant did not agree to the rent increase then the landlord would file an eviction notice.* * * One Central area tenant, William Jones, of E. East 51st St. reported that he and his wife were charged an extra .50 a week "to play our radio." To avoid evictions some black tenants took in boarder roomers, hoping to pocket some additional income. However, when landlords realized this racket they increased their rents even more. One landlord bitterly complained that one of his tenants had the audacity to sub-lease his property. This racket did not last very long because landlords were quick to evict if they located a subleaser or a lodger. * * ^

**® Call and Post, 6 July 1946. * * * Call and Post, 13 July 1946, 5 July 1946. **2 William J. Jones to Mayor Thomas Burke, Container 2, Folder 44, Cleveland Mayoral Papers, WRHS.

7 1 Many black families avoided eviction by paying whatever amount the landlord requested, and landlords did not hesitate to exploit black residents. In a letter to Mayor Burke, Lucille Green stated that her rent had increased dramatically to the extent that she wanted to know if the increase was in fact "legal"? She further wrote that although her husband paid the increase, the owner was not satisfied, "he say he want us to move out," so he could rent the place to someone else, presumably at a higher rate. The most infamous landlord of the period was Charles Rubenstein, a de-barred Jewish lawyer who dodged health and building codes by illegally converting single-dwelling homes into fourteen-room tenements. In one of Rubenstein's homes, fourteen couples occupied a two-story home with no fire escape, no central heating, and faulty water and gas lines. The conversion of these homes was a direct violation of FHA regulations and it also defied local ordinances as well. Rubenstein was enticed into the illegal real-estate maneuvers because of the enormous profits to be made. Prior to converting one of his single-family homes Rubenstein collected $100.00 monthly; after conversion he raked in $1000.00 a month, an increase of 1000%.’13 Shady practices such as Rubenstein's were commonplace throughout the black community, but several other rackets were popular as well. In some cases area landlords began requesting a year's rent in advance, in addition to the usual monthly rent. The year's rent was not applied to the monthly charge. It was simply held as a "deposit" against damage. Another popular racket saw landlords make huge sums of money renting property they did not own or by renting non-existing units. For example, one so-called agent would scan the local newspaper for rental units, pose as the owner, and deceive unsuspecting residents out of their money. In a similar case, one "realtor" managed to rent units that did not exist such as alleys, open-air driveways, and empty lots. The majority of black

••3 Lucille Green to Mayor Thomas Burke, Container 2, Folder 44, Cleveland Mayoral Papers, WRHS. Call and Post, 22 February 1947.

72 homeowners seeking decent accommodations generally avoided these rackets, yet in their search for decent housing outside of Central black homebuyers and renters were often met with hostility.**'* New home construction picked up in the late 1940s-early 1950s, but little of this construction took place in the inner-city. Of ±e 150,000 units built during the 1950s, 127,000, or 85% of the total units built were located in the suburbs, and many white families jumped at the opportunity to escape the central city. This development was aided by the generous loan policies of the federal government. The Veterans Administration allowed veterans to purchase a home with virtually no down payment, while the Federal Housing Authority enabled non-veterans to buy with as little as a 3% down payment. With liberal assistance whites retreated en masse, causing practically every suburb to experience growth. Between 1950 and 1960 eight suburban cities doubled their population. On the white west side Brooklyn increased its population by 552%, Parma-141%, and Fairview Park-123%. Likewise the east side suburbs grew as well, Lyndhurst-100%, Mayfield Heights-193%, South Euclid-166%, and Maple-181%. Also, the old main-line suburbs of Cleveland Heights and Shaker experienced moderate growth as well.* *^ But the rapid development of suburbs in Cleveland virtually excluded the African- American homeowner. While favorable loan rates were extended to the white community, these rates were off-limits to blacks because FHA administrators were leery about guaranteeing loans to prospective black homebuyers. Thus, black residents were often forced to deal with bankers requesting 20-25% down payments for a 15-20 year term. While this tactic excluded the large majority of blacks who could afford homes, other tactics and techniques were used to keep African-Americans locked out of these areas.* *&

**‘*C a// and Post, 25 October 1947, 6 December 1947, 31 October 1953. * *^ Thomas Bier, "Housing Dynamics in the Cleveland Area, 1950-2000," in Metropolitan Reader, 244-250. **6 "Report of the Executive Director, Summer 1954," Community Relations

73 Restrictive covenants, red-lining, exclusionary zoning, and outright intimidation and violence, all kept blacks out of the newer developments, forcing the majority of qualified black homebuyers to settle in some of the newer areas of black settlement such as Mt. Pleasant, Glenville, and Hough. Throughout the immediate Post-War period many suburban communities utilized the restrictive covenant to exclude black Clevelanders. This pattern was established by the powerful Van Swerigen brothers, a prominent name in Cleveland real-estate circles. The Van Swerigen family owned vast amounts of land throughout the suburban East side, and many of their properties came attached with racially exclusive covenants. This policy effectively excluded African-American settlement in the commuitities of Shaker Heights, Beechwood, University Heights, and Warrensville. In several other communities developed by the Van Swerigens, clauses were placed in deeds to prevent black homeowners from entering the area. The most common form of covenant stated that the owner of said property was not to "sell" or "rent" their home to a black family, although exceptions were made for "domestic servants, chauffeurs, and gardeners" employed by the owner. Another popular deed stipulated that the land could not be sold, rented, or transferred without the consent of the grantor "unless five abutting or adjoining sublet owners should agree." In other areas outside of the Van Swerigen influence, general "agreements" took the place of legal covenants. In one Cleveland Heights community, would-be homebuyers had to gain "approval" from other members in the community for the sale to be complete. * * ? Along with restrictive covenants, banking policies kept blacks out of suburban areas. Many community activists accused the financial community of operating by an

Board Files, Container 1, Folder 12, Celebreeze Papers, WRHS. Call and Post, 26 April 1947, 22 November 1947, II October 1952; two favorable studies that exalt the Van Swerigens are: Joseph G. Blake, The Van Swerigen Developments in Cleveland (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame, 1968); Ian S. Haberman, The Van Sweringens of Cleveland: The Biography of an Empire (Cleveland: Western Reserve Historical Society, 1979).

74 unwritten rule that denied mortgages to black Clevelanders wishing to settle in white areas. Critics argued that the mighty Cleveland Trust Bank was behind the "agreement," with the assistance of several other banks. When questioned about their alleged discriminatory policies, bank officials saw no wrongdoing. They unanimously agreed that red-lining was "undemocratic," but it was nevertheless their policy because most of their clients were white and they feared reprisals from depositors. This attitude on the part of the banking community denied many Black GIs low-interest loans backed by the FHA and VA, and subsequently they were forced to settle in Central, but the relatively few who did manage to get housing in the suburbs were often met with tricky housing codes and hostility. • • * In one of the more absurd episodes of the period, residents of Woodmere Village (a white "shantytown") devised a series of laws to make life difficult for black residents. After unsuccessfully attempting to "bum" down the home of one black homeowner they drafted an elaborate new building code, solely designed to force the existing black families out of the community. The code stipulated that the foundation of the home had to be an exact size; not an inch over or the house would be condemned. Another portion of the ordinance specified that home construction could not be stopped for more than forty-eight hours, this often posed a severe problem since union workers did not work on weekends, and non-union crews would not undertake projects because of the risk of bad weather. Subsequently, this clause effectively "stymied" home construction in Woodmere Village. The irony of this code is that many of the white residents lived in "garages and reconverted chicken shacks," yet they forbade black home construction.* Although poor conditions, high rents, and suburban exclusion were the dominant features of the housing dynamic between 1940 and 1960, this period was also characterized by black middle-class inroads into previously all-white neighborhoods. Because of the

**8 Call and Post, 29 November 1947. * * *^ Call and Post, 8 May 1948.

75 expanded industrial opportunities ushered in by World War H, many black families were able to realize their dream of owning their own home; and many preferred to purchase their property outside of the traditional black enclave, choosing to relocate to Glenville, Hough, Mt. Pleasant, and Lee-Kinsman. With the rapid migration of black families into these areas, many of these communities would undergo an "overnight" transformation between 1940 and 1960, with much of the transition occurring in the 1950s. For example, in 1940 Glenville's black population represented 1.5% of the ward's population twenty years later that number was 63%. A similar trend occurred in Hough, which saw a change of 1% to 62%. Likewise Lee-Kinsman increased from 20% to 58%, and Mt. Pleasant from 8.3% to

55%.i20

Although the racial compositions of these communities changed virtually "overnight," at times white homeowners fought the black invasion. But, unlike in Detroit and Chicago, housing concerns on Cleveland's East side did not produce racial conflict. White homeowners in Cleveland had one noticeable advantage over residents in these other cities, the Cuyahoga River, which not only divided the city between East and West, but also divided the city along racial lines. Throughout Cleveland's history the West Side has always been 95-100% white, while the lower East side since the late 19th century has been home to black Cleveland. Thus, residents who desired not to live next to, or around blacks, could easily retreat across the Cuyahoga. In comparison, white Detroiters and Chicagoans could only move further and further away from the black community, but inevitably black homeowners in these cities were eventually drawn to all-white communities in search for better housing. Beginning in the late 1940s, black Cleveland began to extend outward from the pre­ war concentration in Central to the white working-class communities of Glenville and

'20 "Changes in the Concentration of the Non-White Population," Container 1, Folder 9, Anthony J. Celebreeze Papers, WRHS.

76 Hough to the east, and Mt. Pleasant and Kinsman, which lay to the south. Like in many other northern urban communities, white Clevelanders were threatened at the sight of potential black homebuyers whom they immediately associated with declining property values, crime, and vagrancy. Although many white residents fled to the all-white West side, many chose to remain and fight for their community. Those who did remain often resorted to violence and intimidation in an effort to keep black families out of the community. One of the most publicized incidents of the period occurred in July of 1953 in the white-working class community of Mt. Pleasant, after Wendall Stewart and his wife moved into a home at 15508 Talford Ave. After Stewart purchased the home, all hell broke loose after his neighbors realized that he was black. Two days after Stewart arrived at the property to make moving arrangements, angry residents immediately called a meeting under the auspices of the newly-formed Lee-Heights Civic Council (LHCC), a so-called neighborhood improvement association. With over five-hundred concerned citizens in attendance angry homeowners strategized for three hours in an attempt to come up with some type of plan to force the Stewarts from their $19,500 home. Days later, Stewart was "deluged" with phone calls at his job and former home, with callers threatening bodily harm if he attempted to occupy the property. In spite of these threats, Stewart moved in. • 21 After Stewart defied the threats, the representatives of the LHCC tried a more logical approach by offering to purchase the home, an offer he quickly refused. When word of the Stewart situation reached the black community, fair-housing advocates immediately offered their support. This group, which included the local NAACP, Future Outlook League, and the always outspoken Rev. Bill McKirmey, pledged generous financial and legal assistance to the Stewarts. But more important than money or legal advice, these leaders demanded

•2* Call and Post, 18 July 1953.

77 that the CRB and Mayor Burke protect the Stewarts and their home. Burke immediately responded to their request by securing 24-hour police protection for the Stewarts, but he was somewhat hesitant in issuing a public statement on the matter. Initially, Burke attempted to let the CRB handle the matter, but days later he was forced to respond. At an open meeting with members of the LHCC, Burke informed them that there was no "legal weapon" that could force the Stewart family from the home. With this statement the CRB and Burke ended their discussion with the LHCC, but the 24-hour police protection

remained for several d a y s . *22 Things were quiet at 15508 Talford until November 9th when black paint was thrown on the side of the home, while a brick was hurled through the large plateglass window overlooking the front yard. This incident brought an immediate storm of protest from black leaders who once again demanded police protection for the Stewarts, also insisting that all necessary steps be taken to apprehend the vandals. Nonetheless, a militant faction of concerned black citizens were ready to take the law into their own hands. Several concerned citizens began discussing the possibility of an armed citizens patrol to stand watch over the property at night. Along these same lines, others called for violent attacks against white homeowners in the area in an act of retaliation.

These threats were not carried out and there was no further trouble on T a lfo rd .* ^3 Throughout the remainder of the decade similar acts of violence occurred. When Nan Jones, an automobile worker, purchased a home on E. East 84th St. in the Kinsman area she made history as the first African-American on the block. But shortly after moving in her windows were busted out by neighboring whites who obviously objected to her presence. In Glenville, Kelly Cloud of East 109th St. was the object of intimidation as well when vandals smeared shoe polish on the side of the house after throwing rocks through

*22 Call and Post, 25 July 1953. *23 Call and Post, 14 November 1953; "Minutes of the December Meeting of the Community Relations Board," Community Relations Board Files, Container 1, Folder 11, Anthony J. Celebreeze Papers.

78 her window. A year and a half later vandals struck again as the $40,000 home of Anthony Pegg was bombed while under construction. This act did not surprise Pegg because early in the process of construction newly installed windows were broken out.*^4 What angered black leaders in spite of aU the vandalism was the apparent lackadaisical attitude of law enforcement toward these heinous acts. Between 1952 and 1954 not a single suspect was apprehended by police although approximately twelve instances of violence against black homes had been reported to authorities. In that same period eight other black homes were bombed, yet the perpetrators were never captured. Black councilman especially expressed outrage at the scores of unsolved cases. Leading the attack was Charles Carr and Ted Williams, who "demanded" that the Safety Department take steps to solve the crises. Williams stated vehemently that African-Americans "must be allowed to leave the slums and live in their new homes without the fear of being maimed or killed by some vicious cowards who strike under cover of darkness." Carr was much more explicit in pointing the finger at the Police persormel who had let black homes go unprotected. "If these officers were out trying to stop vandalism," then the "paint- smearing, rock throwing, and bombing would end at once," he stated. The Local NAACP Youth Council also joined in on the verbal attacks. In a resolution submitted to city officials the Youth Council cited the police department's "negligence," "apathy," and "utter disregard" for the lives of black Clevelanders, and demanded that a productive effort to apprehend the individuals begin "immediately," and continue until those responsible were "brought to justice." ^25

Black homeowners were not the only object of white hatred, black-owned construction companies also felt the hostility expressed by fearful white homeowners. In

Call and Post, 8 August 1953, 12 June 1954, 7 January 1956. 125 Call and Post, 12 June 1954; "A Resolution," Container 55, Folder 6, Cleveland NAACP Papers , W RHS.

79 one particular instance, a black-owned firm had plumbing construction cut, wiring ripped out, windows broken, and paint smeared in four homes under construction in areas undergoing racial transition. Whether or not these homes were intended for black or white buyers is unknown, but in this period of hysteria any black presence smelled of "invasion." It appears that this particular company experienced hostility at several of their sites because police protection was always evident whenever this particular company had homes under construction. Both black and white homeowners blamed the tensions on the tactics of local realtors who encouraged blockbusting. Area realtors were well aware that white residents were susceptible to racial appeals concerning potential black neighbors, and they did not hesitate to exploit. In the phenomena of block-busting, realtors would warn the homeowner of a threatened black takeover of the conununity, make a remark concerning property values, entice the owner to sell low, and subsequently force the black homeseeker to purchase high. In many of these transitional communities, realtors envisioned an opportunity for a tremendous amount of buying and selling. In some cases where white Clevelanders did not object to black neighbors, the pressure exerted by realtors often led one to sell. When the CRB got word of these activities they held a conference with officials from the Cleveland State Real Estate Board concerning the tactics, but Real Estate officials adjourned the meeting by informing the CRB that there was not a single provision under the law for calling a halt to the actions of their realtors, thus "blockbusting" continued unabated. *^7

Accompanying the influx of African-Americans into many of these communities was a marked increase in interracial tension. In the summer of 1954 several incidents

"Summer 1954 Report of the Executive Director," Community Relations Board Files, Container 1, Folder II, Anthony J. Celebreeze Papers. *27 "Summer 1955 Report of the Executive Director," Community Relations Board Files, Container I, Folder 12, Anthony J. Celebreeze Papers.

80 occurred at swimming pools and parks in areas that were undergoing a residential racial transition. The Glenview pool situation is illustrative. On June 27,1954 the son of Mr. and Mrs. Kelly Cloud went to the neighborhood park for swimming and bike-riding. Shortly after he arrived he was pulled from his bicycle and assaulted by a group of white youths. While Cloud was under attack, another black man was chased from the swimming pool by a similar group who apparently objected to black use of city property. In response to the incidents, the local NAACP conducted a "wade-in" to integrate the de-facto segregated pool, and as they entered the water white swimmers exited the pool shouting racial slurs and other derogatory remarks. Further problems were averted when Mayor Celebreeze responded to black demands and instructed the Parks commissioner to assign black workers toG l e n v i e w . * 28

Since the movement into Mt. Pleasant, Glenville, and Kinsman was primarily a middle-class phenomena, the African-American working poor were forced to seek housing in Hough (which bordered Central) because of a massive urban renewal program that actually displaced thousands, making the already tenuous housing situation more acute. Prior to black residential movement into Central the large majority of the housing stock consisted of single and two-family dwellings. But with the large influx of black renters, a substantial amount of multi-family housing units such as apartments, rooming houses, and hotels, began popping up in order to accommodate a population that was growing at the rate of 1500-2(XX) southern migrants a month. In the first six years of the decade there was a rapid conversion of single and two-family units into multi-family occupancy. While older apartment buildings were converted into smaller Uving-units, large apartment units instantly became hotel-type facilities. Without question, after these housing schemes were implemented, slum conditions became inevitable. As in pre-World War II Central, many of

128 "Swimming Pool Situation," Community Relations Board Files, Container 1, Folder 7, Anthony J. Celebreeze Papers.

8 1 these units were converted illegally but city inspectors still failed to enforce code regulations. As conditions in Hough became overcrowded, members of the black working-class began to agitate for publich o u s i n g . * 2 9

Although the Cleveland Metropolitan Housing Authority (CMHA) built two public- housing facilities in 1940, one on each side of the Cuyahoga, these facilities were not nearly enough to handle a rapidly growing black population. While many housing experts saw public housing as the solution to a housing crises, politicians, home constructions companies, and homeowner associations effectively mobilized to contain it throughout the 1950s. When Cleveland launched its urban renewal in the 1950s, public housing advocates reacted joyously, believing that urban renewal would solve the crises. Cleveland's plan for urban redevelopment was simple: by invoking eminent domain, the city purchased "blighted" property, and the land was cleared for redevelopment and either sold to private developers, or kept for a public need such as housing. Housing advocates supported the program but realized that it would take years to implement. As a result they constantly pressed the city administration on the immediate need for public housing to relieve overcrowding and to solve the newly created problem of displacement. In response to the crisis, the city planning board submitted a proposal for a 900 unit interracial public housing complex in the Lee-Seville area. This proposal was immediately met with resistance from white councilmen, white area residents, and token black homeowners in the area. Leading the fight against the development was 30th ward councilman Ernest Atkinson, a clever politician with a history of racial prejudice. In 1951 Atkinson gained fame when he fought for a rezoning measure that would have permitted the construction of a $3.5 million dollar facility on land previously designated for

>29 "Hough Area Tensions," Community Relations Board Files, Container 1, Folder 13, Anthony J. Celebreeze Papers. >30 Grabowski and Van Tassel, "Encyclopedia," xlvi, 1.

82 residential use. Critics argued that he took up the measure to create a "buffer-zone" between white residents and black homeowners who were just beginning to settle in his ward. Although the measure was defeated, Atkinson emerged as a protector of the white homeowner. Atkinson seized on this popularity and spearheaded the fight against the proposed development. ^ ^ * Throughout the controversy Atkinson consistently denied race as a factor in his campaign to ban public housing firom his ward, but through the actions of his constituents and other anti-public housing supporters, the public knew otherwise. The Call and Post reported that at several area meetings on the issue, Atkinson was heard to remark "keep them out at any cost." Along with Atkinson, area construction firms and slum realtors also opposed the measure. The Cleveland Home Builder’s Association aligned with Atkinson because the construction of the complex was supposed to be performed by an out-of-town company. Also, Stanley Oklystn, Central Area Properties owner, came out publicly against it because the proposed development posed a serious threat to his slum operation. Cementing the anti-housing coalition were a handful of black homeowners, led by Henry Hawk, point man on matters colored for the Lee Heights Civic Council. At a public hearing on the issue Hawk stated before hundreds that there was no need for public housing in Cleveland. "The people in public housing make too much money to be there. I made mine the hard way there are folks in those housing projects who own yachts. You get sick and you can't get a doctor; the project folks have them alf'^^z This formidable coalition was organized as well as determined to keep the unit on the drawing board, and their next step was to take the battle to City Hall. Once Atkinson brought the matter to city council he found an instant ally in 14th ward Councilman Bronis Klementowicz who immediately introduced a set of proposals

Call and Post 28 June 1952. •32 Call and Post, 10 January 1953.

83 aimed at containing or outlawing public housing. Klementowicz's first bill explicitly stated that public housing could only be limited to "slum areas." After conferring with other politicians on the matter a substitute proposal, or "compromise" measure was introduced. This bill sought to require City Council's approval on all questions regarding the constmction of public housing. Pro-public housing supporters viewed this proposal as a threat to the future of low-income housing in Cleveland because it was general practice for council members to go along with another member when one objected to some facility or change in his/her ward. Klementowicz's proposal was attacked vigorously by both the local NAACP and Central area councilpersons. The NAACP issued a statement labeling it a "sabotage," and a "smokescreen" to kill all public housing in Cleveland. It further asked supporters to attend the upcoming council meeting to defeat the bill. Since the measure was introduced by a democrat. Central area councilman were further incensed. Ward 17 councilperson Jean Capers characterized the measure as "unfair," and "dangerous." Joseph Horowitz of Ward 10 stated that the measure made him "upset." Ward 17 representative Charles Carr was not threatened by the bill: "I doubt very much that such a thing could be legal." Newly elected 17th ward councilman Ted Williams called the opposition to public housing "inhuman," suggesting that they were playing a game of "political football" with the lives and welfare of Cleveland's black poor and working-class. Dissenting somewhat from this firebrand of criticism was John Kellogg, black Republican councilman from the Central area. Kellogg played partisan politics with the issue and felt that Democratic Mayor Thomas Burke was possibly engineering the whole crises for pohtical gain. "Maybe it is the administration (referring to Burke) throwing a sop to the people of the Lee Road area." Community leaders also offered opinions. Local NAACP head Charles Lucas warned democratic officials that their reactions were being watched carefully. "The administration (Burke) is not getting itself out of hot water by 'going along' with any effort to kill public

84 housing in this city. We will not stand for any appeasement of housing foes, and we, at least, are not afraid to let the people be heard." ‘33 Over four hundred persons packed city council chambers on the evening of Monday, February 9, 1953, for the scheduled vote on the measure. In attendance were Mayor Burke, CMHA director Ernest Bohn, and James Lister, head of the city planning board, who picked the site for the development. Prior to the vote both supporters and foes of the bill squared off one last time. But notably silent during the debate was Burke, Bohn, and Lister, who were the initial sponsors of the project. Their silence was costly as the bill passed by the narrow margin of 17-15, and as the clerk read the results, Henry Hawk, black area homeowner, "led the cheering of the Lee Roaders." In the next week's issue of the Call and Post, editor William O. Walker unleashed a diatribe against Burke for his silence. Under the headline "The Cat got his Tongue," Walker asked his readers: "Was the Mayor afraid of the small forces in ward 30 who led the attack? Does the Mayor have another plan of approach not yet revealed to the public? Basically is Mayor Burke for or against low-cost housing?" But Walker left room for Burke to right the wrong: "He can veto this whole mess and let the people decide by ballot." ‘34 Nonetheless, Burke did not take Walker's suggestion and since all proposals required the approval of City Council, public housing was effectively limited to slum areas throughout the decade. V For fifteen years after World War II relations between the Cleveland Police Department and the black community deteriorated rapidly. There were three main causes that led to this decline: ( 1) police brutality, (2) the Cleveland Police Department's insensitivity in dealing with black residents, and (3) the absence of high-ranking blacks on

‘33 Call and Post, 31 January 1953, 7 February 1953. ‘34 Call and Post, 14 February 1953.

85 the force. By 1945 the CPD operated under a "double-standard" of law enforcement: one set of rules applied to the black community, another set of regulations for the white community. Black residents hroughout the period levied numerous complaints ranging from illegal search and seizure to the more serious charge of police homicide. The unofficial policy of ±e CPD was to patrol the Central area, harassing residents, and making indiscriminate arrests. It was not uncommon for white officers to ride through area streets provoking black residents. One woman complained that police officials spoke angrily to her because she didn't move fast enough when ordered to move her car. Apparently, she parked her car in front of her own driveway because an unknown car occupied it. When she informed the officers about the situation, they proceeded to write her a ticket, tow her car, and carry her to Police headquarters instead of locating the owner of the automobile illegally parked in her driveway. • 35

Other citizens protested the indiscriminate arrests in the Central area. Vice squads routinely held raids in Central area bars and poolrooms, often asking iimocent patrons insulting questions such as: "How long since you were last arrested for prostitution?" Under the guise of "looking for criminals," members of the vice squad often made wholesale arrests of innocent persons in the course of these raids. Ironically, many of these establishments were white-owned, but owners were rarely taken into custody as white officers preferred to arrest black patrons. One councilman, Charles Carr, angrily accused the various vice units of playing a game of "see-saw": "One week they come into councilman Williams' ward to see how many arrests they can make and the next week they come into my ward to see if they can make more arrests." Carr suggested that if the police were sincere in finding criminals, then they should only arrest those guilty

*35 Call and Post, 27 September 1958; For more on law enforcement in Cleveland see: Richard Watson, Law Enforcement in the Cleveland Metropolitan Area: A Study in Intergovernmental Relations Ph.D. Dissertation, University of Michigan, 1959.

86 persons, and if bars were operating as hangouts for criminals, "close the bars." *36 What angered community leaders even more was that although the CPD made indiscriminate arrests, it allowed a variety of criminal activity to go uninterrupted. Numbers, bootleggers, and prostitution were almost always allowed to operate with little interference. When citizens complained about these activities, the response from the Police Department was

"notoriouslyslow." *37

During the late 1940s and early 1950s the Cleveland Patrolmen killed an average of five to ten African-Americans a year. Between November 11, 1948, and April 12, 1950, the CPD conducted a reign of terror on the black community, killing eight Afirican- American men. One of the early incidents occurred when a mentally ill man, Jeffie Moore, was arrested for jaywalking. While police were attempting to handcuff Moore he broke loose but was fatally shot in the back. A similar scenario involved Earl Kennedy who was shot and killed while leaving the scene of an apparent petty theft. He had stolen a pair of shoes. Unlike Moore and Kennedy, Lewis Hadded was killed by "mistake" on 11 June 1950 by police officers who were attempting to shoot an alleged bank robber. All of these incidents angered black citizens, but in the spring of 1950 tensions between the CPD and the black community reached a fever pitch as two black men were killed in less than forty- eight hours. In the first instance William Butler was killed by officers who were "suspicious" of him. According to NAACP records, Butler was "unarmed and had no record other than traffic violations." That next evening Richard Gregory was shot and killed by two white officers after resisting arrest. *38 But while many argued that these "justifiable homicides" were in actuality murders, they found it more difficult to accept the routine, day-to-day physical harassment by white officers. In one incident a fifty-five year

*36 Call and Post, 20 November 1954. *37 Ibid. *38 "Stop Police Brutality Now," Conatiner 54, Folder 3, Cleveland NAACP P a p e r s.

87 old Central resident was killed after he phoned the police for assistance. Adolphus French notified the police after apprehending two men whom he accused of stealing his car. French held the men at gunpoint but as the Police arrived they opened fire on him without telling him to drop his weapon nor did they identify themselves as policemen. Though the shooting was labeled "justified" by the County Prosecutor, many in the black community labeled it an "outright murder." Shootings such as the French incident angered black residents, but beatings were more common. For example, in one two-week period a fifteen year-old boy lost his vision after an encounter with the police, and the skull of another black citizen was fractured after encounters with white officers.^^9

Black police officers also felt the wrath of their fellow brothers in blue, and the case of Lynn Coleman illustrates that black officers often were not above police brutality. In 1946 Coleman and his partner Henry McKay went to EucUd Beach Park to protect CORE workers who were attempting to integrate the whites-only park. Private guards hired by the park beat and harassed CORE members, shot Coleman, even after he identified himself as a police officer, and severely beat McKay. Following the incident Police officials suspended Coleman for "conduct unbecoming an officer," while choosing not to prosecute the security guards. The Police Department's callous disrespect for black citizens during the period was intensified by the absence of an internal race relations program and the absence of high- ranking black officers on the force. Because of the deteriorating relationship between the black community and Cleveland's finest. Community Relations Board Director Frank Baldau suggested to Police officials that the department could benefit from a training program on interracial and intergroup relations. Baldau argued that this training was

Call and Post, 9 August 1958, 23 August 1958. •“♦O Call and Post, 28 September 1946; Marvin Dulaney, Black Police In America (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1996),70.

88 necessary to give both experienced and rookie policemen a "deep understanding of human relations problems." In response, the top-brass of the Police Department refused the suggestion, stating that the instructors in charge of rookie and in-service training "seemed not to be interested in the matter." Whether or not these "sensitivity" sessions would have made a positive impact on police-community relations is unknown, but with their refusal to implement the program a double-standard of law enforcement remained the unwritten rule. In addition to the lack of a human relations program, the Cleveland Police Department also lacked a significant number of black officers. In 1952 there were 1800 officers on the force, only 4.3% of these patrolmen were black. Of this 4.3% there was only one Sergeant, and not a single Captain. In answering critics about the lack of black officers in upper-level positions. Police Chief Matowitz stated: "The Negro policeman has not advanced because he has not prepared for the tests." He further stated that since the competition was "keen," it was necessary that black officers "study and keep up with the current information." The attitudes expressed by the Police Chief explain why a black officer was not promoted to Sergeant until 1949, and the first black Captain on the force was not given that rank until 1960. Compounding the problem was that once black officers joined the force they often received differential treatment in assignments. Of the approximately fifty blacks on the force in 1953 there were no black officers on the mounted, police, or motorcycle detail, and in some areas they were not permitted in squad cars, nor were they assigned to vice squads in the Central area. These dynamics between the CPD and the black community would become more the rule that the exception in the next decade.

Frank Baldau to Safety Director McCormick, Police Chief Story to Safety Director McCormick, Container 1, Folder 7, Community Relations Board Papers, WRHS. >42 Dulaney, Black Police, 117, 120.

89 VI While much of the period was characterized by black Clevelanders devising strategies to resist job discrimination, de-facto school segregation, poor housing, and police brutality, they also asserted themselves in the political sphere as well. Throughout the twenty-year period black voters focused the majority of their political efforts on gaining increased representation in City Council. At the beginning of the decade, the local Republican party still had a hold on the local scene. All three black councilmen were staunch Republicans. Harold Gassaway represented the 18th ward, Augustus Parker was the councilman in the 11th ward, and William O. Walker, editor and publisher of the influential Call and represented the 17th ward, and all three were devoted to machine- free politics, while pushing race-less legislation in city council. For instance, Parker's tenure was characterized by several significant physical improvements in his ward. He secured better street lighting and an improved sewage system for his constituents.''*3 In the 1941 Mayoral election black voters gave Republican incumbent Edward Blythin much of their support. In the predominantly black wards Blythin polled approximately 10,000 votes to Frank Lausche's 5,000, who would go on to win the election. Lausche's 1941 victory ushered in a new era of democratic control in the mayor's office. Lausche gained significant black support in his 1943 contest after he established the Committee on Democratic Practices, a local commission to promote racial understanding. However, Lausche only served until 1945 opting to run for the Governorship. With black council representation virtually assured in the Central area wards, in 1945 black voters turned their attention toward the election of Perry B. Jackson, a candidate for municipal judge. Jackson lost his 1943 campaign by a mere 4,000 votes, largely because Central area voters did not go to the polls. But by 1945, the black

Cleveland Press, 22 September 1947. Cleveland Press, 8 November 1941.

90 electorate mobilized behind Jackson, who went on to the win by approximately 5,000 votes. This victory gave Jackson the distinction of being the first Aftican-American elected

to a judgeship in the state of Ohio. *“*5

In the immediate post-war period, black Republicans lost their hold on two of the three black council seats as new Democratic upstarts made inroads into their base of power. In 1945 Charlie Carr beat out Walker in the 17th ward, while four-time councilman Augustus Parker was defeated by Jean Murrell Capers four years later. Carr and Capers were interesting political figures. Although they came into office when black politicians were severing their ties with the black underworld, they still preferred to maintain relations with local gambling figures. Shortly after his election Carr came under extreme criticism for his alleged ties to the black underworld. In March 1946 the CPD issued a report stating that Carr had collected monthly rents from a known gambling spot in his ward. Whether or not this charge was true remains unknown, but several of Carr's early political moves gave it credence. In the Spring 1946 Carr introduced legislation to weaken the city's anti-gambling ordinance. This proposed piece of legislation required the arresting officer to prove that the possession of a gambling slip , or other "memorandum of wagers" had been purchased by the offender and was to be used in actual gambling. Another action that gave Carr's critics ammunition was that Carr often attempted to use his influence in securing parole for prisoners serving sentences for gambling. Carr rationalized his actions by arguing that he was protecting his constituents, since "seventy-five percent of the people in my ward play policy and clearinghouse" (terms for numbers rackets).

Call and Post, 10, November 1945. Cleveland Press, 21 March 1946, 23 August 1948, 6 June 1946, 11 June 1946; Call and Post, 23 August 1948.

9 1 While Carr could partly explain his pro-gambling stance it was more difficult for him to defend his opposition to decent housing legislation. In May 1951 Carr introduced a measure calling for the removal of periodic inspections on multiple-family dwellings. Later that month he sponsored another piece of legislation that would abolish fire inspections in the Central area. Because of the overcrowded and overpriced housing conditions in his ward, Carr's actions were shocking to everyone since his ward was in the worst physical condition in the city. However, Carr was perhaps somewhat oblivious to the conditions of his ward because he lived in another area of town.*'*^ Like Carr, Jean Capers dabbled with racket figures as well. After gaining election in 1949 she teamed up with Carr in his attempt to ease the city's gambling ordinance. But she went a step beyond Carr and actually encouraged gambling for her constituents. As spokesman for the Central Welfare Association, Capers went before the city licensing commission seeking permission to operate "Bingo " in her ward. After a wave of criticism followed her request. Capers attempted to defend her position by arguing that the proceeds were going to go toward public service projects. However, closer examination of the proposal revealed that only 10-12% of the monies was aimed for this cause. Community leaders such as the Rev. Bill McKinney lashed out at Capers and her proposal. "We expect our public officials to stand for law and order, and to promote the welfare of our people, not their destruction." McKinney further stated that "we are going to fight this filth and not accept this in our area."'^* The actions of Carr and Capers puzzled many political observers who often wondered why they seemed disinterested in ward improvements while pushing insignificant pro-gambling legislation. William Walker, Call and Post editor, summed up their activities by publicly labeling them "strange."

Cleveland Press, 12 May 1951. Call and Post, 24 March 1956. 149 Call and Post, 12 May 1951.

92 In contrast to Carr and Capers, John Kellogg was by far the most efficient. While Carr and Capers ignored the slum conditions of their respective wards, Kellogg devoted much of his efforts toward improving the overall condition of his community. In describing Kellogg's ward, one contemporary remarked, "homes are well maintained as home ownership is widespread, street clubs are prominent, and Kellogg's interest is clearly evident." Councilman Kellogg could also boast of the Fairfax recreation center located in his ward, which many considered the "finest" in the city. Moreover, Kellogg's ward was also home to Karamu House, a nationally renown performing artsc e n t e r , Since his ward was in excellent condition, Kellogg became extremely popular in the black community by speaking out on a variety of issues. One issue was the City Planning Commission's "Master Plan for Cleveland. " This plan called for freeway construction directly through the heart of his ward, as well as factory construction along the fringes of his ward. Kellogg and Charlie Lucas, local NAACP head, met with the Planning Commission and informed them that the 18th ward was an area of "homeowners," who did not intend to let their homes be sacrificed for other areas of the city. Kellogg was adamant in his refusal to let ward 18 become a "step child of the city." "If the new plan goes through," Kellogg argued, "it must be done to enhance, not harass, home ownership."*^! The political agenda of Carr, Capers, and Kellogg varied widely, and this proved to be a disastrous tenure for black voters. Since black citizens were suffering from many of the same issues, they needed a unified voice in city council. Although they only held three of the thirty-three council seats they missed a chance to play a decisive role in the local political happenings.

150 "Meet Your Candidates," Container 1, Folder I, Lowell Henry Papers, Western Reserve Historical Society, Cleveland, OH. •51 Call and Post, 3 Novem ber 1951.

93 Even with black disunity at the council level, black voters became increasingly aware of their group status as conditions continued to deteriorate after World War H. Black voters could not expect much assistance ftom the mayor's office because of the "caretaker" ideology that governed the mayoral tenures of Thomas Burke (1945-53) and Anthony J. Celebreeze (1953-62). Both mayors governed a city politically characterized by party independence, honesty, low taxes, while delivering the bare minimum of social services. Because of this atmosphere, both mayors focused on the status quo as opposed to looking toward the future. These mayoral tenures reaped few tangible rewards for the black community. After Burke established the Community Relations Board, he was virtually

silent on race issues, and subsequently, he ignored the needs of the black electorate. *^2 In 1951 and 1953 black voters attempted to change this pattern by rallying behind the mayoral candidacy of William J. McDermott, a former juvenile court judge. In his initial campaign McDermott shocked political experts by attacking Burke's civil rights record in a full page ad in the Call and Post. Under the caption "For Full Enjoyment of Civil Rights Vote October 2 for William McDermott," he made a strong appeal to black voters by publicly posing question black voters wanted answered. "Why does the present mayor muzzle the CRB? Why is the FEPC law of Cleveland not being enforced? Why are Negro employees not being present according to their experience and ability? Why has no progress been made in Slum Clearance in Cleveland? Why has there been no curb on police brutality in Cleveland? Why are Cleveland Police not trained in race relations?" By making this forthright appeal to black voters, McDermott was cognizant of the power of the black vote and he attempted to build a coalition of voters with strong support from the black community. But while McDermott made overt appeals to black voters, Burke attracted the

•^2 William E. Nelson and Philip Maranto, Electing Black Mayors (Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1971), 73, 77; Wilbur Rich, Coleman Young and Detroit Politics (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1993), 37.

94 west side vote and won the election by a close margin. Although McDermott was unsuccessful, his platform put pressure on Burke to address black issues, and shortly before the election Burke ordered all rookie policeman to take a mandatory course in race- relations before joining the force. In the 1953 election, McDermott still remained attractive to black voters, but he lost support in the white areas as Anthony J. Celebreeze beat him soundly. 1^3

As the second great migration began to increase Cleveland's black population, two changes occurred in black politics. First, aspiring black politicians began to seek higher offices, and second, black representation on city council rose dramatically. In 1955 Alexander H. Martin, Jr., made history as the first Afirican-American to run for Mayor of Cleveland. Martin was virtually an unknown in local political circles, but nevertheless, he waged a strong campaign. Martin's platform called for improving public transportation, developing the lakefixjnt for public use, removal of racial housing barriers, and the development of new home construction within the city. Since Martin did not have a strong base of support, he was forced to make boastful comments about himself and derogatory comments about his opponents. When questioned by a voter about his qualifications, Martin often bragged about his law degree and his twenty-eight month tour of duty in World War n. Martin also stressed the "independence" of his own campaign by accusing Mayor Celebreeze of being a "bossed" poUtician, who lacked "initiative" and "leadership," and whose political agenda was set by newspaper editors and former mayors. He later characterized the administration of the incumbent as "hollow-chested," and "stoop shouldered. "*54 But many citizens both black and white did not take the Martin candidacy

*53 Call and Post, 29 September 1951, 10 November 1951, 27 October 1951, 4 November 1953. *54 "Campaign Flyer," Alexander H. Martin Files, Cleveland Press Archives, Cleveland State University, Cleveland, OH; Plain Dealer, 27 September 1955, 1 October 1955; Cleveland Press, 30 September 1955, 23 September 1955.

95 seriously. Critics suggested that he was merely a "guinea pig" in an experiment to test the strength of the colored vote. Others argued that his real intent was to steal black voters from Celebreeze, an independent Democrat, and help elect the Democratic organizational candidate, Joseph Bartunek. Martin shunned both of these suggestions, claiming that he was "in this contest to win."*^^

Martin's candidacy left black politicians and ward leaders in a bind. While the Republican party supported their organizational candidate, Kermit Neely, Councilman John Kellogg, and ward leaders William Walker and Lawrence Payne withheld their support for Neely because of Martin's presence. This delay was revolutionary because in endorsing candidates organizational men generally go along with the party's recommendation. Because of the uniqueness of the situation, GOP Chairmen A. L. DeMairolus excused black wards leaders from making an official endorsement. Two additional black ward leaders who did not give their name were upfront about the hesitancy on the Neely endorsement. One stated "Tm not going to be caught out on a limb on this Martin thing." Another remarked "there's no sense taking a chance when there's so much support for Martin in my ward." As the election drew closer. Mayor Celebreeze employed a shrewd political technique to draw black votes. To keep his black support, the Celebreeeze campaign printed a one-half page ad in the Call and Post with the pictures of fifteen black city workers under the headline "These Outstanding Public Servants Won Recognition Under the Celebreeze Administration. " Without question, this gesture was designed to inflate the civil rights record of Celebreeze. On election day Martin was swamped at the polls as he only picked up a minuscule 10,000 votes. But the Martin candidacy should not be judged on whether or not he was victorious. Martin's campaign signaled to political observers that

Plain Dealer, 23 September 1955. •56 Cleveland Press, 24 August 1955.

96 as the black population enlarged, black voters would play an important role in local political affairs.

Toward the end of the 1950s the dual effect of southern migration and suburban development had a positive effect on black politics in Cleveland. First, as southemers continued to storm into Northeast Ohio for better economic conditions, they began to dramatically enlarge the black electorate. Second, as local whites retreated to the suburbs, middle-class blacks became permanent fixtures in the communities of Lee-Harvard, Glenville, Mt. Pleasant, and Hough. Accompanying this movement into new areas of settlement was the desire to elect black councilpersons. The 1957 council elections were a turning point, as blacks picked up three additional council seats outside of the traditional Central area wards. Now blacks had representation in wards 10, 11,12,17,18, 24, and 25. The most notable races were in wards 10,24, and 25. Ward 10 was captured by Lowell Heiuy who surprised the experts by beating out four-term councilman Joseph Horowitz in Mt. Pleasant. In another shocker, former councilmen Augustus Parker returned to the political scene by defeating Norman McGhee in ward 25, and lastly Leo Jackson captured ward 24 after defeating Harry T. Marshall, longtime councilman in the former Jewish enclave of Glenville. The groundwork for this political takeover was laid in the fall of 1956 as Charles Loeb,Call and Post reporter, and Rev. Bill McKinney, spearheaded a massive registration campaign that enrolled over 50,000 additional black voters, with the vast majority coming in the wards experiencing racial transition. After this strong showing at the polls, community leaders were optimistic that the seven black councilmen would organize and push meaningful legislation that would benefit the black community. William O. Walker was worried and he warned the "lucky seven"

Call and Post, 2 November 1957, 9 November 1957, 16 November 1957.

97 not to follow in the footsteps of their predecessors. "Negro councilmen over the years have not compiled any extraordinary records for zealousness in pursuit of their constiments, nor have they always been the most reliable to what is best for black citizens." Walker asked them to walk in "concert" with one another to "alleviate" the problems facing the black community. In Walker's words this would require less "grandstanding," and more "serious" study of community needs. However, in the aftermath of this historic election, Charlie Carr, councilman from the seventeenth ward, asked black voters to temper some of their enthusiasm. "Although there are seven Negroes (on city council) we are still but a minority, it takes seventeen votes to adopt legislation and in some circumstances twenty-two votes." Carr's admonition aside, black voters saw seven black faces on city council and they were expecting race-based legislation, reinforced by bloc-voting, across party lines. ‘58 Any hopes for black political unity were quickly dashed in the early months of 1958 over an appointment to the city transit board. In late 1957 Mayor Celebreeze appointed former NAACP head Charlie Lucas to the transit board, but the selection required city council approval. Lucas was openly accepted by three-fourths of the body, however, a small contingent of councilpersons, led by Capers, attempted to block the nomination. At the public hearing on Monday January 20, Capers voiced her opposition to Lucas' appointment. Capers argued that Lucas' selection was "poorly timed," and that this selection would have a negative effect on race relations throughout the city. Apparently, Capers felt that the newly-won council seats were enough of a shock to the white community, therefore a transit board spot should be reserved for someone white. Without question. Capers and her overt appeals were designed to attract white support, but it

‘58 Ca// an d Post, 11 January 1958.

98 backfired as black voters sent her to defeat in her 1959 re-election bid largely because of her opposition to Lucas. Capers was not the only black councilperson to assume an independent posture after the historic election. Lowell Henry joined her in eschewing race-based unity. Henry's troubles erupted after he attempted to "deliver" the Mt. Pleasant Area Council (MPAC), an independent ward organization, to the local Democratic machinery. Although Henry owed his election to the M l Pleasant Area Council, he felt uncomfortable not being a part of the in-crowd at county Democratic headquarters. This maneuver was an attempt to g ain influence with County Democratic Chairmen Ray T. Miller. As one writer put it, "it appears that Henry seems bent on building up a political machine rather than representing his constituents." But the MPAC resisted the move, maintaining their independence.*^® The most popular councilmen of the late 1950s was Leo Jackson of the 24th ward. In the first three months of his freshman term, Jackson was extremely vocal about the poor conditions of the predominantly black wards, and he publicly held the white community responsible. At a town hall meeting in January 1958, Jackson argued that conditions in the black wards would not improve until real estate agents "stopped creating slums." Likewise the new councilman was upset that the flock of bars in black wards were owned by white suburbanites from the "Heights," who also owned many of the overcrowded and subdivided apartment buildings located in black neighborhoods. To alleviate these concerns Jackson sponsored legislation providing for stiff penalties for slum landlords who flourished in the black wards, and he also made a strong attempt to place a ban on liquor permits in black areas as well. Jackson was also very outspoken against the Cleveland Police Department, which he argued, allowed vice and crime to flourish in many of the black communities, while vigorously enforcing the law in white areas. In essence, Jackson

*59 Call and Post, 28 January 1958. *^® Call and Post, 16 August 1958.

99 believed that the white community was ultimately responsible for the problems of black Cleveland. "Crime, slums, enforced idleness, poverty, and other such problems are beyond effective control by the Negro," he stated at a banquet at Antioch Baptist Church in 1959. "If any segment of the black community can be said to have a greater responsibility for these problems," he continued, it belongs to those "who control the conditions which cause and promote them."*^* Unfortunately, Jackson's outspokenness was rarely matched by the other councilmen. However, as conditions worsened over the next decade, black voters would hold politicians accountable by demanding serious representation. VII The black community of Cleveland experienced dramatic growth in the forty-five year period between 1915 and 1960. While the 1915 population was relatively small, by 1960 Cleveland could boast 250,000 black citizens. This rapid growth led to increasing racial discrimination. Unlike the earlier community, which enjoyed relatively high levels of employment, integrated schooling, decent housing, and amicable police-community relations, the 250,000 residents that called Cleveland home in 1960 faced prejudice, discrimination, poverty, and de-facto Jim Crow. Beginning with the Great Migration the "color line" began to harden on Cleveland's black community. Although many southern migrants traveled to Cleveland for industrial employment they were routinely laid off in times of economic distress. During the Great Depression unemployment averaged approximately 90% in the Central area and the New Deal social programs led to occupational decline and increased residential segregation. The period of World War II represented hope for economic, social, and political change, but in the fifteen years after V-J day black Clevelanders constantly faced overt discrimination. In the area of employment black Clevelanders were immediately laid-off

^^^Cleveland Press. 4 June 1959; Plain Dealer, 25 August 1958, 16 January 1959.

100 during reconversion and some were forced to accept employment beneath their skill level. In the local schools, the continual influx of black migrants led to overcrowding in many of the east side black schools as the School Board failed to alter its policy of neighborhood schools. Also between 1945 and 1960 the housing market became increasingly strained as few residents were able to secure housing outside the traditional black areas. The black middle-class enclaves of Mt. Pleasant, Glenville, and Kinsman were out of reach to the majority of black Clevelanders. Subsequently, they were forced to pay exorbitant rents for inferior housing. Police-Community relations presented another problem for Central residents as the Cleveland Police Department cemented their double-standard of law enforcement, which often resulted in police harassment, beatings, and killings within the Central area. In the political arena black Clevelanders increased their visibility on city council, but only a select few used their office to improve the lives of black Clevelanders. Because of the severe impact of these issues on Cleveland's black community, a former Central resident named Carl B. Stokes would attempt to rectify these problems through the arena of electoral politics.

101 CHAPTER 3

THE RISE OF CARL B. STOKES AND THE LAUNCHING OF MILITANT BLACK PROTEST, 1960-1965

The African-American experience during the 1960s continued to be constrained by employment discrimination, poor housing, inferior schooling, and police brutality. But in this period black Clevelanders revised old techniques and implemented new strategies to combat these issues. First, many black residents began to place more of an emphasis on black political participation as the black community continued to represent a larger segment of the overall population. Second, inspired by the southern drive for civil-rights, the early 1960s would also wimess a revival of the direct-action protest techniques once pioneered by the Future Outlook League. Largely through the activities of the United Freedom Movement, a coalition of several civil rights organizations, black Clevelanders would usher in new era of protest in Northeast Ohio, and a native Clevelander named Carl B. Stokes took advantage to emerge as the most important politician of the period. I Carl Burton Stokes was bom on June 21, 1927, to Charles and Louise Stokes. His parents were migrants from Alabama as the family left the rural south for northern urban life in the early 1920s. But similar to the experiences of other southern migrants, the conditions of the Central avenue ghetto caused the Stokes' to erase from memory their pre­ conceived "promised land" image of the industrial North. Upon arriving in Cleveland on

102 the eve of the depression, Charles Stokes had trouble securing steady employment as he experienced the same fate as other black males who were locked out of industrial opportunities. Thus, he was forced to accept employment at a neighborhood laundry. Work at the laundry for Charles fluctuated rapidly. "At times," recalls his wife Louise, "there were only two days' work a week. Some days he worked short hours and drew short pay."*^2 Although Carl's father suffered through "shaky" employment, he always managed to earn enough to support his wife and kids. But tragedy struck in 1928 when Charles died unexpectedly, leaving his wife Louise, and sons, Carl, and Louis behind. *63 As the sole provider of the family, Louise was forced to enter the workforce in the only sphere possible, the domestic arena. In the 1930s domestic wages were paltry and Louise was forced to solicit poor relief to supplement her wages. To assist with childrearing, Louise's mother Farmie Stone moved in with her daughter and grandsons, and Louise remembers that upon her mother's arrival she was rarely home. "I spent most of my time laundering, scrubbing floors, washing dishes, walls, and windows for other more affluent families,

By 1930 the Central area was home to more than 90% of Cleveland's 72,000 blacks. While this ghetto had a clear class stratification, even in the more prosperous 1920s, the majority of its residents lived below the poverty level. As the depression worsened, the economic and social conditions of the community deteriorated. Carl Stokes was raised in this community. The first dwelling Carl lived in was a two-family unit on East 37th St., directly off Central, which was far from ideal:

•62 Cleveland Press 8 November, 1967. •63 Stokes, Promises, 23. •64 Cleveland Press, 8 Novem ber 1967.

103 "we lived in a rickety ol' two-family house. We covered the rat holes with the tops of tin cans. The footsteps always needed fixing, one of them always seemed to be missing. The coal stove kept the living room warm, we used heated bricks and an old flatiron wrapped in flannel to keep warm in the backroom, the three of us shared one bed."*®^

Unlike a segment of the African-American community that romanticized the circumstances of their poverty-stricken youth, Stokes would not glamorize his community. Rather, on several occasions he declared that it was "not the kind of community in which people should have to live."*®^ As the Stokes boys grew older they delivered newspapers to supplement their mother's wages. But even with the assistance of her sons, Louise struggled to stay afloat financially. The family's financial commitments were lightened with the construction of Outhwaite projects in 1938. As the first-federally funded housing project in the nation, Outhwaite provided inexpensive and well-maintained housing. For Carl, Outhwaite could not compare to their previous home since it contained "a sink with hot and cold running water, a place where you could wash clothes with a washing machine," and above all "an actual refrigerator." In addition to these furnishings, the complex also housed a recreation center, which contained a swimming pool, ping-pong tables, and other resources. Without question the Outhwaite recreation center brought a much desired outlet for children of the community. Carl Stokes spent all of his spare time enjoying the facilities.

•65 Stokes, P ro m ise s, 23. •66 Ibid., 24. •67 Ibid., 24-5.

104 Although Outhwaite was located in the heart of the black community, Carl attended integrated schools throughout his grade-school years. Up until the ninth grade Stokes received good grades in the classroom. His mother remembers Carl as an extremely studious student, especially for his age. "He was neat and pretty good about obeying, and a great one for getting books from the library, he'd always have a book in his hands. Sometimes I'd make him put down his library work and do his homework."*®*

But while in the ninth grade the street life of Central became appeahng as Carl began to shoot dice and play poker on a consistent basis. Vice activities in Central flourished because the Pohce Department did not concern themselves with such matters as long as it stayed within the boundaries of the black ghetto. Ironically, one of the vice leaders in Central was Pughsley "Dock" Stone, Carl's Uncle, who operated an illegal after-hours spot next to Outhwaite. Due to its close proximity, Carl spent considerable time in his Uncle’s establishment often admiring his Uncle for making a lucrative living, although it was illegal. "In a community where people live in despair and denial, the man who defies the rules and is able to make a living becomes a hero. Dock was one of our heroes."*®^ Although his street activities began to take on a greater significance Stokes still continued to remain politically active. Childhood friend William Harris recalls that Stokes actively participated in student council because his mind was "politically oriented." Even at a young age, remembered another classmate, Carl was very active at the Cedar YMCA where Central area teenagers held "rap sessions" to discuss everything from sports to

*®* Cleveland Press, 8 November 1967 *®^ Stokes, P ro m ise s, 25.

105 politics. Given Stokes' political conscious mind, the Future Outlook League was attractive to him. Even as a youngster Stokes worked the pickets under the POLs leadership during the local "Don't Buy" campaigns in Cleveland. As the streets took on a particular appeal, his thirst for education disappeared. For high school Carl was assigned to the integrated East Technical, which offered the best technical training in the city. Although East Tech was predominantly white Carl was allowed to enter under the School Board's ingenious quota plan which limited black enrollment at E. Tech to 10% per entering class. But Carl failed to take advantage of this training. Instead, he developed a reputation for bullying white students. Stokes recalls that he and several friends would search the halls of the school looking for white boys to beat up. "If I caught one standing around by himself waiting for a bus, I would just run up and start hitting him." But Carl seldom had problems with the police. He apparently knew when and where to carry out his activities. Along with fighting, Stokes also developed a love for pool hustling. Eventually his street activities outgrew whatever desire he had for a high school education, and at the age of sixteen Stokes dropped out of East Tech to devote his time to hustling. ^ ' One classmate recalls that when Stokes made the decision to drop out of school several friends attempted to talk him out of it, because in their eyes he was a very "astute" student; but nevertheless Carl didn't take their advice, thinking that "it was the best thing to do at the time." Stokes' decision to leave high school may seem surprising considering that many of his childhood peers labeled him intelligent and bright. However, Stokes became "despondent" and "disgusted" at the conditions in his community and like many of his peers young Carl saw the Army, not a high school diploma, as a way o u t . *‘^2

*^®William Harris Interview, Conatiner 6, Folder 100, CBS Papers. *^^Walter Burkes Interview, Container 6, Folder 19, CBS Papers; Stokes, "Promises," 26-7. '72 Ibid.

106 In July 1945, Stokes enlisted in the Army during the peak of black participation. Of the approximately one million black men and women who served during World War U, an estimated 700,000 served in the Army, an officially segregated force which treated blacks as ancillary manpower. It was while in the Army that Stokes developed a hatred toward the white community. After enlisting, Stokes was taken to Atterbury, Indiana, and then to Ft. McClellan, Alabama. While eating at a Birmingham restaurant en route to the base, Stokes had his first encounter with the southern way of life. After being told to enter through the rear door, Stokes was further humiliated by a rude and apparently racist waitress. Unaccustomed to this type of treatment, Stokes remarked smartly and the waitress retorted, "you may not know it now nigger, but you're in Alabama now." This incident had such an effect upon Stokes that in the entire thirteen weeks spent at Ft. McClellan he never left the base. For tliis northern bom and bred African-American, the threat of further humiliation or bodily harm was enough to keep Stokes confined to the base for his entire stay. While at the base Stokes became acquainted with several other black soldiers who often stressed the importance of education to fellow draftees. It is quite possible that some of the older black soldiers gave Stokes extra attention because they saw potential or because of his rather young age, since at eighteen Stokes was probably one of the youngest soldiers in the camp. This instruction paid off because upon arriving back in Cleveland in 1946, Stokes re-enrolled in East Tech, earning his diploma in 1947. After attending West Virginia State College briefly, Stokes returned to Cleveland once again in 1948. Back home Stokes became involved with the Young Progressives, a youth organization affiliated with Henry Wallace's Progressive Party. While in the Young

Stokes, P ro m ise s, 28. '74 Ibid.. 28. '75 Ibid., 31.

107 Progressives Stokes became acquainted with Bert Washington, a former US Postal Clerk who lost his job for alleged communist membership. At times the Young Progressives would gather at Washington's house to discuss what Stokes termed: "the competitive merits of socialism and capitalism." Through Stokes' involvement with the YP, he met and developed a relationship with Paul Robeson, whom Stokes would credit as having a tremendous influence upon his political ambitions. Whenever Robeson traveled to Cleveland, the singer would make it a point to meet with Washington and fellow Wallace supporters. Stokes remembers that Robeson often discussed labor issues along with the "imprisonment and economic and social ostracism" of those committed to "raising the level of working poor." Later Stokes would write that the lessons and more importantly the example set forth by Robeson "heavily influenced my philosophy of government. In summer of 1949 Stokes got his initial look at politics while working for John Holly, Director of the Future Outlook League and vote deliverer for the Democratic party. In 1948 Holly was responsible for organizing black Ohioans for Frank Lausche's 1949 gubernatorial campaign. Consequently, Holly was often asked to travel throughout the state and Stokes served as his chauffeur. From this vantage point Stokes learned first-hand how a political campaign was organized. As they drove together Holly often related his own struggles for economic and social Justice, while constantly stressing the importance of political participation and political power. Perhaps both realized that as the black population grew the ballot would become a powerful tool. Stokes considered the summer of 1949 his "primary-level education in politics." Later that year Stokes made the acquaintance of Jack Oliver, who like Holly, was given the task of organizing black voters for the Democratic party. Oliver was a staunch party man who possessed an "infinite feel for politics and the irresistible inclination to

•76 Ibid.. 19. •77 Ibid., 31, 20.

108 organize and help aspiring politicians." Holly and Oliver not only gave Stokes considerable advice, they also helped him secure several patronage jobs.'^s With the assistance of Holly and Oliver, Stokes landed a position with the state liquor department, first as a part- time clerk, and then as a full-time enforcement officer. As a hquor agent Stokes was responsible for closing down establishments that served liquor illegally. But Stokes understood the unwritten rule—he was not supposed to enforce the law in predominantly white areas. Initially Stokes had little trouble carrying out his duties but his experience in Canton, Ohio, a city with Jim-Crow leanings would change that. His first encounter came at a theater where the local sheriff instructed him to occupy the black section of the theater. Encounter two came shortly thereafter at a local bar where the bartender told him that they did not serve Negroes at the main bar. Extremely disturbed, Stokes proceeded to shut down five illegally operating white-owned taverns. Needless to say this overzealousness angered his superiors who immediately transferred him to Toledo. Stokes' experiences as a state liquor agent encouraged him to pursue a bachelors of Law degree at the University of Minnesota, where he completed the requirements in 1954. Stokes returned home shortly after graduation and enrolled in Cleveland-Marshall Law School on a part-time basis, while working as a full-time probation officer. While working as a probation officer Stokes recognized his life-calling, politics: The job as a probation officer enlarged my sense of social commitment and enraged me. Until then, I had been occupied keeping my head above water. Now I felt relatively secure and headed for an independent future. But that job brought me again and again into contact with those who were not making it, people whose spirits had been

"The Making o f a Mayor," in The Plain Dealer Sunday Magazine, 10 December, 1967. Stokes, Prom ises, 32-4.

109 broken by oppression, filth, and squalor. I was supposed to be their advocate and guide, but I began to see that they needed more than that, they needed advocates at the highest levels of government.

Stokes found work as an assistant police prosecutor shortly after graduating from law school, but in the process he increasingly set his sights on a career in politics. III Stokes' initial entree into the local political scene started like that of many black leaders, as a campaign manager. His first candidate was Lowell Henry who sought a council seat in the historic 1957 city elections. Prior to the election Henry had served six years as a member of the city planning commission, and at the time of the election he was chairman of the Mt. Pleasant Community Council. As chairman, Henry lobbied to restrict the licensing of more bars, and labored continuously to improve Mt. Pleasant's recreational facilities. His opponent was Joseph Horowitz, the incumbent, a Jewish lawyer practicing on the black East side. Horowitz was headed toward re-election until Stokes discovered that he owned more than $80,000 in slum property. Stokes seized the opportunity and publicly labeled Horowitz a "slumlord," effectively ruining Horowitz's re-election chances.'81

In the aftermath of the November 1957 election, Stokes decided to throw his hat into the political arena that following Spring by seeking the state senate seat. The Henry campaign gave Stokes significant visibility in local black political circles, and in the months following Stokes increased his community involvement by becoming particularly active in the local Urban League, NAACP, and the County Federated Democrats of Ohio, the only statewide black Democratic organization in Ohio. Stokes was also a member of the Young

'80 Ibid., 39-40. '8' Cleveland Press, 10 September 1957, 21 July 1951.

110 Democrats, a predominantly-white Democrat-affiliated organization, open to any registered Democrat under the age of thirty-five. A large number of Stokes' future political allies were members, and in this setting Stokes gained the acquaintance of other aspiring and seasoned politicians. For his inaugural political campaign Stokes' platform centered around several issues, most notably, welfare, education, employment, and mental health, all of which were vital to black Clevelanders. While on the campaign trail Stokes promised to draft legislation that would increase unemployment benefits, establish a state minimum wage law, provide higher teacher salaries, and improve facilities for the mentally retarded and emotionally disabled. He also promised to be a "vigorous, " and "alert" advocate for the black poor. *82

In seeking the state senate seat from District 25 Stokes knew he was waging an ambitious campaign, and he had no serious thoughts of winning. Although he made the requisite appearances before the various endorsing bodies, the seriousness of the effort lay in finding out how many people would vote for Carl Stokes on just name recognition alone. Without a visible campaign Stokes managed to receive 5,000 votes, while the leading vote getter, John Corrigan received 53,000. For Stokes, this campaign was part of the political "groundwork" he needed to create a base of support for future elections.‘83 Many political experts wondered why Stokes didn't seek a city council seat instead of the state senate. For Stokes, the thought of being a councilman "repelled" him. In his autobiography he characterizes the interests of Cleveland's black councilmembers as "petty," and "pecuniary. " He clung to the belief that black council members counted their success by whether or not the office brought additional income, either by allowing a new establishment to open, pushing legislation for a zoning change, or by allowing illegal

*82 "Stokes Campaign Flyer," "Draft of Letter," Container 1, Folder 1, CBS Papers. *83 Stokes, P r o m is e s, 48-9.

1 1 1 activity to flourish. Being elected to the Cleveland City Council in Stokes’ eyes wasn't a mandate to legislative responsibility, it was a ticket to a bartering system.**’^ Between 1958 and the elections of 1960 Stokes went into private law practice with his brother and continued his community involvement with hopes of making another run at the state house in 1960. Prior to the filing deadline for the 1960 election Stokes and A1 Sweeney, political editor of theCall and Post, went through voting records and projected that if Stokes entered the Democratic primary for state representative he had an excellent chance of gaining nomination. In this election, Cuyahoga County was allotted seventeen representatives. Out of a potential 150 candidates the top seventeen vote-getters would be nominated. (In a Democrat-controlled city like Cleveland, the primary was perhaps more important than the general election.) When Stokes informed his close friends that he was making a run at the State House many of them responded with extreme pessimism and several wondered why he just would not run for City Council. Although he had their support, they were not extremely confident that he could win. Ironically, he managed to persuade his white political acquaintances that he could attract the necessary votes to win, but not members of the local black political elite. In order to become the first modem black Democrat elected to the Ohio state legislature, Stokes had to employ an unconventional campaign strategy. The prevailing logic within the local democratic party told black candidates to keep their face "hidden" from the white community, which included the newspapers and campaign literature that might find its way to white areas." Stokes did just the opposite and waged a highly visible campaign. Stokes printed 20,000 campaign flyers, 10,000 for the black community and the 10,000 for the white communities. Purposely, these flyers were not identical. While both flyers carried a picture of Stokes, whom many considered handsome and good-

184 Ibid.

I 12 looking, the photos that went to the West side portrayed Stokes as light-skinned and without a mustache, while the photos that were sent to black voters were more accurate. Stokes realized that white voters would not vote for a black candidate who appeared too dark or who wore a thick mustache, thus the second set of photos distributed in the white community were intended to portray Stokes as a non-intimidating or "safe" candidate.*®^ A different strategy was also necessary in order for Stokes to distinguish himself from the other black Democrats seeking the Democratic nomination to the state legislature. While several black candidates took a more lackadaisical approach to the election, Stokes waged a rather "aggressive" and highly organized campaign. A1 Sweeney, city editor of the Call and Post, wrote: "If effort pays off, Stokes should win handily. He is pulling out all the stops with a headquarters, an aggressive organization, billboard signs, et al."**^ That Stokes managed to put forth an aggressive campaign is surprising since he was running without the initial support of the Cuyahoga County Democratic Executive Committee. On advertisements that the committee placed in the Call and Post on April 23 and April 30, Stokes' picture was not included, nor was his name mentioned on the committees' endorsement list. But, in ads that Stokes purchased himself in the same two issues, he listed the committee as one of seven strong endorsements. The other six were the Cleveland Press, the Plain Dealer, the Cleveland Citizens League, Americans for Democratic Action, and the Cleveland Courier. Stokes' 1960 campaign issues were similar to his 1958 platform. His immediate concern was "the welfare of the lower economical groups," of which, he stated, "I am a part." Throughout the campaign, Stokes focused on three issues: (1) the abohshment of legal recognition of coramon-law marriages, (2) the need for vocational schools, and (3)

*85ibid., 51; "Campaign Flyer" in Container 1, Folder 1, CBS Papers. •86 Call and Post, 9 April 1960. •87 Ibid., 23, 30 April 1960.

1 13 the establishment of a minimum wage. Stokes' experience as a lawyer and prosecutor taught him that socially condoned "shacking-up" had resulted in more harm than good. Regarding vocational education, Stokes was cognizant of the fact that industry was more and more requiring people with skills, and that increased automation and technology meant "the elimination of men and women at the labor or semi-skilled level." If these workers were unable to develop new skills, they would end up on the welfare rolls. Stokes also believed that "a minimum wage law must be established." Without the law, there would be countless people unable to secure good employment, who would be forced to work at "starvation" wages. Simply put, Stokes wondered: "What standard of living can a family of four maintain on a thirty-five dollar a week income?" Stokes' overall platform hoped to contribute toward an ultimate solution to the problems caused by migration, urbanization and automation. In his eyes these problems demanded quick, drastic, and immediate answers.*** In order to attract white political support, Stokes persuaded his fellow white candidates to include him on their ticket. Stokes was not well connected in the suburbs, and needed an "entree" into their political meetings. Stokes informed the white candidates that he was waging an intensive campaign to bring out the black vote, and that by allying with him they would pull black votes that they otherwise would not get in their community. Through his afiiliation with white politicians, Stokes canvassed the entire county, visiting not only the city ethnic political clubs, but also the newer suburbs where voter participation was always high.**^ Although blacks made up only 11% of the county population in 1960, black voter participation was critical to Stokes' success. To guarantee a large percentage of the black

*** Carl Stokes to Brian Robinson, Carl Stokes to Wilson Perry, Container 1, Folder 1, CBS Papers. **9 Stokes, P rom ises, 54-5.

1 14 vote, Stokes had to launch a massive program to educate voters. The Stokes team instructed black voters to "plunk" their vote, a method made popular by white ethics to increase their voting strength. Plunking meant that the voter was to mark Stokes' name only, instead of voting for all seventeen candidates, as the law allowed. This would have the effect of multiplying each black vote seventeen times. Stokes also asked his followers to start at the bottom of the ballot and work their way up. Because the primary election took place during a Presidential election year, Stokes was aware that he had to "change the habitual voting pattern of a drop-off as a voter makes his way down the ballot." In addition to Stokes' alliance with his white peers and his efforts to educate the black electorate, his most valuable campaign tool was gaining the powerful endorsement of Ray T. Miller, chairman of the Cuyahoga County Democratic Executive Committee. Charles V. Carr, a veteran black councilman, approached Miller on Stokes' behalf knowing that there had to be at least one black candidate on the endorsed primary ticket. With Miller's endorsement, Stokes looked toward Columbus. In the May 3rd primary election, Stokes finished seventeenth in the unofficial count with 26,535 votes. William Feighan, son of a Congressman and nephew of a Judge, tallied 26,272 votes, leaving him disqualified for the General Election. However, on May 27, 1960, "upon completion of the official canvass," it was reported that Feighan placed seventeenth with 26,456 votes and Stokes eighteenth with 26,433 votes. Thus, Feighan gained 184 votes, while Stokes lost 102. Occupying the eighteenth position, Stokes had lost the nomination by twenty-three votes. Sensing "foolishness" or old-fashioned politics, Stokes filed on June 1st with the Board of Elections for a recount in 150 predominantly black precincts. When the two day

'90 Ibid; Call and Post, 14 May 1960. '9' Stokes, P r o m is e s, 57. 192 "Legal Brief, Container 1, Folder 1, CBS Papers.

1 15 recount was completed, Stokes was declared the nominee with anofficial vote of 26,462, to Feighan's 26,445. On June 14, after the announcement by the Board of Elections, Feighan alleged that the results were still incorrect because there had been voting irregularities in black precincts, and he requested that the board call its own recount. The alleged "mechanical errors" enabled Feighan to retain his one recount, allowed by law. On

June 16, the Board honored Feighan's request and recounted the ballots in the precincts that Stokes had not asked for a recount. The results hrom this tally placed Feighan seventeenth with 26,448 votes, and Stokes with 26,440 votes, eighteenth. Prior to the last recount, the Board of Elections, in a rare move, changed voting totals in the all-white wards 33 and 6 without a recount, where Feighan gained votes and Stokes lost a number of votes "because of some weird markings on the ballot," making them disqualified. With Feighan eight votes ahead of Stokes the Board "unanimously ordered" Feighan the winner.

Allotted only one recount by law, Stokes and his lawyer, William H. Stein, president of the Young Democrats, agreed that since the board ordered its own recount and changed the final results, it was admitting that the official count was erroneous. Thus, they argued, Stokes should still posses hisone recount. Stokes and Stein presented their case before the Board of Elections, which consisted of two Republicans and two Democrats. The Secretary of State, a Republican, broke the tie and Stokes had lost again. Stokes was left with only one more option, to make it a legal matter.*^'* Since it was a county-wide election, Stokes and Stein asked the county prosecutor to make a legal ruling. Prosecutor John Corrigan ruled in Stokes' favor and asked the court to dismiss Feighan's claim because it failed to state a case. Immediately after the ruling, Feighan's lawyers filed an injunction and a mandamus action against Stokes, asking

Ibid; Call and Post, 14 June 1960. Stokes, Promises, 59.

1 16 the court of appeals to prevent any further recounts and ordering it to declare Feighan the nominee. After losing three to zero in the appellate court, Stokes appealed to the Ohio Supreme Court but suffered yet another loss when they handed down their ruling in September. As a result of all the legal maneuvering, four months were needed to declare a winner in the May 3rd primary. Surprisingly, Stokes did not exhibit hard feelings after the Supreme Court's ruling. He was "naturally disappointed at the decision," but somewhat "heartened " by the fact that it was a split four to three decision indicating that there was considerable support on the Ohio Supreme Court for his cause. Stokes further stated that he felt satisfied that he had done all that he could on this issue to satisfy his "conscience" and "obligation" to his fellow supporters.*^® Surprisingly, Cleveland's black community did not protest or make charges of racism after the Stokes defeat. Many of Stokes' supporters believed that the recount "fiasco" did not represent an attempt by Democratic party brass to "steal" the election from Stokes. In addition, many believed that the Democratic leadership went all-out in its efforts to win a spot on the ticket for the highly-qualified Stokes. But in an apparent act of revenge, the black community voted overwhelmingly against Judge William Feighan in his fight for an open seat on the Probate Court bench. "It was one of those rare times that a

Republican beat a Democrat for a judgeship" in Cuyahoga c o u n t y . '^7 In Stokes' eyes the recount battle had given him a great deal of publicity in the local media. He emerged from the 1960 primary race more "widely known, " "admired, " and had been portrayed as a serious and competent candidate, as well as a good loser. This image would help him tremendously as he sought the same office in the 1962 election. *^8

and Post, 9 July I960; Stokes, P rom ises, 59. and Post, 24 September 1960. Ibid., 25 June I960; Stokes, P ro m ises, 61. 198 Ibid.

117 In March, 1962, Stokes resigned his position as assistant police prosecutor. Virtually assured of a victory in the primary election, Stokes decided to devote the majority of his time toward building a broad coalition of voters. He started in the black community. In the 1960 primary, he had received less than half of the black vote, and virtually none from whites. Moreover, he got no help from the city's black councilmen. He attributed this lack of support to the fragmentation that had been imposed on black wards to keep any single black politician from assuming too much power. The only way to overcome this division was to build a black power base.*^^ In 1962, Stokes capitalized on the increasing dissatisfaction of the black electorate. Based on 1960 US. census figures, the majority of Cleveland's 250,000 black residents lived in the Central ghetto. 21.2% of all housing occupied by blacks was either dilapidated or deteriorating, as compared to 7.4% for white-occupied housing. These differences resulted from discrimination and segregation.^oo While housing discrimination played a tremendous role in the fight for fair-housing, the majority of black Clevelanders were unable to afford decent housing. In 1959 the median family income for blacks was $4768 compared to $7350 for whites, a difference of $2582, while in the same year 50% of all blacks in Cleveland were making less than $3000 a year, which was below the national poverty level! Regardless of educational attainment whites earned substantially more. A white college graduate in 1959 earned $2621 more than his black counterpart, and although the gap was lessened somewhat for those at the bottom of the educational ladder, a difference was clearly evident nonetheless.^o*

•99 Weinberg, Black Victory, 37. Ernest C. Cooper, The Negro in Cleveland: An Analysis of the Social and Economic Characteristics of the Negro Population, 1950-1963 (Cleveland: Urban League, 1964); U. S. Commission on Civil Rights, Hearing Before the United Sates Commission on Civil Rights (Washington: U.S. Government, 1966). 201 Cooper, "The Negro in Cleveland. "

118 Initially, Cleveland's industrial-based economy provided jobs for black workers. Beginning in the mid-50s however, Cleveland suffered deindustrialization. Between 1953 and 1963,80,000 blue-collar jobs disappeared from the Cleveland area, replaced by 20,000 white-collar positions. Although a few black citizens secured white-collar employment, the majority of the black labor force found jobs in blue-collar occupations. In 1960, two-thirds of all employed black workers were semi-skilled workers, service workers, and laborers. Even though many blacks found blue-collar jobs, the unemployment rate in the black community fluctuated between 10 and 12% in 1960. In some areas it was much higher, such as the Central Avenue area where the unemployment rate was a staggering 17.6%. In the affluent black sections of Lee-Miles and Mt. Pleasant, the unemployment figures were at a more modest 5.1%. Predictably, the areas in which future civil umest would occur had the highest unemployment rates and the worst housing.202

Stokes' 1962 campaign was virtually a repeat of his 1960 run at the State House. He spoke on the same issues and the voters responded. In the May primary, Stokes finished 9th out of the seventeen nominated. His supporters reminded him that it was reassuring "having been elected on the first count," obviously referring to his 1960 campaign. Michael V. DiSalle, Governor of Ohio, who was engaged in a campaign of his own, congratulated Stokes on his nomination and wrote that Stokes' "vigorous campaign win greatly enhance our party's opportunity for victory" in the upcoming November election. DiSalle, who reached out to black voters, was attempting to attract Stokes' support for his own campaign.^o^

202 Ibid. 203 Melvin Berman to Carl Stokes, Governor Michael DiSalle to Stokes, Container I, Folder 1, CBS Papers.

119 The consummate politician, Stokes thanked his voters for the support through two different form letters. To his black supporters the letter read: "together we cracked the traditional barrier that a Negro could not be nominated for the state legislature on the Democratic ticket." To whites, it read: "this was a campaign few people felt could be won. Hard work, confidence in the achieving of our goal and constant teaching of selective voting did the job." Both sets of letters acknowledged that the November election would "be as hard as the one which began" in January, 1962.20^ In the November general election Stokes received 219,782 votes and made history as the first black Democrat to sit in the Ohio legislature. In the 105th General Assembly there were only two blacks, Stokes and David Albritton, a black Republican from Dayton. As the first black Democrat, Stokes knew that he had to deliver on some of his campaign promises. Although a state legislative seat in Columbus could possibly distract one away from the particular interests of his constituents, Stokes' first year in the General Assembly illustrates that he was sincere about serving the citizens of Cuyahoga County, and more importantly its black residents. During his first term in the House, Stokes sent monthly reports back to his constituents. Within the first month, his supporters could read that Stokes introduced a bill (H.B. 232) to prohibit state recognition of common-law marriages, and he also sponsored a bill (H.B. 290) calling for the operator of a motor vehicle to stop after an accident. This bill would allow for the closing of loopholes in the Hit-Skip law and would crack down on any motorist fleeing the scene of an accident which caused injury or damage. While these two bills would benefit everyone, Stokes also introduced or sponsored legislation that would improve the quality of life for Ohio's black poor.^os

204 Letters to various individuals from Stokes, Container I, Folder 1, CBS Papers. 205 "State Representative Carl B. Stokes Newsletter," Container I, Folder 1 CBS P a p ers.

120 The most controversial of the bills was the fair-housing legislation Stokes and Albritton introduced on February 12, 1963. Fair Housing Law (H. B. 308) would eliminate discrimination in the financing and rental of real estate on the basis of race, color, religion, or national origin. Housing discrimination in Cleveland was practiced daily by real-estate interests. Either through restrictive covenants, sub-dividing single dwellings, or racism, black Clevelanders, regardless of income, were generally confined to the older areas of ± e city. The suburbs of Cleveland Heights, Shaker Heights, and University Heights, were off-limits to blacks, and many areas of the West side were equally hostile to African-Americans. Thus, middle-class blacks could only relocate to Mt. Pleasant, Miles Heights, or Glenville, but with the limited number of dwellings available in those areas, black citizens had no choice but to accept ghetto housing. Yet, working-class blacks paid a medium monthly rent roughly the same as whites in suburban Cleveland and even higher rents for the unquestionably substandard housing they received!206

Although Cleveland spent millions of dollars on slum clearance projects in the 1950s, a majority of black families moved into other areas of substandard housing paying a considerable higher rent. In order to offset the high rents, these families often "doubled up" in single units, thus overcrowding standard units and hastening the cycle of deterioration. Stokes hoped that his bill would provide a solution to these problems. Fourteen other states, including Pennsylvania and New York had passed fair housing laws, and Stokes believed that it was time "Ohio got in step."2°2 On Wednesday March 13, 1963, the first hearing on H.B. 308 was held with over three-hundred people attending the proceedings. One of the largest crowds in the history of the Assembly observed the hearing before the Government Appropriations Committee.

2 0 6 Ibid 15 March 1963, Container 1, Folder I, CBS Papers; Cooper,"The Negro in Cleveland," 19. 2 0 7 Cooper, "Negro," 19; Carl Stokes to James Ferrell, Container 1, Folder 1, CBS P a p e r s.

121 After the March hearing, Stokes asked his readers to "write letters yourself, and urge your club groups and friends to write" to the Committee. The bill was sent to a sub-committee chaired by Stewart Kitchen, a real estate broker and a member of the Ohio Association of Real Estate Brokers. In an April 20th newsletter to his supporters, Stokes advised them that the bill was "in trouble." The Committee had received the bill on April 2, but had not "scheduled a single meeting." Stokes requested that interested persons write to Governor Rhodes and ask that he redeem his October, 1962, pledge to support fair housing legislation.208

In late May, without having one public or private hearing, the Republican controlled committee reported back that H.B. 308 was "unacceptable." In response, the Ohio Civil Rights Committee sponsored a "Save the Fair Housing Bill" demonstration during which over a thousand people held an "impressive silent vigil on the State House steps." This demonstration, in Stokes' opinion, was "a splendid and impressive display of the state­ wide interest and concern of all segments of the Ohio community." Stokes was particularly delighted that his constituents made up almost a third of those in attendance.^o^ Along with the demonstration, the Congress of Racial Equality (CORE) staged a sit-in, lay-in, and chain-in demonstration during the last two weeks of the legislative session. Three CORE members sat at the door of the House chamber and two others chained themselves to seats in the gallery. In Stokes' words, "they were magnificent." The bill did not come up for a vote however, but was postponed indefinitely by the committee.^'0 Stokes had better luck with two other bills. H.B. 418 required that officers conducting the search of a person or his dwelling had to give an inventory of the items

208 "Newsletter" 20 April 1963, Container I, Folder 1, CBS Papers. 209 Ibid., 25 June 1963, Container 1, Folder 1, CBS Papers. ^'0 Stokes to Durham, Container 1, Folder 1, CBS Papers; Call and Post 22 J u n e 1963

122 discovered and confiscated. It was introduced to better "spell-out" the conditions under which warrants could be obtained to search homes. This was necessary because there had been some grievous violations of personal and civil liberties relating to this matter. This bill passed the House and the Senate and became law. 211 The right of an attorney to visit a prisoner was the subject of H.B. 419. Labeled the "Rights Under Arrest" law, this bill entitled an accused person to see a lawyer as soon as he is arrested, and not after a 72 hour period during which the accused is held "incommunicado." This legislation was passed by General Assembly but Rhodes vetoed it. Stokes re-introduced it during the next legislative term and it became law.212

During the remainder of his first term Stokes drafted several other pieces of legislation that would benefit black Clevelanders. Late in the session he co-sponsored a bill to give financial assistance to the children of unemployed parents. The bUl, which was passed by the legislature, allowed for the use of federal funds for the support of persons on the Aid to Dependent Children (ADC) lists. Governor Rhodes and Roger Cloud, Speaker of the House, supported ±e measure, even though Stokes was a freshman, as well as a member of the minority party. Cloud's backing was significant considering that throughout the entire legislative session, the speaker only went to the floor twice to support legislation. Stokes won the respect and admiration of both party leaders and colleagues who realized that he should be applauded for getting a liberal measure passed in a "traditionally conservative legislature." At the end of the 1963 session, Stokes was nominated for "Freshman-of-the-Year" because of his legislative success, and both Republicans and Democrats alike labeled Stokes "a tribute to the state house."^'^ IV

211 "Newsletter" 15 March 1963 , 20 April 1963, Container 1, Folder 1, CBS P a p e r s. 212 Ibid; "Misc. Stokes files," Container 1, Folder 2, CBS Papers. 212 Call and Post, 14 December 1963, 16 May, 1964.

123 While Stokes was carrying out his duties at the State Capitol in Columbus, black Clevelanders continued to struggle for fair employment, decent housing, better police protection, and improved schooling. But by the Spring of 1963, Harold Williams, Executive Secretary of the local NAACP branch sensed the need for a more effective protest organization to address these issues. On June 3, 1963, Williams called a meeting to consider the best possible means for meeting the "crises," and as a result the United Freedom Movement (UFM) was bom, a civil-rights coalition with over sixty participating organizations. With the formation of the UFM the quest for civil rights would reach new heights in Northeast Ohio. In a press release sent throughout Cleveland, the UFM recognized the state of "unrest," "tensions," and deep "animosities" of black Clevelanders concerning their socio-economic and political status. Because of these conditions movement organizers stated that they wanted total "freedom" and "equality of opportunity," "now!" Anything short of this, they warned, would precipitate all kinds of "unpleasant," and "unfortunate" experiences in "our" city.214

The UFM designated five basic areas of concern: employment discrimination, housing, education, political action, and health and welfare. To bring attention to these issues the UFM threatened to conduct peaceful demonstrations, including "picket lines, withholding of trade, sit-ins, kneel-ins," and other methods of a non-violent nature. Moreover, the UFM cautioned the so-called white power structure that invitations to the negotiating table must yield "meaningful," and "immediate" relief, as opposed to "token" or symbolic gestures. In closing, the release stated that the racial divide in Cleveland was not a "Negro problem," but a community wide problem.^

214 "Statement of Concern," United Freedom Movement Folder in Cleveland Press Archives at Cleveland State University. Hereafter cited as CPA. 215 Ibid.

124 After organizational matters were complete, the UFM launched its inaugural protest against the discriminatory policies of local labor unions. In particular, they were disgusted at the racial makeup of workers at the Public Hall construction site in Downtown Cleveland. Of the three-hundred workers at the site, only twenty-seven were African-American. When it was revealed that several of the unions on the project such as the Electrical, Plumbers, Sheet Metal, and Structural Iron Workers' Union, all excluded black workers, the UFM launched its protest. On June 27th the UFM armounced that it was going to picket the construction site the following Monday at 10:00 AM unless a black electrician, black plumber, or black sheet metal worker was hired. In response to the threat Mayor Ralph Locher along with Community Relations Board Director Ellsworth Harpole called a meeting with UFM leaders, labor officials, and city officials, with hopes of resolving the crises. During the meeting Williams repeatedly expressed the demands of the UFM. But he soon grew frustrated and walked out of the meeting. Williams’ actions called one writer to remark that Williams's actions upset the "calm" atmosphere of the meeting. Williams saw it differently, for this was the type of unacceptable token gesture the UFM explicitly stated it would not participate in. But after another day of meetings the UFM postponed the picketing until labor had a chance to act.^*^ Spokesmen for the labor unions vehemently denied the accusations of racial exclusion. The lack of black workers, they claimed, was a result of the absence of "qualified" black applicants, as well as the hiring policies of area contractors. While the electrical and sheet metal workers union were unwilling to change their policies, the plumber's local agreed to admit two black plumbers. But before hiring the black plumbers, Anthony Kile, vice-president of Smith and Oby Company, set specific terms

Plain Dealer, 29 June 1963, 1 July 1963, 38 Junel963,Cleveland Press, 28 June 1963.

125 for their employment. Kile stated that applicants "must be members of Local 55," while also holding a city plumbing license. He also added that any employee who "shirked" his duties," or was "insubordinate" could be laid off (UFM officials interpreted this last comment as being specifically aimed toward black workers.) Black applicants were told to apply for membership at the Local's monthly meeting, after which they would be screened and tested prior to membership. The UFM accepted the proposal and agreed to delay picketing until the Plumber's local met. However, while waiting, they attempted to work out similar agreements with the other racist unions on the project.217

While trying to hammer out similar agreements with the other unions, the UFM sponsored a Freedom March on July 14 through Downtown Cleveland. Held in the rain, approximately 15,000 participants marched the two-mile route into cavernous Cleveland Stadium where they were joined by almost 10,000 more supporters. This massive display of protest and unity signaled to the larger white community that black Clevelanders were not content with their status. Many supporters carried signs and posters conveying a wide variety of messages, but with one overriding theme, justice and equality. Some of the posters read: "Segregated housing is unconstitutional," "Better Jobs," "De-Facto Schools Must Go," "Police Brutality Must Go"; while others carried more threatening messages: "Give Me Liberty or Give Me Death, " and "Job Opportunities will not Wait."2i8

A variety of local and national civil rights leaders spoke at the rally including Roy Wilkins, National Executive Director of the NAACP, and James Farmer, National Director of CORE. The 25,000 marchers sang freedom songs throughout the rally, and clapped continuously as the UFM read its bill of particulars calling for an end to all

Plain Dealer, 3 July 1963. Call and Post, 20 July 1963.

126 vestiges of racism in Cleveland. Many participants felt that a show of protest was long overdue, with one writer remarking: "this is the best thing that ever came up." But more importantly, the Freedom March signaled to the country that black folks in Cleveland were not "asleep."^ After the march the UFM once again turned its attention to the Public Hall construction controversy. After the structural iron workers and the steamfitters locals refused to admit blacks immediately into the union, the UFM once again threatened to picket the site. The plumbers local, meanwhile, agreed to hire two black plumbers, Theodus Hilliard, Jr., and William Baker, Jr., with union membership to come at a later time. On the day Hilliard and Baker were told to report to the site, however, all 1400 members of local 55 failed to report to work, calling it a "holiday," plainly displaying their anger with the decision to employ non-union workers, who were black. This hate-strike included the eleven members of Local 55 who were stationed at the downtown construction site. The walk-out lasted three days bringing construction to a virtual halt. In a rare act of racial unity several black councilmen lashed out angrily at the plumbers because the Council Finance Committee approved funds for the project, and now white workers were refusing to work with non-union black plumbers. Council veteran Charlie Carr, Chair of the Committee, stated, "this is an insult to all of the Negroes in Cleveland." Likewise, Lowell Henry expressed displeasure by adding, "how can 1 sit on a city council and approve the spending of funding for persons like this. In the future 1 will fight bond issues" until the discriminatory unions discontinued their "anti-Negro" policies. Ironically, while black politicians were expressing outrage, Edward Domas, general manager of the United Association of Plumbers, termed the walkout a "misunderstanding."^^^

-19 Ibid. 220 Cg/i and Post, 3 August 1963, 27 July 1963.

127 A strikingly similar scenario occurred when Sheetmetal Workers Local 65 agreed to employ one black journeyman, Gilbert Foster. When Foster reported to work eleven sheetmetal workers at the site immediately walked off their jobs in protest. What angered UFM officials was that according to Local 65's by-laws, a worker had to work for seven days before even applying for membership. This move clearly illustrated to UFM officials that Local 65's objection to Foster was more racial than anything else. However, the protest against Foster only lasted one day- because he was transferred to another work site. While the Plumbers' and Sheetmetal Workers' officials attempted to resolve the dispute the infamous Local 38 Electricians' union nullified a previously agreed upon settlement. Although publicly agreeing to employ black electricians, they were never even sent to the site for work.^^ * As the unions remained defiant to the idea of black workers at the site, UFM officials once again threatened to picket. Executive Secretary of the UFM, Harold Williams, stated publicly that "the UFM is through negotiating, we have negotiated for all the jobs on the Mall that we are going to....there is nothing to negotiate." However, the UFM signed one last agreement—with Plumbers Local 55 stipulating that they would sign contracts with black plumbing contractors, and that any plumber employed by such contractor would be admitted to the union, provided that they pass the requisite examinations. In addition, the agreement opened up apprenticeship opportunities to blacks who had long been excluded. But by the middle of September there were still no black plumbers, electricians, or sheetmetal workers at the site. Although several members of the UFM coordinating committee still wanted to protest the majority ruled against it, believing that the battle over labor union discrimination required an extensive plan. In a sense the battle against the unions was a failure, but it was also a victory

221 Call and Post, 10 August 1963, 27 July 1963.

128 because it signaled to white Clevelanders that the UFM represented a new voice of protest.222

Although the Mall protest yielded few results, it gave the UFM credibility in the black-working class community, while simultaneously signaling a threat to the white community. As the new school year approached the UFM turned its attention to the plight of black children in the Cleveland Public Schools. It was long recognized that conditions within the CPS for black students were blatantly discriminatory. Because of the school board's neighborhood school policy, which stipulated that each pupil attend the particular school in his/her neighborhood, the predominantly black east side schools remained overcrowded. The "relay" program implemented by the CPS in the mid- 1950s was continued throughout the early 1960s. This program divided overcrowded schools into two shifts, with each shift attending school for 3.5 hours a day. By 1961, 130 classes were operating on relay, up from 48 classes in 1959. Moreover, 1700 kindergartners were on waiting lists to begin their schooling. In essence, black children were being deprived of a full education because the CPS refused to allow black children to attend white schools.223

Because of the increase in "relay," black parents demanded an end to the unpopular program. Leading the protest were the "Relay Parents," with Daisy Craggett as Co-Chair. In a letter to school board officials, these parents expressed their disgust with the half-day program. Days earlier, the CPS had responded to criticism of the program by armouncing new school constmction plans that would solve the crisis. Nonetheless, "Relay Parents " argued that they could not continue to sacrifice their child's education while waiting for new schools to be built. "Even at best," they argued, new school construction plans would still leave "more than 3,000 of our

222 Call and Post, 10 August 1963. 223 "School Housing Report," Container 28, Folder 2, NAACP Papers.

129 children on relay schedules." As a remedy, the parents suggested that the relay system be abolished and that black students be bussed to some of the 165 vacant classrooms throughout other parts of the city "with deliberate speed. "224

After much community agitation the school board abolished the controversial relay program in the Fall of 1962. In addition, black voters supported a fifty-five million dollar bond issue to build new schools. But while these changes signaled hope, CPS officials quickly dashed this optimism by replacing the relay system with an even more questionable busing plan. The busing system, which was designed to reheve overcrowding called for teachers and students at overcrowded schools to be transported to schools that were under capacity. In theory many black parents liked the idea because it was an improvement from the relay system, and it opened up regular classroom space. This was extremely important to black parents because in many of the overcrowded schoolsl, libraries, gyms, storerooms, playrooms, and dispensaries had been converted into classroom space. Moreover, at least forty-two classes were holding sessions in basements and attics, while other unfortunate students were forced to attend class outside of the school. Classes at Doan Elementary, located in Glenville, were forced to set-up at a neighborhood branch of the local public library, and other classes at Doan were occupying space at nearby St. Mark's Church. Space for the other overcrowded schools was secured at the Salvation Army, and at the nearby

League Park Center, the former home of the local Negro League baseballt e a m . 2 2 5 Thus, busing was seen as a remedy, and on paper the program looked good considering the availability of classroom space at many of the white schools. For instance, Mayflower and Tremont elementary schools had twenty-one and twelve

224 Relay Parents to School Board, Container 28, Folder 2, NAACP Papers. 2 2 5 "Looking Backward," Cleveland Public Schools Memorandum, Container 28, Folder 4, NAACP Papers.

130 vacant classrooms respectively. In drafting the program school officials realized that it was "impractical" to bus students to the far West side, so they targeted several of the all-white East side schools, which would cut down on transportation costs and time. The initial schools targeted to receive the bussed pupils were Brett, Longfellow, Marion, Mayflower, and Murray Hill, all located on the east side, but outside of the black corridor, or segregated school area which was bounded by E. Ninth St., E. 105, St. Clair, and Kingsbury. Schools within the black boundaries were 98-100% Afiican-American on average. All five of the receiving schools were located in relatively hostile anti-black, ethnic neighborhoods, whose inhabitants who were defiantly opposed to school integration. Initially, black supporters approved of the program, but once they realized how these transported pupils were received that optimism turned to outrage.^26

It was later discovered that the transported pupils were kept totally separate from the overall student body. Once they arrived at the school with their teacher they had to remain in that particular classroom all day. They were banned from assemblies, physical-education classes, and other extracurricular activities. Moreover, if bussed students needed medical attention they were not allowed to see the nurse on site, they were bussed back to their home school to receive attention from the black nurse. In essence, they were not allowed to actively participate in the overall life of the school. When UFM officials received word of these conditions they embarked upon a battle to end de-facto segregated schools. In a resolution submitted to the Cleveland Board of Education, the UFM outlined its demands. In the preamble the UFM argued that the existence of segregation and discrimination in the Cleveland Schools was a "large and unavoidable fact," and it called upon the school board and all citizens to

226 "Available Classroom Space," Container 28, Folder 2, NAACP Papers; Cleveland Press, 21 August 1963.

13 1 recognize that "segregation from whatever cause is educationally and morally wrong," and that "it must be abolished." The resolution listed seven demands: ( 1) to either integrate or abolish the apprenticeship program at Max Hayes High; (2) to immediately integrate the transported pupils into the receiving schools; (3) to use black real-estate agents in the appraisal and acquisition of new school sites; (4) to enforce the non- discriminatory clause in contracts with firms doing construction or dealing with the system; (5) to participate fully in the federal lunch program; (6) to adopt integrated teaching materials on a city-wide basis; and (7) to establish a bureau of human relations within the system. Clearly the UFM was seeking to reform the school system by casting a wide net over a myriad of issues. In issuing the demands, Clarence Holmes, president of both the NAACP and the UFM, warned residents that if the board failed to comply "with these and other requests," that it was very possible that Cleveland would be the scene of school picketing, sit-ins, and "other dem onstrations."227

In response to the continued threats by the UFM, the school board agreed to hold a series of meetings with UFM officials. At the first meeting the UFM demanded that the transported pupils be integrated into the receiving schools, but school administrators were defensive on this issue. School Board President Ralph McCallister stated that their exclusion from school-wide activities did not represent another attempt to segregate the schools, rather it was the most sound policy decision. Supt. of Schools, William Levenson, added, "it was the easiest thing to do, we do not want to agonize anyone more than necessary by attempting to integrate." John Gallagher, school board member, argued that segregating the transported pupils was a "safety" measure. "Where they leave in a group, they are with their teacher on a bus, they go to

2 2 7 "Transcipt of Meeting bewteen the Cleveland School Board and the United Freedom Movement," Container 25, Folder 5, NAACP Papers; "Education Resolution of the United Freedom Movement to the Board of Education," Container 28, Folder 2, NAACP Papers; Cleveland Press, 21 August 1963.

132 their school, go to a classroom, meet again and go to their bus, and are taken back to their original school." In Gallagher's eyes this was much better than integrating them. "You would have us take them to the school and disseminate these children to different classrooms. Then they would have to collect all of them afterwards and get them on the bus. If one is missing, they would have to wait for him. These are the problems that could happen." Based on these comments it is clear that school officials were determined to keep the transported pupils segregated. At the close of the series of meetings that lasted roughly four weeks, the UFM set a September 23rd deadline date for the demands to be met. But for now the immediate issue was the integration of the bussed pupils.228 September 23rd came and went with little response from the school board. On the following night, the UFM called an organizational meeting where it was decided that picketing should take place "immediately," because of the "needlessly delaying" and "stalling" by the school board. Rev. David Zuverik, co-chair of the UFM school committee saw direct-action as the only weapon left available. "All we are demanding are basic rights...we seek meaningful integration....we have bent over backwards to accommodate the Board, but now we apparently have to take stronger action." Harold Williams was a bit harsher in his remarks at the meeting: "the revolution has come to town, let's hit the street like one mighty wave." Frustrated with the Board's decision not to act, the UFM decided to picket at Board headquarters downtown. "The school board has been given a golden chance to take a great step forward, " Williams added, "it hasn't; when we picket we are simply exercising an extension of the right of freedom of speech." McCallister, Board President, was clearly disgusted at the UFMs decision

228 "Transcript of Meeting between School Board and the United Freedom Movement," Container 26, Folder 5, NAACP Papers.

133 to picket. "I wasted an awful lot of time in the best of faith," he stated, obviously implying that the UFM's decision was hasty.^29

In order for the general public to be familiar with the UFM's stance, Williams and Holmes published an "open letter" in the Plain Dealer, explaining how the Board of Education did not understand the "urgency" of the "crisis." It also stated that the UFM was picketing because black children were receiving neither "EQUAL," nor "ADEQUATE," nor "QUALITY" education. The letter closed with an appeal asking all citizens to "examine their conscience," and take a stand for equal schools. Since the letter was printed in both major papers the entire city was now aware of the crisis. On the morning of the 25th approximately 250 protesters picketed the Cleveland School Board calling for an end to the discriminatory practices. Picketing continued throughout the week with the hope that by the following Monday the School Board would respond.230

Shortly thereafter the School Board agreed to all of the demands, most notably, integrating "immediately" some the transported students, and integrating all by the first of February as long as it was in keeping with "sound educational principles." It also approved appointing a Human Relations Committee that would develop plans for the integration of all students by September of 1964. In light of the Board's concession, the UFM decided to cease picketing with the understanding that the integration of the bussed pupils would reach 90-95% by the start of the second semester at the beginning of 1964.231

As the second semester got underway UFM officials were eagerly awaiting the implementation of the board's plan. However, school officials had no intent on

229 Plain Dealer, 25 September 1963. 230 Plain Dealer, 27 September 1963. 231 "The UFM v. the Cleveland School Board: An Interpretation Paper," Container 36, Folder 5, Cleveland Urban League Papers.

134 integrating the bussed pupils. Rather, they decided to implement a "diffusion" plan, which called for mixing about 20% of the transported classes with half of the classes at receiving schools for a brief 40-minute period each day. They were to remain separate at all other times. When questioned about the Board's apparent shift in plans, McCallister contended that the Board never promised to integrate the bussed pupils. "We said as long as it was in keeping with sound education principles, " he replied. In response the NAACP presented a plan for total integration of the bussed pupils, which was flatly rejected. Conversely, white parents also objected to the diffusion plan, arguing that it called for too much integration. As a result of the impasse the UFM decided to protest by direct-action at the receiving schools.232 Assisting the UFM was the Hazeldell Parents Association whose children were directly involved in the controversy. Out of the 1100 students who were being bussed to the receiving schools, approximately 940 came from Hazeldell. After token efforts to mediate the dispute failed the UFM and the HPA agreed to picket at several of the receiving schools. On Tuesday January 27th the UFM and HPA staged their first mass protest at Brett elementary school in the white-working class enclave of CoUinwood where they were met by a hostile crowd of white counter-protesters. While the march was orderly in the beginning it quickly became volatile as white hoods (presumably members of the CoUinwood Improvement Association) began to heckle and push the pickets and shouting racial slurs. Although things became testy at times, mob violence was averted. But as the picketing moved to Murray HiU elementary, located in Little

Italy, mob violence wasunavoidable.^^3

On the following Thursday the pickets arrived at Murray HiU where they were met by a white mob, numbering approximately 1400, who attacked the pickets with

232 Call and Post, 25 January 1964, 1 February 1964. 2 3 3 I b i d ;

135 bricks, guns, knives, and clubs. Innocent citizens were also caught up in the midst of the riot, among others, a black couple who just happened to be riding through the area. Their car windows were smashed in with baseball bats as a crowd of hostile whites threatened their lives. In similar fashion, Chester High had all his car windows busted out as well, but in addition, a bullet hole was later found on the top of his car. Innocent reporters were also attacked, such as Allen Howard and Kenneth Temple of the Call and Post, who narrowly escaped with their lives after being kicked and punched repeatedly. Throughout the riot the Cleveland Police Department did not arrest a single rioter. However, several pickets were arrested for defending themselves. Illustrative of the CPDs attitude toward the pickets was one officer's response to Howard's claim that he had been attacked; "You went in there and started something. You incited a riot. Don't start anything get out of here."^^^

Noticeably quiet throughout the disturbance was Mayor Ralph Locher. Many citizens felt that his failure to mediate the dispute helped spark the riots. Many of his critics also argued that the CPD should have done more to provide adequate protection. When members of the UFM demanded a public investigation into the conduct of officers at the school, Locher refused and publicly stated that the UFM was responsible for the violence. Locher's response angered UFM and HPA sympathizers. One concerned citizen, Daniel Jacobs, asked that Locher guarantee the "freedom " of citizens to gather and demonstrate peacefully. The right to gather he argued "was denied today on Murray Hill." Another observer, obviously upset at Locher's refusal to become involved, stated that he should have been elected "dog catcher" or a "shit-house cleaner," and not "mayor." This particular resident also declared that the "colored people of Cleveland will do anything possible to defeat you in the next election. " He

Call and Post, 8 February 1964.

136 continued by issuing a strong threat to Locher: "If you ever come on Hough Avenue you had better bring more police with you than you sent out to Mayfield (the site of Murray Hill), because we're out to get you. This thing is not over yet, we are buying more guns....and you will see what will happen to you and your Mayfield gangs." It was affectionately signed, "you stinker."235

Although many of Locher’s critics flooded City Hall with letters, Locher had considerable support from those who believed that the pickets provoked the incident. One Shaker Heights couple who had "carefully" watched the Murray Hill situation "admired" the way Locher handled the crisis. They specifically expressed joy at the way Locher failed to protect the pickets. "We hope you will continue to follow the good judgment for the use of the police force in the future." Another supporter was "grateful" and "pleased" at Locher's refusal to supply police protection. He credited Locher's "courage, intelligence, and firmness," in handling the situation. The letter closed by pleading with Locher not to be "swayed" by radicalism in the future. Noticeably silent on the issue were the black Democratic councilmen. After Council President Stanton imposed a gag order on the school issue, the weak-kneed black councilmen had a convenient excuse. But councilmen James Bell and John Kellogg refused to abide by the order. Bell reacted strongly to Stanton's order, "how can 1 be put in a strait jacket and not use the only forum available to me to express my disgust at the police action on Murray Hill?" he asked. "1 was elected by the people of my ward to speak up for their interests and 1 did. 1 couldn't sit still." Councilman Kellogg echoed many of these sentiments. "1 have checked the law, peaceful picketing is the right of citizens. Last week we had a gathering of people, no pickets were involved in

235 Donald Jacobs to Mayor Ralph Locher, Anonymous to Mayor Ralph Locher, Container 19, Folder 1, Ralph Locher Papers; Cleveland Press, 31 January 1964.

137 violence last week. Things were done to them, to newspapermen, TV, and Radio personnel. "23 6

In early February, the protesters took their protest to the Board of Education where they conducted a sit-in in front of the Superintendent's office from Friday to Sunday evening. While everything was peaceful over the weekend, the CPD went into action during another sit-in that following Tuesday. Apparently fed-up with the pickets, the CPD began to "club" their way through the protesters, carting them off to jail. In several instances protesters were dragged down three flights of stairs, suffering multiple injuries. Two of the protesters. Hazel Little, and May Myrick, received injuries requiring medical attention. In all, twenty protesters were arrested, but in an amazing display, they conducted an impromptu protest around police headquarters after their arraignment.237

With an entire city in the midst of the crisis Mayor Locher helped negotiate an agreement between the school board, UFM officials, the HPA, and the CRB, which called for the immediate integration of the bussed pupils into the receiving schools and the building of new schools to relieve overcrowding. This proposal was officially adopted at a special school board meeting on Febmary 10 and classes were fully integrated on March 9th wi±out any serious incidents. However, due to the concerns of white parents this was to be only a temporary measure. Shortly thereafter, school officials announced construction plans. According to the agreement the school board was to consider the recommendations of the recently created Human Relations Committee, which was recommending the building of schools in mixed areas. The Committee's official report was due in late March. However, instead of waiting for the

236 Bemiece Lee to Mayor Ralph Locher, John Katunik to Mayor Ralph Locher, Container 19, Folder 1, Locher Papers; Call and Post, 8 February 1964. 237 Call and Post, 8 February 1964.

138 report, the board announced "crash" school construction plans with the underlying intent of resegregating the students as soon as possible. When the board announced that it was going to build three new schools in the overcrowded Glenville area, concerned parents and UFM officials reacted angrily, suggesting that the CPS was once again attempting to segregate. This caused their protest to shift from the integration of the bussed pupils to the new school construction plans.^^s The UFM not only objected to the construction plans on racial grounds, but also on the grounds of good fiscal pohcy and safety. First, they wondered why the board was building new schools in the Hazeldell area when there was a 17% vacancy throughout all elementary schools. In addition, they argued that since it cost 1.25 million to build a new school, why not continue to bus children at approximately $35,000 a year. UFM officials also questioned the feasibility of the proposed sites. The proposed Woodside site was not big enough for a playground, while the proposed Lakeview school was located on a major thoroughfare, which was due to be widened in the coming years, potentially jeopardizing the school's existence. The UFM was not alone in criticizing the school board's building plans. The City Planning Commission echoed the same concerns. But nonetheless, in an attempt to resegregate the students as quickly as possible, the board hastened its system-wide construction plans by dismissing two architects who had been hired to design several new schools, and replacing their plans with the designs for another school. The UFM characterized these moves as an attempt to "appease the residents of CoUinwood and Murray Hill," as opposed to meeting "the educational needs of the Glenvillechildren."^39

238 Ruth Turner, CORE Chairperson to Community Organizations, Container 29, Folder 3, NAACP Papers; Kenneth Rose, The Politics of Social Reform in C le v e la n d , Ph.D. Dissertation, Case Western Reserve University, 1987. 239 "Board of Education Building Program, " Container 29, Folder 11, NAACP Papers; "Statement," Container 29, Folder 1, NAACP Papers; Turner to Participating Organizations, Container 29, Folder 3, NAACP Papers.

139 In response to the construction plans the UFM called for a moratorium on all school construction. In a circular distributed to the media, the UFM made it clear that its purpose was not to stop school construction, but rather "to start it rapidly on a bold, new, and more satisfactory direction." The UFM wanted the school board to "restudy" its housing program "with the help of whatever experts and advice are available." While the UFM considered their request in the best interests of the students, the larger white community thought otherwise. Many citizens considered their demands unreasonable. The political editor of theCleveland Press remarked: "These are the very people who have complained about the lack of adequate school facilities for their children. Now they have issued an ultimatum demanding a slow-down in providing these facilities." The editor further stated the board's actions were "proper" because it would end the "awkward" system of bussing. Furthermore, he argued, brand-new school buildings could hardly be considered "inadequate " or "unequal" this was just a transparent and deliberate attempt to "sabotage" the Cleveland educational system.^'^o Board officials agreed because on two separate occasions it rejected the UFMs and the Human Relations Committee plea to halt plans and they proceeded to acquire and excavate property for construction. Once again the UFM and HPA parents decided to protest by direct-action, but this time they picketed at the particular school construction sites. The HPA initiated the protest at the end of March, and by the first week of April the UFM had joined them. On April 7th the picketing shifted from the Rosedale site to the Lakeview site. While picketing on April 7th several individual protesters decided to use a dangerous obstructionist technique of throwing themselves into the path of construction machinery, hoping to halt construction. But in the course of the melee, Bruce Klunder, a 27 year-old minister, and CORE activist, was crushed

240 "UFM Press Release," Container 28/Folder 5, NAACP Papers; Cleveland Press, 28 February 1964.

140 to death after laying in the path of a moving bulldozer. Although the operator of the tractor tried to stop, his reaction was too slow, killing Klunder instantly. Hours after Klunder’s death a semi-riot took place as construction crews continued working in spite of the tragedy. Several skirmishes broke out between UFM supporters, construction crews, and police officers, as UFM supporters and sympathizers were seeking retribution for Klunder's d e a th .•

In spite of Klunder's death, school officials stuck with their original plans, even nullifying an agreement reached on April 15th that called for a two-week moratorium on school construction in exchange for a halt to picketing. Instead of negotiating, the school board headed to the courts to secure an injunction disallowing interference with constmction crews as well as calling for the erection of a ten-foot wall to keep protesters out, while limiting picketing to ten persons at a time. With this avenue of protest taken away, UFM supporters conducted another set of sit-ins at City Hall and board headquarters to keep the spotlight on the issue of de-facto segregated schools. But more importantly, the UFM called for an April 20th "Protest Against Segregation" boycott of the schools. They asked black parents to keep their children out of school for that day, and instead, send them to all-black "Freedom Schools," where they would learn black history and culture. Parents responded to the call in mass numbers as over 92% of black pupils stayed out of public schools while attending one of the eighty or more freedoms schools in area churches and neighborhood centers.^'^^

The boycott was a victory for the UFM, black parents, and black children, who interpreted it as a mandate to change the board policy of neighborhood schools. But

2^1 Cleveland Press, 3 March 1964; "An Interpretive Paper of the Cleveland Public Schools vs. the United Freedom Movement, Container 36, Folder 5, CUL Papers; Call and Post, 11 April 1964; "Cleveland Civil Rights Report," 30 June 1964, Container 39, Folder 4, CUL Papers. Rose, "Social Reform," 94; "School Boycott," Container 28, Folder 5, NAACP P a p ers.

141 with their options of direct-protest constrained by the courts, UFM legal advisors attempted to use the legal system to block the board's construction plans. They lost an appeal of the restraining order on the number of pickets at the school site, and later dropped a suit challenging the plans as inadequate. A third and final suit, filed by the NAACP on behalf of Charles Craggett and several school children, charged the school board with fostering school segregation, but it became entangled inside the legal system. Thus, the school board withstood the UFMs onslaught and continued its policy of neighborhood schools until cross-town bussing was initiated in the 1970s.243 Although the battle to end de-facto segregated schools was unsuccessful, it signaled to the larger community that the civil rights movement had come to Cleveland. No longer did Clevelanders have to look at Birmingham, Selma, or Jackson, to wimess mass- protest, direct-action. It was now in their own backyard. V While the UFM battled the CPS, State Legislator Carl B. Stokes was busy assembling a black power base on the east side. Unlike several of the black councilmen who refused to become involved in the activities of the UFM, Stokes often traveled back to Cleveland to participate in direct-action protest. Yet by holding a state office Stokes had a considerable advantage over local politicians; since while away in Columbus he was firee of the day-to-day pressures the black community often placed on their councilmen. By being the first black Democratic councilman elected to the General Assembly, Stokes was considered a "pioneer" by many black citizens, and in a sense Stokes was not often mentioned in the same breath as other politicians. Stokes assumed a more independent posture than other black politicians since he did not owe his 1962 election to the party machinery, but rather to the political injustice of 1960.

Rose, "Social Reform," 95-96.

142 Because of Stokes’ excellent freshman record in Columbus, he easily won re- election in November, 1964. After his inauguration the Supreme Court issued an edict calling for Congressional redistricting and reapportioning the state's own legislative districts. Although the high court issued the ruling it permitted the Ohio Republican- controlled legislature to draw the lines. On the state issue. Governor James Rhodes, Republican, drafted a plan that gerrymandered the existing districts to favor the rural- GOP dominated areas by giving them more representation than the more urbanized strong-Democrat districts. Democrats denounced the plan as discriminatory, but Stokes liked it because under this plan, three black representatives would be elected from Cuyahoga County. Although he was pressured to vote against the bill by party chair Al "Boss" Porter, Stokes backed the Republicans and voted for the bill and it narrowly passed.^'»'*

Shortly thereafter Stokes broke party ranks again when the subject of Congressional redistricting was raised. Prior to the debate Cuyahoga County was divided into four Congressional districts, with the black community solidly grouped in the twenty-first. Since both parties had representatives in two of the four districts. Democratic party leader Al Porter saw this as an opportunity to divide the black electorate, giving democrat supporters more leverage in heavily Republican area. But once again Stokes led a chorus of criticism against the plan because he felt that it diluted black voting power while virtually nullifying any possibility of black representation in Congress. Stokes' criticism was supported by other black leaders such as the NAACP's Harold Williams who drafted another plan that kept black voters in the twenty-first, while not disturbing the current two-Democrat, two-Republican balance of

Stokes, "Promises," 67, 69; Prenab Chatterjee, Local Leadership in Black Communities, (Cleveland: Case Western University Press, 1975),118, bibliographical data unknown.

143 the Cuyahoga County delegation. At a house hearing on the issue Stokes and other leaders were blunt in their opposition to the plan: "We'll be frank with you," Stokes stated, "we hope to someday elect a Negro Congressman from the twenty-first district." Councilman Kellogg saw the measure in more psychological terms by arguing that the possibility of aspiring to Congress would give "the young Negro in politics some hope. We can get better candidates if there is hope that he can rise from a precinct committeeman to US. Congress." In spite of Stokes' support of the Republican package, the Democrat-sponsored plan passed by a slim margin. However, early that next year Stokes assembled a group of NAACP lawyers who filed suit in federal court charging that the plan violated the one-man, one-vote principle. The plan was eventually overruled by the Supreme Court three years later. 2^5 Stokes' opposition to his party's redistricting/reapportioning plans cost him white-moderate support, but it was worth it in order to solidify his power base in the black community. After the redistricting debates Stokes' popularity rose throughout Cleveland and although he was an effective voice in the State House, he was growing tired of a state legislature that neglected urban concerns. Subsequently, he began to spend more and more time in Cleveland with his constituents, with hopes of finding a better way to have a direct influence on the lives of black Clevelanders. As the Locher administration continued to ignore the black community there was talk in black political circles about running a black candidate since Cleveland's black community made up 37% of the overall population. Many of the grass-roots political experts knew that the problems affecting black residents required someone other than Locher in City Hall. In February 1965 former Councilwoman Jean Capers, and Geraldine Williams, a long-time organizer of domestic workers, approached Stokes

Stokes, "Promises," 71; Call and Post, 21 November 1964, 28 November 1964.

144 about entering the race. Although Stokes was not the most experienced politician, he represented something many of the other black politicians did not, independence and sincerity. For example, in March 1965, five of the ten black councilmen—Carr, Forbes, Gaines, Jackson, and Armstrong—delayed support of Stokes' State fair- housing bill. In addition, Carr, Armstrong, and Forbes filibustered Councilman Kellogg’s proposal to honor Martin King's Nobel Peace Prize by proclaiming "Martin

Luther King Day." Tactics like this made Stokes even more appealing.^^^ VI Stokes' tenure in Columbus signaled to many citizens that he was willing to jeopardize his own political career in order to advance the status of black Clevelanders. In essence, many citizens realized that Stokes was not a bossed candidate. He was his own man; the type of man needed at City Hall. But according to Stokes, Capers' selection of him was full of ulterior motives. In his memoirs Stokes recalls that Capers' 1959 election loss left her distraught and bitter, and now by drafting Stokes this would be her way back to the circles of p>ower. Stokes was familiar with this type of "gimmick." He realized that Capers was following in the long tradition of clientist politics. "You put a man you know is not going to win into a race to scare the incumbent, then you go to the party bosses and agree to pull your man out if they will give you something else you want." In Stokes' eyes Capers was operating a pure "hustle." Nonetheless, Stokes liked the idea but told Capers and Williams that in order for him to enter the race they needed to collect 20,000 signatures. Stokes requested this so that he could gauge his support. But behind the scenes Stokes had already decided to run. After the initial meeting with Capers and Williams, Stokes and Al Sweeney, political editor of theCall and Post, began making city-wide projections based upon his

Call and Post, 20 March 1965.

145 previous legislative races. With the strong possibility of a four-candidate race, the 39% black voting bloc "loomed large" in Stokes' eyes.^'^’^

Williams and Capers had tremendous difficulty collecting the 20,000 signatures largely because of the size of their organization. By the first week of May they were only able to produce 6700 names. Although they had a small number of signatures. Capers informed the local press that they had collected over 30,000 signatures. This tactic was further exploited at a May 13th press conference where Stokes formally announced that he would enter the mayor's race as an Independent. At the press conference Stokes presented the draft petitions in a "Michigan bankroll, " with blank petitions sandwiched between real ones. Fortunately, none of the large gathering of reporters asked to see them. Although Capers spearheaded the drive, many of Stokes' political fiiends, including William O. Walker, editor and publisher of the Call and Post suggested that he distance himself from Capers. Stokes followed his advice and asked Walker, and Dr. Kenneth Clement, a prominent politically active surgeon, to head the "Stokes for Mayor Campaign."^"^^ Stokes' declaration to run as an Independent was a strategic move. Since Locher, the incumbent, was a Democrat, Stokes figured that he would be disadvantaged in a head-to-head primary race. Plus, by running as an Independent, it would only cause his stature to grow more in the black community, which was sick and tired of politically-bossed candidates. In a memo announcing his candidacy, Stokes wrote that he expected to be an "irritant" to those who favored the status quo, while challenging those who believed in growth. He also listed seven general areas of concern. The first was urban renewal, which he argued, needed to be "revised," "revamped," and "reorganized." Also listed were programs related to housing, city

2'^'^ Stokes, "Promises," 82. Call and Post, 15 May 1965, 22 May 1965; Stokes, "Promises," 84.

146 services, and fair employment. But in order to officially enter the race as an Independent, Stokes needed 16,000 signed petitions by June 30th. But by then, the Stokes campaign become a cultural event, as ± e Stokes team presented over 32,000 signatures by the deadline.2‘^9

The reaction to Stokes' candidacy in the black community was generally positive, and it picked up steam after Mayor Locher once again alienated his black constituents. The conflict arose over Police Chief Richard Wagner's testimony at a State House hearing on the death penalty. At the hearing, Wagner asserted that the Revolutionary Action Movement (RAM), was planning to "overthrow the government of the United States and incidentally shoot all Caucasians," and that abolishing the death penalty would make it easier for groups like RAM to recruit members. Instantly, the UFM wrote Locher a letter requesting a meeting to discuss the controversial statements, but Locher ignored the request and UFM officials conducted a series of sit- ins at City Hall, and on one occasion they picketed in front of his home. Not only did Locher refuse to meet with the UFM delegation, he supported his Police Chief: "the remarks that were attributed to him (Wagner) are justified and substantiated by articles in at least two publications."2j0 After three weeks of unsuccessful attempts to meet with Locher, the UFM finally gave up, asking that black voters withhold their support of his candidacy. "Mayor Locher clearly does not represent all of the people of Cleveland and therefore must be judged unfit for the responsibilities of the office," said UFM director Harold Williams. Without question Locher's neglect of racial concerns made the Stokes campaign extremely attractive.

Plain Dealer, 14 May 1965; "Speech announcing Candidacy," Container 2, Folder 39, CBS Papers. Plain Dealer, 6 June 1965; Cleveland Press, 8 June 1965.

147 Stokes' official candidacy was greeted anxiously by many members of the black community. Following his announcement, the Call and Post ran headlines such as, "Stokes Can Win," and "Stokes' Petitions Show Political Maturity." In another article Stokes was labeled the "Golden Boy " of Cleveland's black Democrat politicians. At a "celebration" in his honor following the filing date Stokes warned his supporters to close ranks for the upcoming campaign. "I will not become embroiled in ward fights or councilmanic races....we caimot afford to become divisive....our objective is City Hall. " The local Democratic party did not like this posture, and on several occasions asked Stokes to withdraw his candidacy. It was rumored that Louis Martin, Democratic National Committee adviser on Negro Affairs, was being sent to Cleveland to persuade Stokes to step down. Both the Johnson administration and the DNC were concerned that a Democratic loss in Cleveland, an historic stronghold, would result in a loss of "prestige" for LBJ. Apparently, DNC officials were not optimistic about Stokes' chances of winning. They assumed that his candidacy would attract traditional Democrat voters away from Locher. But even with pressure from Washington, Stokes remained in the race-with the intent of winning.^^ i There were five candidates in the 1965 mayoral race: Locher and McElroy, both Democrats, Ralph Perk, Republican State Auditor, School Board President Ralph McCallister, and Stokes, both Independents. Since Stokes filed as an independent he was not required to participate in the primaries, but was directly placed on the ballot for the General Election in November. Throughout the summer, Stokes spent the majority of his time solidifying has power base on the black East side. The Stokes campaign got a big boost in July when Martin Luther King traveled to Cleveland to attract publicity for the Special Project Committee for Voter Registration and Citizenship, which had

251 Call and Post. 22 June 1965, 3 July 1965; Cleveland Press, 4 June 1965.

148 just launched its campaign to add 40,000 new black voters to the books. Although the Committee conducted many registration drives throughout the country it appears that this particular drive was strategically timed with the intent of aiding Stokes. Whether or not Stokes asked them to come is unknown, but Stokes certainly welcomed the idea.252 Since Stokes was primarily running a grass-roots campaign he spent much of his time attempting to solidify his black support. He and his advisers knew that Locher would get the moderates, McCallister the conservatives. Perk the small GOP clique, and he would get the black vote. With over one-third of the electorate black Stokes thought that his chances were pretty good. But if Stokes thought that he would get the support of the city's black councilmen, he was wrong. All throughout the Summer many black councilmen refused to support Stokes. The only two black Democratic councilmen who endorsed him were John Armstrong and George White. In some ways this did not surprise Stokes because he realized that the remainder of the councilmen literally licked the boots of "Boss Porter." When questioned about their lack of support for Stokes, several of them argued that it was payback because Stokes had embarrassed them by chairing a panel titled "Have Negro Politicians Been Most Effective in Advancing the Negro Cause." Although eight of the ten black councilmen did not support Stokes, many ward committeeman and precinct workers actively worked for him by holding ward meetings to discuss his candidacy.253 Because Stokes was the so-called "fringe" candidate he received very little publicity from the major media outlets. Throughout the Summer, the two major dailies virtually ignored his campaign, while giving the other four candidates significant coverage. To hurdle this obstacle Stokes waged a highly visible campaign, meeting voters in person whenever given the opportunity. Throughout the campaign, Stokes

252 Call and Post, 17 July 1965. 2 5 3 Plain Dealer, 12 October 1965.

149 appeared at churches, community centers, parks, and people's homes to attract supporters. Although some political experts argue that this may have hurt his campaign, in actuality it forced Stokes to do what he did best, use his skill of persuasion to sell himself. At many of these appearances on the black east side Stokes had little trouble capturing the crowd with his warm personality, good looks, and expensive suits. Stokes was even more attractive to the black electorate because many felt that he understood their concerns by virtue of his background. Moreover, many were already familiar with Stokes' record in Columbus, and these two factors made it even easier for Stokes to seal the black vote. Since the General Election was scheduled for November 2nd, Stokes did not begin to actively campaign until the middle of September. On September 20 Stokes shocked the experts by calling a press conference challenging Locher to a debate. More importantly, Stokes publicly accused Locher of neglecting the black community. Stokes' challenge stemmed from Locher's appearances before black audiences during which he claimed that his administration reflected "fairness and equality for all of Cleveland's citizens," and that he has aimed to govern for all people regardless of race. Stokes elaborated on his charges in a "white paper," which the Call and Post printed in full on the front page of its September 25th issue. Prior to going into detail Stokes laid out three basic facts: (1) Cleveland is the only major city in the Industrial North that does not have a Negro serving in the cabinet; (2) Cleveland is the only city North of the Mason- Dixon Line that maintains a segregated police department and has the worst promotional record for Negro Policeman; (3) the racially discriminatory hiring and employment practices of the Locher administration has been matched by

150 Locher’s lack of leadership in racial crisis....which has brought about the deterioration in race relations.^^'*

Stokes called the failure of Locher to appoint a black cabinet member, a black department head, or a black commissioner, "inexcusable" in a city whose population was 37% black. One-third of the city's population, consequently, had no "voice" in the day-to-day policy decisions at City Hall. Stokes labeled the police department's failure to promote black officers as the most "shameful" record of cities outside the deep South. Only 175 black officers served out of a total force of 2100, and of that number there were only two Sergeants, and no black lieutenants, captains, or inspectors. To make matters worse, Stokes pointed out, many of these officers were not assigned to the white west side, nor were they regularly assigned to zone cars in the Downtown district, and no black officers were assigned to vice squads in the black populated districts. Stokes felt that black citizens could fairly question if white officers could accurately respond to racial situations "when he works on a force where racial discrimination is followed against his fellow officers." Lastly, Stokes blamed Locher for the failure in amicable race-relations by citing his lack of leadership in several situations: ( 1) his refusal to participate in the Freedom March; (2) the mall construction and school crisis; (3) his refusal to meet with UFM officials after Wagner's remarks; and (4) his failure in urban renewal. Stokes argued that Locher's failures hurt every citizen, but especially African-Americans who were trying to secure fairness and equality. Stokes purposely issued his white paper on the eve of the primary election that pitted Locher against McElroy, with the intent of damaging Locher's cam paign.255

Part of the Stokes campaign strategy was to encourage black voters to support McElroy

254 Call and Post, 25 September 1965. 255 Ibid.

151 in the primary to insure Locher’s defeat, and this they did. But Locher still managed to win by only a paltry 7,000 votes, although he was given all the major endorsements. Stokes supporters interpreted this showing as a mandate to remove Locher from office, calling the Locher showing a "victory in sheer numbers," and a virtual "repudiation" of his leadership.256

Stokes' official campaign began on October 1st as the Stokes for Mayor Committee sponsored a $10 a plate fund-raiser at the Sheraton in Downtown Cleveland. Approximately 1,000 supporters, mostly black, attended the event, eager to give financial and emotional support. In what was characterized as the biggest political event in the city's history, there was plenty of singing and chanting of parodies to popular songs aimed at Locher. One song in particular referred to Locher as a puppet on the knee of Boss Porter. Although many enjoyed the chanting, singing, and fellowship, many were there eager to hear Stokes outline his platform. In a prepared 13-point outline Stokes laid out his plan for Cleveland to reach its potential. He discussed job creation, equitable pay for city employees, expanding the city's health department, the establishment of neighborhood centers to meet the recreational needs of children, and the prospect of enacting a .05% value added manufacturers tax to increase the city's revenue.257

As the election geared up Stokes gained more and more popularity, causing the democratic party leadership to take steps to ruin his campaign. Days after Stokes' kick- off dinner. Council President Stanton called a meeting with the black Democratic councilmen to discuss the poor Locher showing in the primary and how it could be improved. It was rumored in the black community that Stanton offered bribe money to

256 q q H Post, 25 September 1965, 2 October 1965. 257 Call and Post, 2 October 1965, 9 October 1965; "Speech by Carl B. Stokes, I October 1965," Container 2, Folder 39, CBS Papers.

152 these council members in exchange for their public support of Locher. The accuracy of these reports is unknown, but Stanton admitted that he expected all of them to go along with Locher, the organizational candidate. When questioned as to whether or not they "pledged" their support to Locher at the meeting, several gave particularly vague and evasive answers. Many of the black councilmen were reluctant to support Stokes because they felt that he had no chance of winning, jeopardizing their careers if he Iost.258

Stokes attempted to counter Stanton's tactics by inviting the black councilmen to a private dinner meeting. Only three of the invitees showed up, John Armstrong, George White, and Council Majority Leader Charlie Carr. While Armstrong and White agreed to support Stokes, Carr flatly refused. What makes Carr's reactions so puzzling is that he initially encouraged Stokes to enter the race. Now he withheld support because he was under the influence of Stanton and Porter. Equally non-supportive were Councilmen Clarence Gaines and Warren Gilliam who not only announced their support of Locher, but were actively campaigning for him in their respective w a r d s '.2 5 9

Al Porter was also actively engaging in an attempt to sabotage the Stokes campaign through the pages of the Cuyahoga County Democratic Executive Committee Newsletter. In two issues released prior to the election Porter emphasized Stokes' near-record absentee rate during his second term in the State House. Porter stated that Stokes missed 70% of all committee meetings and 60% of roll calls. Porter also dismissed Stokes' much bally-hooed legislative accomplishments as "far from impressive," because many of the bills he sponsored "were designed to aid criminals in jail." Porter also used "pressure " tactics to draw support away from Stokes. It was

258 Call affd Post. 9 October 1965. 259 Plain Dealer, 12 October 1965; Call and Post, 23 October 1965; Carl Stokes to Councilman Charlie Carr, Container 3, Folder 41, CBS Papers.

153 rumored that black city employees were threatened with their jobs if they did not vote for Locher. They were instructed to actively support the Locher campaign either by distributing pro-Locher literature, wearing "Locher for Mayor" buttons, or by placing a Locher bumper sticker on their car. Needless to say. Porter and Stanton were pulling out all the stops to re-elect Locher.^^°

While Stanton and Porter worked tirelessly to derail the Stokes campaign, white west-side vandals also did their fair share by defacing several of Stokes’ billboards that had been strategically placed in white areas. In a strikingly similar scenario that occurred in one of his earlier campaigns, three separate campaign billboards were defaced in the span of one week. The first billboard, located in the CoUinwood area, was damaged when anti-Stokes supporters crossed out the word "Mayor," and replaced it with "Nigger," while the second defacing occurred at West 32nd St. and Clark Ave. where someone covered up the name "Stokes," with black electrical tape. The third act of vandalism occurred at West 130th St. and Bellaire Ave. where Stokes' eyes were covered with the name "McCallister.

The defacement of the billboards in predominantly white areas was representative of a larger issue faced by the Stokes team, how to attract white support. Since Stokes was operating on a shoestring budget of $44,000, he had little opportunity to conduct a highly visible public relations campaign. Thus, he had to sell himself in person to white west-side voters. In approaching white voters, Stokes was battling two issues, the traditional racism of white ethics, and the intensified negativism of civil rights activity. As political scientist William Nelson, Jr., notes, Stokes fully understood that although he benefited from a renewed black consciousness he could

260 "Cuyahoga County Democratic Executive Committee Newsletter," 21 October 1965, 27 October 1965, Container 5, Folder 75, CBS Papers; Call and Post, 3 0 October 1965. 261 Call and Post, 16 October 1965.

154 also be the recipient of white backlash. But the Stokes team was convinced that if he could get exposure in white areas, then he could draw white support because then white voters would see that he wasn't a black radical, but a well-educated black man. However, an entree into white political gatherings proved difficult because he had chosen to run as an Independent; this gave West side Democratic Ward leaders a good excuse to bar him from ward meetings, although he had been a life-long Democrat.-^^ Stokes' advisors had him campaign two days per week on the west side and they all agreed that he should address the race issue up front. At several of Stokes' west side appearances he opened with the following statement: "I want to get the Negro question out of the way; then we can talk about the issues. My election would not mean a Negro takeover, it would not mean the establishment of a Negro cabinet. My election would mean the mayor just happened to come from the Negro group." Stokes employed this same strategy at several debates prior to the election. At the City Club Fomm on October 22nd Stokes told the crowd that he did not run as a Negro, but as a Clevelander thinking in the best interests of aU. He further stressed that he did not want support just because he was a Negro, and that he also hoped no white person would vote against him precisely for this same reason. To placate white fears he again emphasized that his election would not mean black rule, or the establishment of "a subsidiary office of the civil rights movement in City Hall."^^^

Thus Stokes pursued a dual strategy in rare form placate white fears by diminishing the race issue, and draw black support by campaigning as a "brother." But not everyone was fooled, especially Pat O'Malley, Cleveland AFL-CIO President, and members of the National Association for the Advancement of White People (NAAWP). Late in the campaign it was discovered that O'Malley and representatives of the

262 N elson, "Electing," p. 100. 263 Ibid.

155 NAAWP were telling white voters that Locher was the only "safe" candidate, and that white voters needed to "unite" behind a single candidate in order to beat Stokes, "the Nigger." When O'Malley was confronted with these facts he responded; "Stokes is the racist in this campaign." He further argued that when Stokes was in the presence of reporters, he dismissed race, "but in the Central areas," he added, "he is telling Negroes they must vote for him because his skin is the same color as theirs." Regardless of OMalley's motives his characterization of the Stokes campaign was entirely accurate.264

As the campaign drew to a close the Call and Post called for all black voters to "unite" as never before behind Stokes. In a dramatic front-page appeal on the eve of the election, W.O. Walker placed Stokes' destiny in the hands of "his own people." "Will the Negro voters give him the support that he so well deserves?" Walker asked. In Walker's eyes black Clevelanders were going to be judged on their support of Stokes for years to come. Walker believed that this election was an opportunity for black Clevelanders to be "participants in a historic decision," and that they could no longer "dodge the issue," or "duck the challenge." Walker ended the appeal by stating; "The Negro who votes against Stokes is a traitor; the Negro who cowardly stays home to keep from voting is worse. When the polls open on Tuesday the Negro race, not

Carl Stokes, will be ontrial. "265

The election was close throughout the evening, but Ralph Locher narrowly edged out Stokes by the small margin of 2,458 votes. Locher received 87,858 or 36.7% of the votes, Stokes, 85,178 or 35.8%, Perk, 41,000 or 17.1%, and McCallister, 22,650, or 9.5% of the vote. Stokes capitalized on the record-high turnout of black voters as he received 85.4% of the black vote, but he polled poorly in

264 Cleveland Press, 23 October 1965; Plain Dealer, 23 October 1965. 265 Call and Post, 30 October 1965.

156 white areas, only receiving approximately 3% of the vote in all-white areas. Although the white vote was split, it was not as evenly split as Stokes had hoped. For Stokes to win Perk needed to attract more white voters. Although Stokes lost, he considered it a "victory in defeat," because the black community was now mobilized like never before.266

XII Stokes' early political career was in a sense shaped by the developments within Cleveland's black community. While Stokes was serving in the Statehouse black residents were increasingly applying pressure on city officials. Thousands of ordinary working-class men and women took their protest to the streets affirming their right to first-class citizenship. This increased political activity inspired black voters to support the mayoral candidacy of Carl B. Stokes. In his try at the mayor's seat he received the full support of his community, not because he was black, but because he did not represent a sell-out to the white political and business establishment. Rather, he symbolized black political independence.

266 Board of Elections, Voting Returns; Call and Post, 13 November 1965.

157 CHAPTER 4

RACIAL VIOLENCE AND THE ATTAINMENT OF POWER, I966-I967

Although Stokes was unsuccessful in his 1965 try at the mayor's seat, his near victory propelled him into the national spotlight. Throughout late 1965 and early 1966 Stokes hit the lecture circuit as his opinion on civil rights and urban problems was in demand throughout the country. As Stokes was touring the country speaking and carrying out his duties in the General Assembly, the conditions on the black East side continued to worsen. The climax of racial tension resulted in the Hough riots which lasted four days in July 1966. The combination of racial violence and Stokes' popularity would enable him to make history as the first black mayor of a major American city. I As Stokes became an expert on urban issues, he also used his newly found platform to attack several area politicians. Stokes opened up the year by blasting the civil rights record of James Stanton, president of Cleveland City Council, who was rumored to be the Democratic nominee for governor. Bom in 1930 on Cleveland's West side, Stanton learned politics at an early age from his uncle, Edward Stanton, former Cleveland City Prosecutor and prominent lawyer. After graduating from the University of Dayton in 1957 he returned to his hometown, and two years later at the age of twenty-seven he was elected to Cleveland City Council. Early in his career the Democrat from Ward 4 exercised

158 considerable independence when he opposed the 1962 mayoral candidacy of Ralph Locher. This action led to his banishment from official Democratic party affairs. The breach was healed however, in 1963 when the Irishman engineered a successful coup ousting long­ time City Council President Jack P. Russell from the powerful post. With the help of several black councilpersons Stanton used his power to control the city’s legislative body. Although his name was mentioned as a possible candidate in the 1965 mayor's race, he declined, preferring instead to retain his City Council presidency. Once Stokes entered the mayor's office Stanton played race politics and emerged as his chief opponent.-^^ While speaking at an Akron NAACP meeting, Stokes labeled Stanton an anti-civil rights legislator for his historic opposition to local and state fair housing initiatives. The "immature," "ambitious," "brash," and "impudent" Stanton, according to Stokes, had no qualifications whatsoever for Governor. "I don't believe that we have the time nor can we afford to provide in-service training for young Stanton." Stokes felt that a Stanton nomination would have long-standing negative ramifications: "It would be an affront and an insult to every Negro in Ohio...it would be disastrous to the Democratic party in Ohio." Stokes not only attacked Stanton's civil rights record, but also his efforts to derail the Stokes campaign the previous fall. The attacks on Stanton made headlines in the local press, and weeks later Stokes gained more headlines by attacking Locher. In February 1966, the financially strapped city government miraculously discovered 1.6 million dollars that had been previously awarded for pay raises. The "discovery" angered Stokes who felt that this was typical of Locher's "irresponsibility." He also felt that this "carelessness" would cause Clevelanders to lose "confidence" in local government. In the wake of his attacks on Locher, Stokes stated that he would feel

267 Cleveland Press, 30 April 59, 18 September 65, 27 November 63, 30 November 63; Plain Dealer, 12 January 64.

159 obligated to run for mayor if Locher continued with the same "mediocre form of government. "268

Verbal attacks on city officials served a number of purposes. First, they kept Stokes' name in the headlines. By constantly levying attacks, he was given an extended platform, and while he was attacking he was given an opportunity to pose solutions for the city's problems. Second, these attacks further distanced Stokes from the establishment- oriented black politicians. Many black councilmen in particular were afraid to attack Locher or Stanton, but Stokes did so with consistency. Because of his constant exposure, Stokes was often mentioned for higher political offices. In March of 1966 Councilmen M. Morris Jackson led a drive to get Stokes a federal judgeship in response to LBJs desire to place an Afirican-American on the local bench to allegedly "soothe troubled relations" between the Democratic party and black Cleveland. Jackson's push for Stokes was interesting since Jackson openly supported Locher in the 1965 mayoral campaign. Although Stokes expressed no desire for a federal Judgeship he was selected in mid-May to lead one of twelve workshops on civil rights sponsored by the White House. Stokes remained in the national spotlight by being the keynote speaker at the meeting of the National Alliance of Postal and Federal Employees and at the annual convention of the NAACP.269 gut while Stokes was solidifying his power base throughout the country the conditions on the East side of Cleveland grew worse by the day. II Largely due to the school crisis and Stokes' near victory, the United States Commission on Civil Rights made a stop in Cleveland during the first week of April to

268 Cleveland Press, 9January 66, 10 January 66, 12 January 66, 16 February 66. 269 Plain Dealer, 15 March 66; Cleveland Press, 28 May 66; Speech by Carl B. Stokes to the NAACP Annual Convention, 7 July 66, Container 1, Folder 7, CBS P a p e r s.

160 conduct hearings to determine the extent of Cleveland's race problem. Four areas of discrimination were discussed: education, housing, employment, and police-community relations. Many members of the black community saw this as a golden opportunity to air their grievances against Locher and his administration. Likewise Mayor Locher and his lieutenants saw this hearing as negative public relations for a city that up until then had avoided a large-scale race riot. Over the course of seven days black citizens told tales of inadequate housing, segregation, job discrimination, and police-brutality. Although all of these issues were of great importance, police-community relations aroused the black community like none other. Harold Williams, former secretary of the UFM and the NAACP, led off the session by listing several grievances, including police brutality, insufficient police protection, and inadequate investigation of complaints. After reciting these abuses he presented a 1961 memorandum given to city officials by the NAACP concerning police-community relations. This five-year old resolution recommended several measures, including a police review board and a human relations training program.

Williams illustrated to the commission that the NAACP had notified the CPD long ago about ways to improve relations with the black community but the CPD ignored the recommendations. After Williams and others told tales of dual law enforcement, brutality, and harassment. Safety Director McCormick and Police Chief Wagner took the stand. Throughout the questioning both McCormick and Wagner appeared uncomfortable as they constantly evaded and rephrased questions. When a member of the commission asked if any member of the police force had been disciplined for urmecessary use of force in the last three years, for example, Wagner repeated the question, went into a lengthy discussion of unrelated police procedures, and finally stated, "I do not recollect." Wagner responded in similar fashion when a commission member asked if black patrolmen worked in all parts of the city. After repeating the question he cited an unrelated 1903 ordinance requiring that an equal number of officers be stationed on both sides of the Cuyahoga river. Then after

161 rambling about confusing assignment procedures, Wagner went on to admit that black patrolmen only worked in black areas. The testimony of Wagner and McCormick gave legitimacy to many of the complaints by black Clevelanders toward the CPD over the years. Their statements proved that many of the discriminatory administrative policies of the CPD were fiilly approved and sanctioned by the top officials of the department. But in these hearings more damaging testimony was to come.^^o

During the session the committee heard Glen Marks, a student, tell how he and a fiiend were beaten by policeman after being arrested at a Greyhound Bus station where they worked. Marks testified that officers told him and a friend to leave the premises even after he and his friend identified themselves as Greyhound employees. After informing the officers that they were waiting for a ride home, the officer kicked his friend and shouted "what are you going to do about it," to which Hill responded, "If you didn't have a gun on you, you wouldn't go around kicking people." After the two were taken downtown for booking, the treatment got even worse. While in the interrogation room he and Hill were beaten for several minutes, during which Hill was forced to bark like a dog. After acquiescing to the demand, the police remarked, "that's right, you bark like a black dog." The two were eventually charged with disorderly conduct. Another witness, James Malone, told a harrowing tale of police neglect. In August of 1965 Malone witnessed a car accident in the vicinity of Mt. Sinai hospital. After seeing one of the passengers bleeding, he ran to the emergency room area to get assistance from an on-duty patrolmen. Upon entering the hospital he observed the four officers drinking coffee and watching TV. He asked for help to which one responded, "can't you see we are having coffee," to which Malone replied^"I don't really care...this is an emergency." Although they did not like

United States Commission on Civil Rights, Hearing Held in Cleveland, OH, April 1-7, 1966, 514-5, 607; United States Commission on Civil Rights, Ohio Advisory Committee, Cleveland Subcommittee, Cleveland's Unfinished Business in its Inner-City: A Report (Cleveland: The Subcommittee, 1968).

162 Malone's tone of voice they exited the hospital toward the scene, constantly pushing and shoving Malone while addressing him as "boy." Once outside, two of the four officers drifted away while the remaining two casually walked toward the scene of the accident. Unfortunately, the experiences of Malone and Marks were common to Cleveland’s black residents, and although these were not criminal proceedings, the hearings on police misconduct confirmed that there were serious problems between Cleveland's finest and its black community .2"^ ' At the close of the hearings, several community leaders gave remarks, including State Rep. Carl Stokes. In his statement Stokes characterized many of the testimonies as human "tragedies," while placing the blame of these "civil rights abuses" on the doorstep of government officials. Stokes hit hard at the city's neglect in housing and urban renewal programs even calling for the federal government to withhold urban renewal funds until the city got its large-scale program on track. Until then, Stokes suggested, HUD should allow private non-profit corporations to assist the city with its mess. Stokes also attacked the lax enforcement of non-discrimination clauses in employment. Continuing, he argued that had these laws been enforced the mall construction protest of 1963 by the United Freedom Movement could have been avoided. The underlying message of Stokes' comments was that Locher and his cabinet needed to "clean its own house," while making efforts "to bring equal opportunity and employment to citizens regardless of race or creed." Without question, Stokes' comments were strategically aimed at placing the Locher administration in an indefensible position. With Locher refusing to testify, Stokes took the opportunity to place on him all of Cleveland's ills.^^z

In the aftermath of the hearings it was perfectly clear that Cleveland was a time bomb waiting to explode. The hearings occurred at a time when several incidents increased

271 Ibid., 543-4, 554. 272 Ibid., 621.

163 racial tensions throughout the city. Most of these skirmishes took place somewhere on the northern border of Hough, which was surrounded on both sides by poverty stricken blacks and lower-class white ethics. This community, more commonly referred to as Sowinski, had historically been known for its hostility to African-Americans. Recent tensions began in January 1966 when a group of black Hough youngsters assaulted a white father and his son. As the weather warmed up, interracial fighting increased, but this time many of the attacks were by white youths on black youngsters. Much of the interracial tension in Sowinski occurred because black residents had to travel through the neighborhood to get to Sowinski Park, a popular hangout for black youth. By late May and early June the attacks had become more violent as white gangs beat and robbed several groups of black teenagers. To make matters worse, when community leaders approached the police to secure better police protection, the police only consented to monitor the situation. But they did not. When black youth would approach white officers about being attacked, the police would not even take their report, adding fuel to an already burning fire.273 On June 22nd, with tensions already at a boiling point, two black youths were brutally attacked in Sowinski. A crowd gathered after the incident and confronted police with evidence, including a description of the assailants and their automobile. However, the police refused to investigate or pursue the attackers, and soon after black youths began protesting by throwing rocks and bottles at police cars on Superior Ave. On the following day Hough area residents met with city and police officials on three separate occasions, but little action was taken to resolve the complaints. That night, fueled by the frustration and anger of black ghetto life, groups of Hough and Superior youth destroyed area property and continued throwing rocks at white motorists. But in the course of the rock throwing a

Hough Grand Jury Report on the Superior and Hough Disturbances, Held at Liberty Hill Baptist Church, 93,95. Report on file at the Cleveland Public Library, History Department.

164 ten-year old boy was shot by a white man whose car had been struck by a car. When the youths linked the car to the owner of a community grocery store. Gales Supermarket, they immediately gutted the store with firebombs, causing $45,000 worth of damage. Several other white-owned businesses were vandalized as well, but none as extensively as Gale's. Window breaking and rock throwing continued throughout the next day, but by Saturday night all was calm as the CPD dispatched 200, mostly white officers to the scene. Surprisingly, the CPD showed unusual restraint in dealing with the rioters and many members of the black community commended them for their actions. Remarkably, there were no reported incidents of police brutality or misconduct toward the rioters. On Saturday, June 25, at a meeting between community leaders and Mayor Locher, black residents aired grievances and made specific recommendations concerning police- community relations and urban renewal.^^^

Once the disturbances hit, the Locher administration sought to place a band-aid on

the underlying issues. A t Locher’s urging the Greater Cleveland Office of Economic Opportunity announced plans to keep the idle and riot-prone youth busy through a series of employment and recreational programs. The city announced that it was prepared to spend $1.5 million on programs to keep inner-city youth off the street. Although the black community expressed joy at this announcement, many concerned citizens wondered why the city had not established these programs prior to the disturbances.275 These and other concerns were brought up in a meeting between city officials and fifty black leaders on July 5th at a gathering that was broadly designed to ease racial tensions. The black leaders presented Locher with an eight-point program aimed at reducing tensions between the races, and the problems in the black community. Several of the recommendations dealt

Call and Post, 2 July 1966; Marc Lackritz, The Hough Riots, unpublished paper on file at the Cleveland Public Library. 275 Lackritz, "Hough," 45.

165 specifically with the CPD. The group requested that the CPD treat all persons with respect upon arrest, that "specially trained" police be sent into hostile areas until order had been restored, and that the shooting of the ten year-old be fully investigated. The leaders also requested the appointment of a special mayor's committee to make further recommendations to ease the tensions. And finally, they ended with a wide appeal for racial harmony. Surprisingly, Locher and McCormick agreed to the program .276 The eight-point peace pact was historic in that it represented one of the only few times that Locher had taken a step forward in trying to improve race relations, but it was too late. Years of frustration over poor housing, police brutality, job discrimination, and unequal schooling could not be remedied by a symbolic, though well intended, peace treaty. For many black residents the anger over the years had brought the situation to a boiling point.

Ill July 18, 1966, started off like most mid-July days in northeastern Ohio. It was hot. At the comer of East 79th St. and Hough stood the Jewish-owned and operated 79ers cafe, a popular black hangout. At around 5 o'clock that afternoon Dave Feigenbaum, the owner, ordered a prostitute, who was in the bar soliciting money for her deceased friend's funeral to leave. The women ignored his command and soon after they were cursing at each other. The woman finally left, but by then the spark had been lit. Later that same day a black patron's request for a glass of water was flatly denied by Feigenbaum, who told the patron that since he had a takeout order he would not serve him any ice water. Dennis Hilliary, who was in the bar at the time, then heard Feigenbaum tell a waitress "I have told you and I'm telling you again. Serve no niggers no damn water." Feigenbaum's remarks shocked many of the patrons but especially the customer who had been refused the cup of

Call and Post, 9 July 1966; Lackritz, "Hough," 46.

166 water. As tensions escalated the black waitress attempted to calm everyone down. But while she was trying to head-off a confrontation a sign appeared on the door of the bar reading "no water for niggers." As news of the incident spread a crowd gathered outside the cafe. After calling for police, Feigenbaum and his brother grabbed their weapons and stood in the doorway of their establishment and began pointing and pushing their guns at area residents. Shortly thereafter the pohce arrived but by then it was too late.^^7 Observers say that once the police arrived, they appeared more interested in "jeering" or getting the crowd dispersed instead of finding out what occurred inside the 79ers. Subsequently, the crowd grew larger and then rioting began. As the crowd moved toward 79th St. street, rioters began throwing rocks and bricks at police and area stores while shouting racial slogans such as "black power" and "white trash." As the rioters continued to loot and vandalize, fires also broke out at several area establishments. Three chain grocery stores, a drugstore, and a clothing store were among the first to go up in flames as chants of "bum, baby, bum" were heard. The worst rioting was along Hough between East 71st St. and East 93rd and it was believed that nearly several hundred rioters were in this twenty block area, and pohce were soon forced to block off the entrance to this area from the outside. The rioting peaked around midnight with gunfire being exchanged between rioters and police officers. Caught in the midst of gunfire was Mrs. Joyce Amett, a 26 year-old mother of three. According to contemporary reports Amett and relatives were walking along Hough approaching East 73rd when a police officer ushered them into an apartment building to avoid getting shot. Once inside the building Amett went to the second floor. As the shooting continued Amett became concemed about the safety of her kids who were at home down the street, and she stuck her head out the window shouting.

277 "Hough Grand Jury," 31. 33. 37, 113; Call and Post, 19 July 1966; For a study o f the Hough Riots in a comparative context see: James Upton, Urban Violence: A Case Study of Three Cities Ph.D. Dissertation, Ohio State University, 1976.

167 "I want to go home to my kids." As she shouted, shots were heard, and three bullets from an unknown assailant struck her in the head and chest, instantly killing her. She would be the first victim of the riots. Three other blacks were also shot that night, but none mortally wounded. The shooting stopped around 2:00am, and by 4:00am all was quiet.^'^s But the toll of the first night was heavy. Along with the shooting victims, seven policemen and one fireman were injured by rocks and other flying objects, and fifty-three Hough residents were arrested for disorderly conduct. On Tuesday morning the looting began again with rioters pillaging through stores they had wrecked the previous night. When area merchants learned that their stores were being looted in broad daylight they became angry with Locher because they felt that he did not have the situation under control. Locher was under tremendous pressure to call in the national guard. The previous night Locher, McCormick, and Wagner told reporters that they had no intention of calling in the national guard because they felt that the CPD could contain any further trouble. But as the trouble continued throughout Tuesday Locher succumbed to community pressure and called in the Guard at 3:30pm, giving them complete authority to shoot all looters. The initial Guard units did not arrive in Cleveland until 11:00. Meanwhile, in the absence of the Guard, looting, vandalism, and shooting continued, claiming another life. Thirty-six year- old Percy Giles, black, was shot in the back of the head as he went to the area to help a friend protect his restaurant from looters. Also that night two others were shot and injured, along with twelve policemen and one fireman before the National Guard restored order early Wednesday moming.2^9

Once deployed, the Guard sealed off the riot-tom area but sporadic looting and firebombing continued throughout Wednesday. Since the Guard had cordoned off the

278 Cleveland Press, 19 July 1966; Lackritz, "Hough," 8. 279 Lackritz, "Hough," 8; Cleveland Press, 19 July 1966, 20 July 1966; Plain D ealer, 20 July 1966.

168 area, the rioters moved to fringe communities on Thursday catching the authorities unprepared. Shortly after 4:00am rioters torched the University Party Center located several blocks from Case Western Reserve University. Awakened by the commotion and flames of the center were Henry Towns and his family who attempted to leave his home and find refuge at his parents' home in East Cleveland. But as Townes attempted to exit his driveway the police informed him that he could not leave. After much discussion Townes tried to leave. Police pumped twenty-one bullets into his car, critically injuring his son and wife Diana. Townes was arrested for disorderlyconduct.^so

The next day, Thursday, rioting spread to the Central area. East Cleveland, and the Kinsman area. Unlike the earlier attacks as the rioting spread whites began to attack blacks. Sam Winchester, fifty-four, was fatally shot by a group of whites as he waited for a bus. In similar fashion, Benoris Toney, twenty-nine, and father of five, was fatally shot as he was driving through Little Italy. Fortunately, Toney's killers were caught while Winchester's attackers were never found. Saturday and Sunday were virtually free of rioting and by Monday, one full week since the start of the uprising, all was back to normal.28 * At the riot's end there were four deaths, scores of police and civilian injuries, and millions in property damage. The Safety Department had spent $117,000 for the National Guard and $248,000 in salary and overtime for the city's own police and fire crews. Now that the disturbances were over, members of the white establishment were eager to know the causes of the riot.282 Toward the end of the riot-tom week, city officials and black leaders offered diverse opinions as to why the riot happened. Typical of the establishment line were

280 Plain Dealer, 23 July 1966. Lackritz, "Hough, " 14; Cleveland Press, 22 July 1966. 282 Lackritz, "Hough," 16.

169 comments made by Police Chief Wagner who sated that the uprising was instigated by the Jomo Freedom Kenyatta (JFK) House, a community center operated by alleged militants Lewis Robinson and Harllel Jones. Robinson had initially attracted attention in 1964 during the school crisis when he announced the formation of a rifle club to protect black protesters. Because of this announcement, he was later dismissed from his civil service job with the City of Cleveland. Wagner labeled the JFK House a "fire-bomb training school," and placed chief blame for the riot on Robinson, "There is no doubt in my mind that these bombings were planned," stated Wagner. Robsinson responded angrily to the accusations by labeling the comments "absolutely ridiculous." "Any youngster able to survive life in the ghetto knows without being taught how to make a firebomb out of a bottle," quoted Robinson.283

While Wagner and others blamed Robinson and black youth for the disturbance, Ernest Cooper of the CUL and Bertram Gardner of the CRB blamed the riot on black frustration. Cooper argued that the root cause of the riot was poverty, and that jobs, health services, and recreational facilities were in desperate need. Gardner was much more vague in his assessment of the causes, stating only, "Negro frustration." Many Hough residents offered their own explanations for the week long uprising. Several youths interviewed during the first night of the riot placed the blame squarely on the white community. One teen-age girl remarked, "you want to know, well, they started it," referring to whites, while another added, "you reap what you have sowed, the bible says that," and yet another remarked, "we showed we ain't scared of them." Julius X, operator of a Hough area beauty shop agreed, "the white man is reaping what he has sown. He is learning you can’t push people around, this trouble is here because the white man won't treat the black man right." Another area business owner responded likewise: "this has been a long time

283 Cleveland Press, 20 July 1966; Plain Dealer, 20 July 1966.

170 coming and it's about time; it's too bad that some of our own people have to suffer but whitey believes in making sacrifices and so do we." Community organizations such as CORE echoed many of these same sentiments. In a press release Cleveland CORE stated that although they did not "condone" rioting, they blamed city officials with failing "to meaningfully address themselves to the basic problems that confront the black community."284

But not all Hough residents agreed that rioting was the tool to utilize. Many older citizens were clearly upset at the disturbances. R. S. Milner, manager of an area black- owned shoe store, felt that the riots were foolish. "They are burning up their homes and their jobs, they are burning up their payday and hurting our own people." Franklin Sanders, Hough resident, and unemployed father of two, severely criticized the riot too. "These kids doing these things don't have to go to the store. But I got seven kids to feed and I'll have to go over to Euclid Avenue now." ^85

Judge Thomas Parino called for a special session of the County Grand Jury to uncover the "official" reasons of unrest. The Grand Jury toured the riot-tom area and then conducted week-long hearings, off-limits to the public. The Forman was Louis Seltzer, former editor of theCleveland Press and local power broker. Because of Seltzer's influence many black residents knew that their findings would be heavily biased. On August 9th the Grand Jury found that the riot was "organized, precipitated, and exploited" by a relatively small group of "trained," and "disciplined professionals," who were aided by members of the communist party. The report went on to state that the firebombing and destruction was "highly selective," and "plainly agreed upon. " The report also labeled Lewis Robinson and Harllel Jones as principal agitators. Robinson was characterized as a violent black nationalist, with "altruistic interests in youth," who was constantly

284 Cleveland Press, 20 July 1966; Plain Dealer, 20 July 1966. 285 Ibid.

171 "indoctrinating" JFK youth with his own philosophy of violence. Jones was described as a "black power apostle," with a bitter hatred for all whites, and an "outright exponent of violence" with alleged memberships in the Revolutionary Action Movement and the Deacons for Defense. The report pointed out that Robinson and Jones often made speeches "suggesting violence," and took steps in this direction by forming a rifle club and establishing a firing range. Further, the Grand Jury suggested that Robinson was linked to communists. He attended several of their meetings and communists from Chicago and New York came to Cleveland on the eve of the riots, quickly associating themselves with the JFK leadership.286 While foolishly blaming Robinson and Jones for the uprising, the report simultaneously praised local authorities for handling the riot. The report stated that the pohce and fire officials deserved special recognition "for their efforts to maintain law and order in the face of great personal danger." The first section of the report concluded with suggestions for tougher legislation against rioters. It recommended imprisonment from one to twenty years for anyone engaging in any conduct "which urges a riot," urges others to participate in a riot, or for anyone assaulting a policeman or fireman in the line of duty.^s? The second phase of the report examined the underlying socio-economic conditions of Hough. In this area the Jury found poverty and frustration "crowded by organized agitators." The report listed several inequities that contributed to the riot, most notably sub­ standard housing, "woefully inadequate recreational faculties," "sub-standard educational faculties," and the "denial of economic opportunities." There was no mention of police brutality.288

286 Report of the Special Grand Jury Report Relating to the Hough Riots, on file at the Cleveland Public Library, History Department, 1,4-7. 287 Ibid., 12, 17. 288 Ibid., 13, 14.

172 In the eyes of the black community the Grand Jury report was clearly propaganda. Responding to the charges made at him in the report, Robinson blamed Wagner and Locher for the riot, not him and Jones. He also concluded that for the Grand Jury not to indict him was a "flagrant misuse of power." Others also wondered why Robinson and Jones would be singled out but not indicted. But more importantly. Black citizens were foremost

concemed about what the Grand Jury did not report, police shootings, police brutality, and the unsolved deaths of Amett, Toney, and Giles. The report made no mention of these issues and the black citizenry was up in arms. Because of these concerns State Representative Stokes wrote a three-page letter to U.S. District Attorney Merle McCurdy requesting that he convene a federal Grand Jury to investigate the County Grand Jury findings. In his request for a probe Stokes was puzzled that Robinson and Jones had been singled out yet the Grand Jury could not find any law under which to indict them. Stokes also pointed out that two undercover CPD officers had spent a year in the Hough area infiltrating so-called nationahst and communist organizations, yet in their report they stated that they had no knowledge of "pre-riot planning" by the JFK House or communists. In addition Stokes was also upset with the Jury's failure to investigate police misconduct, which was widespread during the week-long riot. William Walker echoed many of Stokes' concerns in a lengthy editorial, "That Questionable Grand Jury Report is More Confusing than Revealing." Walker argued that the report was more concerned with espousing "patriotism" than it was in getting at the real facts. He further labeled the report "a questioned document of little value in assessing cause and blame." Stokes' request and the Walker editorial satisfied concemed citizens who were angry at the silence on the part of the city's black councilmen. One Hough resident was completely at a loss for their silence. "Where are the Negro Councilmen? Why haven't they demanded a complete investigation

173 of all shootings and killings in the riots?" As usual the black political clique failed to speak

up, preferring to remain in the good graces of white party leadership.289 In response to the "absurdity" of the Grand Jury Report, the black community decided to hold its own hearings on the July disturbances. The week long hearings were sponsored by the Cleveland Citizens Committee, under the direction of Baxter Hill, director of Cleveland CORE. This testimony would reveal the other side of the riots. Before a citizen's panel of ministers, teachers, social workers, and blue collar professionals, scores of wimesses told tales of inferior housing conditions, poor city services, job discrimination, and merchant-customer relations. But the most common theme echoed through the hearings was pohce brutahty during the riot, a side of the story that had gone untold. One of the first set of wimesses called was Diana Townes who, along with her son, had been severely wounded by pohce bullets in an altercation on the fourth night of the disturbance. Her husband, Henry, testified that as he and his wife and children attempted to vacate the scene of the fire, his driveway was blocked by a pohce cruiser. As he cut across the grass, several officers told him to stop the car and get out, but he would not so pohce and guardsmen began pulhng his wife's hair. Henry was knocked to the floor of the car with a buUy club, and as his foot slipped off the brake, the car lunged forward and the pohce started shooting. As Henry put his hand on the brake they continued to shoot until someone yeUed, "they're not going anywhere stop shooting. " But by then both Diana and her three-year old son were critically injured. The son sustained extensive brain damage to the left side, and Diana suffered brain damage as well, eventuaUy losing her right eye. The officers in question were never charged with a crime, while

Henry was arrested for aggravated assault.^^o

289 QqH Post, 13 August 1966, 20 August 1966. 290 "Hough Grand Jury Report," Testimony of Henry Townes, Diana Townes, and a Mr. Hewey, 11-8, 87-8.

174 Additional testimony also shed light on the Percy Giles murder. A Mr. Lewis stated that at the time of the Giles murder he was walking toward the comer of E. 86th and Hough when rioters started throwing bottles at police. At this point the "policemen jumped out and started firing in the air," telling everyone to disperse. While the police were breaking up the crowd another bottle was thrown, nearly hitting a policeman. "This time there was shooting, one policemen was taking a dead aim with a shotgun...and I saw his hand shake...and seen smoke from the gun and this fellow next to me (Giles) hit the ground." It did not stop there. When another resident attempted to assist Giles, he was told by police "don't touch him." In Mr. Lewis' mind the Giles shooting was "cold­ blooded murder. " His assailant in aC P D uniform was never identifîed.291

While the Townes and Giles incidents were two of the more spectacular episodes of alleged police misconduct, a more common incident was police intrusion into private homes. Edward Adams of 7401 Elk Avenue told the panel that as he was watching the "action" on his front porch, the police drifted toward his apartments shouting, throwing tear gas, and shooting, while forcing him and his family into their bedrooms. Next, the pohce shot down the front door to the apartment and at gunpoint forced everyone down onto the floor. The shooting particularly enraged Andrew because there was no one shooting at the officers. But pohce would later use the famihar refrain that they were looking for snipers. Andrew further testified that many of his neighbors were subject to the same treatment. Bertha PoUard had a similar experience as the pohce "kicked" their way into her home, and forced her at gunpoint outside into the rain, in her pajamas. As Ms. Pollard attempted to find shelter under a tree, she was told, "goddammit, get out from under the tree, get in the rain." Ms. Pollard was later charged with disturbing the peace. In a rather bizarre scenario, Geneva Bums' was arrested, and her home ransacked, after her

Ibid., Testimony of Mr. Lewis, 108-110.

175 son observed policemen setting a fire to a black residence. But not all episodes of police violence ended peacefully. Wallace Kelley was shot in the neck by police as he stood in his living room. He remembered the scene vividly: "I was in the living room, my sister was in the bedroom....and when I faced the screen door, and I seen a great big ball of fire...and it hit me." As his family attempted to take him to the hospital they were confironted by eight or nine officers with guns aimed, who volunteered to take him to the hospital. He nearly lost his life during his week long hospital stay but he eventually recovered from all of his injuries. Kelley was never charged with a crime; neither was the officer who shot him.292 The brutality by CPD seemed planned to many Hough residents because many testified that they did not recall the police wearing their badges once the National Guard arrived. When Harllel Jones inquired as to why the CPD was not wearing their badges he was given a foolish answer. "I said Officer, how come none of y awl got on your badges? He told me that 'we have to buy these shirts...when a riot occurs, you know people get funny and they grab you and they will grab that badge and it will tear shirts and we don’t want to pay for it.'" Bertha Pollard echoed many of these sentiments during her testimony. When a panel member asked her about the badges she stated bluntly, "they didn't have no badges on them."^^^

The published report of the citizen's hearing stated that the purpose for holding the hearings was that the Grand Jury failed to give adequate emphasis to the underlying causes of the riot. "Further," it read, "there seems to be some willingness on the part of city officials and law enforcement agencies to deal with these acts of violence and humiliation against the black community despite the fact that first hand witnesses and ample evidence is available." The final report also stated that for the black community to allow the Grand

292 Ibid., Testimony of Edward Adams, 19-25, Bertha Pollard, 25-31, Geneva Bums, 37-41, Wallace Kelley, 64-68. 293 Ibid., Testimony of Harllel Jones, 106, Bertha Pollard, 30.

176 Jury report to go "unquestioned" and "unchallenged" was to give approval to an "injustice." Throughout its report, the committee refuted many of the Grand Jury's findings while making several recommendations, many aimed at improving police- community relations.294

VI

The Hough riot and its aftermath exposed years of neglect on the part of city officials toward Cleveland's black community. The many problems had their origins in the city's response to the great migration. But in the midst of the turbulent sixties, black Clevelanders put down picket signs and instead resorted to bricks, molotov cocktails, and guns. This violent protest forced many members of the establishment to finally recognize black concerns. In an attempt to absolve themselves of any guilt, many members of the power structure began to blame Locher, who symbolically represented everything negative about the white community. Black activists also blamed Locher for the disturbance. Many felt that the Hough riot could have been avoided if Locher had shown more compassion to his black constituents throughout his tenure. Two area residents, in particular, considered the riots to be the black community's breaking point with Locher. With that being the case Nona Bailey, a house wife, and Charlie Day, a truck driver, spearheaded a recall effort to remove Locher from office. Day and Bailey had to collect 47,000 signatures from registered voters within thirty days, all of whom had to have voted in the 1965 mayoral election. After the requisite number of signatures were gotten then Locher would have four days to resign. If he refused. City Council would set a date for voters to either vote for or against his removal. If a majority voted for his removal, he would be ousted and the Safety Director would serve as acting mayor until a special election was held. When questioned as to why

Final Report of the Citizens Panel on the Hough and Superior Disturbances, 1-2, on file at the Cleveland Public Library, History Department.

177 he was undertaking an endeavor that had not been tried in the city's history. Day gave an uncompromising answer: "I find the city has been lacking in leadership for four years. There have been broken promises. There have been riots for no reason." While Day's comments echoed many of the areas black residents, local political figures, both black and white, repudiated the effort. Ester E. Spaulin, director of the Citizens League of Greater Cleveland, felt that the recall effort would exacerbate existing tension: "I think its most unfortunate, the community is already tom by dissension. There would be nothing to gain from this." Ward 33 Councilman George Blaha also felt that the recall would "divide " the community. James Stanton, City Council President, stated that the recall effort was "unfair." Continuing, he remarked, "we hold an election for mayor every two years, that's enough for the voters to approve or disapprove of the incumbent or to choose any mayor." Black politicians also lashed out at the recall attempt. One black councilman stated that the recall would make Locher "a martyr" by giving both support and sympathy. Another predicted flatly, "they won't get the signatures. " 295 Many Locher supporters were not convinced that this effort was solely the idea of Bailey and Day. Some believed that Stokes was behind the move, and that he was just getting an "early start" on the 1967 campaign. An editorial in the Press also suggested that Day and Bailey were "politically inspired." Suspicions about Stokes' involvement arose after Geraldine Williams, Stokes' 1965 campaign secretary, aligned herself with the effort. But Stokes flatly denied any association, and even criticized the recall attempt. Critics of the move felt that the effort could actually backfire and help Locher as opposed to hurting his career. Ward nineteen councilmen Anthony Garofoli predicted that the move would not "harm" Locher, "and it may just have a beneficial effect for him. " Harold Smith, Councilman from Ward Twenty-Two felt that many of his constituents were "thoroughly

295 Cleveland Plain Dealer, 18 August 1966; Cleveland Press, 18 August 1966, 19 August 1966.

178 disgusted" with the move. "I really believe people will get behind solidly," he said. In response to these and other criticisms. Day stated that many politicians were against the effort "because they know what it represents- a tool that the people could also use against them. "296

Clarence Rogers, lawyer for Day and Bailey, released an angry statement to the press answering their critics. Rogers stated that the recall effort presented a "threat" to politicians "who had long forgotten that this is a government by the people and for the people." Rogers further asserted that Day and Bailey would attain the necessary signatures for the recall to show Locher, the politicians, the press, the Chamber of Commerce, and all of the "mythical power structure," that "the people" were still the "true" power structure.297 Without the aid of the black political clique, who were critical of the effort. Day and Bailey were forced to recruit fifty volunteers to gather signatures. Many of the circulators went door-to-door collecting signatures, and what they found was a black community receptive to their efforts. One volunteer, Richard Norris, took the day off from work to collect signatures. Many of the residents Norris approached were eager to sign such as Barbara Byrd of 10814 Hull Avenue: "I'll sign. Mayor Locher has not been interested in our problems. He should sit down with us and have a round-table discussion, but he doesn't. I believe it is right to recall him." Clyde Witherspoon, a nearby neighbor, thought along those same lines: "In a way Mayor Locher has taken care of the problems of Cleveland, but in another way he has failed." Bertrice Amison agreed with Witherspoon. In her opinion Locher was "not very good." For Amison Locher's constant refusal to meet with black leaders was the problem. "When our leaders went down to talk with him, he was always busy or he refused to see them. That's bad. " Others such as James Powers felt that Locher's poor financial relationship with the federal government was the issue: "I don't

296 Call and Post, 3 September 1966. 292 Cleveland Press, 19 August 1966.

179 think Locher should be in office because he hasn't done a good job with all that federal money given to Cleveland. He hasn’t used it for the benefit of all the people. " But some, such as Ledoris Menafee, refused to sign the petition, stating flatly, "I don't know whether he has done a good job or not, but I won't sign thep e t i t i o n . "29 8

In the end Day and Bailey fell 15,000 short of the required signatures. But in their eyes, they were working against powerful forces. Kenneth McGhee, spokesman for the group, maintained that the Locher administration sent a directive to all city employees stating that if they signed the petition they would lose their job. He also stated that local welfare officials told recipients that if they signed the petition their funds would be cut. In spite of these obstacles and the subsequent defeat of the recall effort, McGhee felt that the campaign did achieve some "positive results." Most importantly, McGhee claimed, "that politicians now know they are going to have to serve the people...all the time." He further argued that the failed recall attempt illustrated to voters that "they don't have to wait until the next election to be judge and jury, but can use the recall move " In closing he declared "this is not our last effort to improve city government." Although the grass-roots drive to oust Locher was not successful, the effort itself demonstrated that black Cleveland was approaching pohtical maturity. Conversely, the recall attempt also closed a horrible episode in Locher's relationship with the black community. On the heels of both the riot and the recall attempt, dissatisfaction with Locher reached new heights as Carl Stokes easily won election to a third term in the Ohio Legislature.299

VII With Stokes' popularity increasing in Northeast Ohio and throughout the country he was unchallenged in his bid for a third term in the Statehouse. But although he was not officially challenged, the local Democratic party brass made numerous attempts to cut down

298 Cleveland Press, 9 September 1966. 299 Cleveland Press, 19 September 1966.

180 his burgeoning influence. Local Democrats had not forgotten that throughout his legislative career he had broke ranks with the party on several occasions, and in 1965 he had done the unforgivable, running as an independent in the mayor’s race against a Democratic incumbent. Although Stokes received the Democratic endorsement, he was constantly attacked for being disloyal. On several occasions, he openly supported independent candidates and in one instance he supported Russell Davis, GOP candidate for the Ohio Senate. Because of Stokes' independent posture, local Democratic officials engaged in a whispering campaign on the eve of the '66 elections. Cuyahoga County Democratic Chair Albert Porter and Council President Jim Stanton instructed ward committeemen to "talk down Stokes" in their respective wards. In addition, black candidates for state offices were told to do say, "don't line up with Stokes. " But even with many against him, Stokes still managed to maintain his popularity and influence. On the eve of the election Stokes was featured as a guest columnist in the Call and Post under the headline: "Carl Stokes urges full vote turnout." Apparently written in response to whispers that loyal Democrats were out to curb his power, Stokes stated that his only concern was making sure that black Clevelanders voted. "Failure to turn out 100%," he said, "will be interpreted everywhere as evidence that Negroes in Cleveland were not really interested in either dignity or equality." He further explained to Call and Post readers that it was indeed true that he was "actively supporting" some non-Democrats, but only because they held "outstanding qualifications." He closed by stating that he would never become an organizational man, he would always pick the candidate that best represented his views: "Whenever, now or in the future, I have to make a choice between party and principle, I shall choose principle."30°

Call and Post, 19 October 1966, 29 October 1966; Cleveland Press, 22 October 1966.

181 Stokes' continued exposure in the local press greatly enhanced his popularity. In his bid for a third term Stokes waged a relatively invisible campaign. Since the local press often sought out his views and opinions he was basically afforded free advertising. Many political experts predicted that Stokes was just using this election as a pit stop before the 1967 mayoral race, but in the later part of 1966 and early 1967 Stokes was publicly non­ committal toward a mayoral entry. When questioned about his plans, Stokes gave vague responses, indicating that he was moving carefully. There was little question as to whether or not he was going to run. The big debate was whether he would run as an Independent or as a Democrat. But for now he was back in Columbus keeping one eye to the north.^°* During the early part of his third term, Stokes continued to sponsor urban-oriented legislation. In late December, Stokes announced that he was preparing two bills that dealt with repeat offenders and weapon control. Stokes' first proposal was a "three-strikes, you're out" mle that mandated that anyone convicted of three felonies automatically be given life imprisonment. The second proposal called for a mandatory five-to-ten year prison term for criminals using a gun or "dangerous weapon" in executing their crime. In addition, the second initiative also called for Juveniles using guns to be tried as adults. These proposals, though never enacted, had a two-fold purpose. First, they signaled to black Clevelanders that Stokes was concemed about the escalating crime rate, and second they symbolized to many white citizens that Stokes was a friend of "law and order." But some black residents were leery of Stokes' crime prevention bills. Many felt that the laws would be unevenly applied with the black community feeling the discriminatory effects. Stokes answered these critics by arguing that under mandatory sentencing, the sentence was clear and direct, with little margin for judges to impose alternative sentencing. With regards to juveniles, Stokes believed that young offenders often got off with a "light

301 Cleveland Press, 24 November 1966.

182 sentence." This bill would now place them on the same level as adult crim inals.302 in other legislative activity, Stokes introduced H.B. 229, which called for the licensing and registration of all hand weapons, while making it a felony to carry a concealed weapon without a license. The Stokes proposal not only included guns but also knives, blackjacks, and brass knuckles. But Stokes ran into difficulty in attempting to get these bills passed as some of his critics suggested that H.B. 229 was aimed mainly at the homeowner who wanted to protect his family rather than at the "criminal." While Stokes felt that there had to be some "kind of control over weapons," his critics such as Elmer Davies, Executive Director of the Ohio Sportsmen and Firearms Organization, felt that caution must be exercised "in enacting legislation aimed at the criminal, and not against the law-abiding citizen. "2 03

In his battle for H.B. 229 Stokes initially found an unusual ally, Cleveland Police Chief Richard Wagner. To attract support for his bill Stokes had enlisted Wagner's support, and according to Stokes, Wagner had told him that he would send two CPD officers to Columbus to testify on behalf of the bill. Stokes' solicitation of Wagner's support was shrewd. Since Wagner spoke so much against alleged black lawlessness, he would use Wagner to get his bill passed. However, Wagner reneged on the deal and refused to send his men to testify. Instead, Wagner sent a Police Inspector to testify in favor of another bill, an anti-firebomb measure, which was clearly a reactionary bill introduced after the riots. When questioned, Wagner argued that he never gave Stokes a confirmation regarding the wimesses, while his Inspector stated that they only agreed with a portion of the bill anyway. Apparently Wagner and his Inspector agreed with stiff penalties for unlawful possession, but they wanted them combined with a stop, search, and seizure bill. The gun control bill never made it out of committee. Stokes also ran into

302 Cleveland Press, 21 February 1967, 10 March 1967. 303 Ibid.

183 problems with H.B. 230, the "three-strikes" law. A similar proposal had been introduced in the state Senate by two Republican senators, but called for lighter penalties for repeat offenders. Their legislation called for a first offense penalty of 1-3 years, and 3-10 years for the second offense, while Stokes wanted the first offense to carry a 3-10 year term. Stokes believed the longer terms would send a clear message to the hard-core criminal and thug, that "if you're going to carry a gun on the street you are going to jail. Not all of Stokes' third term proposals dealt with crime and delinquence. Throughout the early months of his third term Stokes also opened up a dialogue for increased taxes to meet state financial needs. Fulfilling a campaign promise made early in his legislative career, Stokes called for significant improvements in health, welfare, and education. He believed that state relief payments were woefully "inadequate," and that by neglecting the needs of poor children "today," the state would be forced to pick up additional costs in the future. In a speech before the Council of Churches, Stokes said that he was "ashamed" of Ohio's record in dealing with the poor, pointing out that New York and Michigan provided $70 and $50 more a month respectively to a family of four. Stokes realized that the only way to remedy the situation was more tax revenue, specifically a graduated state income tax. This type of tax, he argued, "would eliminate the hodgepodge of local regressive payroll taxes, while raising the necessary funds." Stokes called for this type of tax because the Ohio constitution stipulated that 50% of state taxes be returned to local communities.205 While Stokes was attempting to generate more revenue for the cities, another bill in the General Assembly was trying to take revenue away. The bill called for 35% of a city's income tax funds to go to the suburbs if that city had an income tax as well. This proposal

304 Qall and Post, 25 February 1967; Cleveland Press, 21 February 1967, 29 March 1967. 3 0 5 Cleveland Press, 24 January 1967.

1 84 enraged Stokes when he realized that it was just a play to make suburban areas richer, while making iimer-city communities poorer. "The iniquities are on our side," he declared "we know that most of the bedroom communities are just passing income taxes because the money is there and they say, let's get it." Stokes was not convinced that suburban communities even needed the money: "suburbs take the money and reduce their costs maintaining services at the same level." While Stokes assaulted this anti-inner-city bill, he drafted two measures specifically aimed at Locher. The first proposal, the "anti-executive session bill," forbade any public body from staging closed door executive sessions. This bill was in response to Cleveland's Board of Control meetings, which were held in private. The board was primarily responsible for the awarding of contracts and Stokes argued that it was "reprehensible" for the board to conduct its meeting in secret. Stokes' bill called for all such meetings not open to the public "void," thereby beefing up an existing law with several loopholes. Stokes' bill came on the heels of an attempt by four city councilmen, presumably backed by Stokes, to gain entry into the meeting. They were told by Locher that it was a private cabinet meeting and that they had to leave. However, the makeup of his cabinet was also his control board. According to press reports, the practice was that after the so-called "closed" cabinet meeting, the board meets "publicly", of course without announcing to the public, and awards contracts worth millions "without discussion." Unfortunately, Stokes would have to wait until he occupied the mayor's seat to change this policy.306

Stokes introduced another bill aimed at Locher, this one giving the governor authority to declare martial law without waiting for a request from city officials. Stokes' rationale was his belief that if Locher had called in the National Guard earlier then the trouble during the Hough riot would have been dealt with much more quickly. According

306 Plain Dealer, 7 July 1967; Cleveland Press,S June 1967; Chatterjee, Leadership, 122.

185 to Stokes, this bill would take the politics out of municipal officials' response to disturbances. As usual, the bill died in committee. While many of Stokes' political battles either never made it out of committee or were voted down on the floor, Stokes did have success in halting a controversial "stop and search" bill. This measure would have given permission for police to stop, search, and question an individual in public on the basis of being "suspicious," as opposed to "probablec a u s e . " 3 0 7

By April 1967 Stokes had once again earned himself the label "top-notch legislator." Unlike his second term when he was absent quite a bit, he used his third term to sharpen his image both in Cleveland and Columbus. Since Stokes had taken considerable criticism from his political enemies regarding his near-record of absenteeism, he quieted his opponents by increasing his visibility. Remarkably, one criticism made of Stokes was that he was too vocal throughout legislative sessions. Several lawmakers characterized his constant visibility as a gesture of self-promotion. "Stokes," they said, is only "trying to grab headlines." But Stokes rarely spoke for the sake of being seen. One veteran Republican legislator commented that Stokes rarely introduced "trifling arguments" to the debate: "He's a skilled questioner in committee hearings and generally adds to the committee's knowledge." The fact that a Republican legislator would publicly compliment him testifies to Stokes' independent posture. Although this stance often found him out of favor with Democratic leaders, this maverick-style was recognized as an "intellectual commitment to the position he adopts.''^®* Above all Stokes' record in the house stood out for unwavering commitment to civil rights and liberalism. As one of the few black state legislators in the country, and one of the two African-Americans in the Ohio legislature, he realized that he could exploit his position to elevate the black poor and working-class. He could be the standard bearer on

307 Ibid. 308 Plain Dealer, 23 April 1967.

186 racial issues because he had black Cleveland as his power base. Moreover, being a state representative worked to his advantage because during the heyday of civil rights militancy in Cleveland, Stokes was under no pressure to speak out, unlike many of the black councilmen. When things got hot Stokes could always say that he was a state legislator and not a councilman. However, the fact that Stokes did speak out is extremely important. He could have easily remained non-visible, but he took a calculated risk often criticizing Cleveland's power structure, but in the process he solidified his black support. VIII As the filing date for the mayoral election drew near in the Spring 1967 Stokes still had not made an official statement regarding his candidacy. Although many pundits were sure that Stokes would run, he was hesitant in announcing his candidacy because he was still debating about running as an Independent or a Democrat. On June 16th Stokes ended all speculation by armouncing his candidacy for the mayor's seat, but he still could not decide whether to run as an Independent or a Democrat. He had until July 5 to make that decision. In announcing his candidacy Stokes emphasized that the problems of Cleveland were "serious," and that the Locher administration had intensified them in the area of race relations, urban renewal, crime, and delinquency. In keeping with his tradition Stokes did not duck the race issue. Although he was proud of his "Negro heritage," he emphasized that he was not running as the candidate of the black community or any other special group. Rather, he was seeking to serve "all the people of Cleveland." Statements like these were part of a bold strategy Stokes knew he would have to employ, regardless of how he filed. Because of the increase in racial tensions since his last election, Stokes realized that he had to appear moderate when speaking to the press or all-white audiences. Stokes would exploit fears of increased racial strife shortly after armouncing his candidacy by stating bluntly that his candidacy would help to avoid racial turmoil during the long, hot summer that had been predicted by many activists. Stokes felt that his campaign would divert racial

187 violence by enlisting the support of the more militant factions, and by promising the frustrated and discouraged "hope" in an otherwise sea of despair. Throughout his campaign Stokes would embrace, emphasize, and exploit the idea that he was the only figure who could guarantee a summer ftee of racial violence.^o^ Among the potential candidates was, of course, the incumbent Ralph Locher, who was determined to seek another term although his credibility had taken serious blows. But many Democratic leaders were urging Locher not to run for re-election because the city had suffered severe image problems under his leadership, and in addition, relations with the National Democratic Party had soured. HUD secretary Robert Weaver, for instance, had cut off urban renewal funds and withdrew an additional $10 million previously committed for downtown commercial development, all because Cleveland had failed to complete a single urban renewal project in eleven years. The Locher administration was further embarrassed when it lost model-cities dollars because the application submitted lacked both details and the required approval of city council. With all this baggage hanging over his administration, county Democrats asked Locher not to run but he entered the race anyway.3 ° Also competing for the Democratic endorsement were Council President James V. Stanton and Frank Celeste, former Mayor of the West-side suburb of Lakewood. Celeste was particularly attractive to many members of the establishment who were upset with Locher, but who were not yet ready to support a black candidate.Cleveland Press editor Louis Seltzer enticed Celeste into running by promising him a $100,000 campaign donation, and major endorsements, most notably from local democrats, and his own paper.

309 Cleveland Plain Dealer, 17 June 67. 3lOyvew York Times, 21 May 1967; William E. Nelson and Phillip E. Meranto, Electing Black Mayors, (Columbus: Ohio State University,) 1977, p. 110-111.

188 To execute this strategy Seltzer conferred with local Democrats, who entertained the proposal, but eventually declined the offer.31 • Stokes’ hesitancy in declaring party affiliation was in part caused by his desire to see what the other candidates would do. To be on the safe side Stokes circulated two sets of petitions. Independent and Democrat. The decision was a difficult because both options were appealing. If he ran as an Independent, he was certain to face two white candidates in the general election who would split the white vote while he gained election by capturing the black vote. But several factors worked against this option. First, Stokes' candidacy had drawn the interest of President Lyndon Baines Johnson and other high Democratic officials who wanted to keep Cleveland in Democratic hands. Thus, the major advantage of running as a Democrat was that his campaign would receive tremendous support from the DNC, and in addition Democratic support would also be beneficial if Stokes were to eventually seek a higher office. Stokes' decision was made somewhat easier when Seth Taft warned Stokes that if he (Stokes) ran as an Independent then he would withdraw his candidacy for fear of splitting the white vote. These developments encouraged Stokes to file as a Democrat, but on the final day for filing Stokes was almost disqualified due to a tactical error. According to local election laws, whenever a candidate filed fiis/her nominating petitions a master petition had to be attached. When Stokes went to present his forms he did not have his master petition, but he quickly acquired one as the 4:00 PM deadline approached.^ *2

Shortly after Stokes filed as Democrat, Stanton withdrew his candidacy, sensing that the Democratic nomination was clearly between Stokes and Locher. With Stanton’s departure the field was now reduced to Locher, Stokes, Celeste, and Taft. Stokes now turned his attention to grabbing the Democratic endorsement. Although Stokes and

Ibid., 114. 312 Ibid., 115.

189 Democratic County Chair Albert Porter were bitter enemies, Stokes nonetheless approached him about an endorsement. Stokes felt that as a "lifelong Democrat" he was fully qualified and "entitled" to the endorsement, but with Stokes' independent history it was foolish of him to think that he would even receive it. Even though much of the party leadership was anti-Stokes, black councilmen George Forbes and Charlie Carr were pressuring them to endorse Stokes, or at best, declare an open primary. Customarily on the day the party announces its endorsement each candidate was allowed to present his/her case to the executive committee. In 1967 Stokes was denied the opportunity, and Locher was given the endorsement.3

Since Stokes did not receive official party support he was forced to wage a grass­ roots campaign once again. But unlike the 1965 campaign, his second try would combine grass-roots participation with a highly professional campaign strategy. While many of the workers from his earlier campaign such as Geraldine Williams, Ken Clement, and Charles Butts were still heading the effort, Stokes hired the public relations expert A1 Ostrow to help him improve his image to both the corporate and white communities. The hiring of Ostrow was critical to the overall Stokes strategy because he realized that although he could count on 90-95% of the black vote, he would need to capture a small but moderate percentage of the white vote. While some of the business community supported Stokes as an "insurance policy," the average white homeowner did not. To many of Cleveland's white residents Stokes seemed to typify the common civil-rights agitator, with one noticeable difference- he appeared wealthy. Armed with good looks, fine clothes, excellent diction, and a law degree, Stokes' intelligence and demeanor angered many white residents, more so than a black militant with little or no education. So while in terms of the white vote, the 1965 election had been a battle against the impression of black

Cleveland Press, 1 August 1967; Nelson, "electing," p. 115.

190 incompetence, the goal in the 1967 campaign would be to make Stokes appear as a commoner, not as a member of an uppity class of Negroes, and it was Ostrow's job to accomplish this goal. Ostrow felt that the main problem Stokes faced was how to convince voters that Stokes was the best qualified in the race. One way to achieve this objective was to give Stokes as much exposure as possible, particularly in the white community. While mass media would bring Stokes into every home, black and white, Ostrow emphasized the importance of personal contacts and appearances especially in front of white audiences. This was necessary because "even racial bigots must be reached into recognition that he (Stokes) is the most capable candidate." Ostrow also suggested that Stokes tackle the race issue "head on," and not dodge it.^i'» In laying out the strategy, Ostrow identified three major issues that Stokes should address throughout the campaign: (1) race-relations, (2) law enforcement, and (3) urban renewal, issues that most Clevelanders could relate to. Under the race-relations category, Ostrow exploited the impression that a Stokes mayoralty would assure peace. But he knew better so therefore he developed a contingency plan in case rioting erupted during the campaign. Ostrow suggested that Stokes assemble a group of ministers and community leaders and patrol the riot area with a bullhorn shouting, "This is Carl Stokes your State Representative. I ask you to go home and stop this trouble making. You are only hurting your own people." This action was a win-win situation for Stokes because if his actions stopped the rioting then it would be in Ostrow's eyes a "dramatic presentation of personal leadership." Should Stokes' actions have little or no effect then Stokes would still gain sympathy on both sides of the Cuyahoga River. Ostrow also provided Stokes with specific instructions on how to handle civil rights demonstrations should a disturbance occur during

A1 Ostrow Campaign Strategy for Carl Stokes, Container 1, Folder 9, CBS P a p e r s .

191 the campaign. He was to maintain "friendly" relations with the civil rights leadership, but he was not to volunteer any public statements. However, if pressured then Stokes should make a statement in support of the effort but reciting how full equality and civil rights would benefit everyone. This was a particularly troubling issue for the Stokes team because Stokes' silence on a sensitive racial issue would be noticed in black circles, which would be quick to label him a "Tom." However, both Ostrow and Stokes realized that since he was trying to capture white voters he could not appear as a civil rights agitator.^ Ostrow's plan to solidify Stokes' black support was much more direct- they sold blackness. Geraldine Williams and Kenneth McGhee, both long-time friends of Stokes, were to produce a large black turnout on the day of the election. Since this was the grass­ roots segment of the campaign organization they were given complete freedom to carry out their program. In approaching black voters Stokes workers emphasized three themes. First they stressed that if every black voter registered and voted for Stokes then he could win easily. Second, they stressed that a Stokes election would be historic, and that black grievances would be immediately addressed. Lastly, they constantly repeated that October 3 was the day to vote. According to William Nelson and Philip Meranto, Stokes' campaign literature did not reveal that October 3 was only the primary, they withheld this information because of the widespread idea that black voters ignore primaryelections.^ >6 The Stokes organization received help from several civil-rights organizations in registering black voters. Since Stokes' near miss in 1965 his mayoral campaign had become a cause celebre within the civil rights establishment. Many interpreted his political aspirations as the next plateau in the black freedom struggle, and consequently, in the summer preceding the election several voter registration drives were launched. In July the NAACP, Urban League, UP A, CORE, and SCLC, all launched efforts to register more

315 Ibid. 316 N elson, "Electing," 120-21.

192 voters. But while these drives helped register thousands, the Stokes team was leery about potential white backlash. In his autobiography Stokes tells how he was skeptical about Martin Luther King, Jr., and other groups coming to Cleveland to register black voters. One Stokes worker felt that if these organizations garnered too much publicity in the local press, the white community would react and become united around an effort to defeat Stokes. Although Stokes did not particularly welcome them, he was more than happy that they registered more than 50,000 black voters. This effort cannot be overlooked because 30% of black registered voters had been dropped from the polls since 1965 because of confusing elections laws. Not only did these combined efforts add thousands to the rolls, but it also energized black voters toward the Stokes campaign. A smaller segment of the grass-roots team canvassed the all-white West side in hopes of spreading the word about Stokes. Since the atmosphere was particularly hostile they could not really canvass door-to-door, the brunt of grass-roots organizing. Rather their duties were confined to distributing literature and lining up speaking engagements for Stokes. The West-side team was divided into two operations, one dealing with the small business owner and the other with rank and file white voters. In approaching the business community, Stokes organizers emphasized how Cleveland's racial problems had a disastrous effect on the city's business climate, and how Stokes was the only person who could possibly revive it. The Stokes team knew that the riot was still fresh in everyone's mind, so as Stokes sold himself off as an insurance policy. He also stressed how he could build the city. This appeal generated a tremendous amount of support for Stokes in white business circles, but the white rank and file were not supportive of Stokes' candidacy. In fact they were hostile, and at times, violent towards Stokes' west-side supporters.^ On several occasions Stokes' workers were brutally attacked for passing out literature.

317 Ibid., 132.

193 windows at Stokes’ West-side headquarters were broken, and on one specific occasion gunshots were fired at a security guard protecting the same west-side headquarters. Within this climate it was often difficult to attract workers on the west-side and the Stokes team felt that the only way to lessen this resistance was to bring Stokes into their own backyard, through personal appearances, and Radio and TV ads. Since the Stokes team knew that they needed West-side support to win, they spent considerable time on that side of the Cuyahoga, often causing his East-side workers to argue that he was taking the black community for granted. But Stokes had paid his dues on the East-side and now he needed to attract voters that were unfamiliar with him. The strategy was sound.^ 18 While Stokes had difficulty attracting the white west side homeowner, both Locher and Celeste felt that they could use the popular jargon of "law and order" to attract white votes. While this theme surely attracted some, both of these campaigns were void of any overall organization. Since Locher was a decent man at heart, he was unable to play the politics of polarization. Likewise, the rhetoric of law and order did not fit Celeste's personality either.^ ' 9

IX The hard campaigning did not begin until early August since the primary was scheduled for October 3. On August 4 while speaking at an Fraternal Order of Police meeting, Stokes announced that if he was elected he was virtually guaranteed model cities money, which had been cut off due to Locher's incompetence. He further boasted that "of all the candidates I can get the maximum amount of federal funds." These statements confirmed reports that Stokes had the support of both the White House and the DNC, but more importantly, they made him more appealing to downtown interests. The next day Stokes launched another attack at the Locher administration when he announced that he

318 Ibid., 135. 319 Ibid., 138-9.

194 intended to file a lawsuit seeking to bar closed meetings of the board of control. Although Stokes had addressed the issue while in the State House, he realized that now was the time to resurrect the issue. Stokes believed that Klementowicz, the Safety Director, was using city contracts as bait to attract financial support for Locher's fledgling campaign. In a letter to "Klem," Stokes labeled the closed-door sessions "repugnant," because they destroyed the "integrity" of competitive bidding.^zo

After firing the opening salvo in the campaign Stokes began actively campaigning on the West side, but instead of relying on a prepared speech he usually took questions from the crowd. This allowed Stokes to show off his personality and charisma. When speaking to West side audiences Stokes often tackled the race issue head-on. For instance, when asked about potential white support Stokes responded bluntly, "Today those who are relying on the theory that the white west side will not vote for Carl Stokes because he is a Negro are mistaken." The Stokes team stressed getting Carl into west side meetings figuring that once white voters wimessed him in person anti-Stokes prejudice would lessen. But while Stokes was busy campaigning, Locher and Celeste were on the campaign trail as well.32i

Locher opened his campaign by calling the massive East side voter registration effort "unfair." Locher felt that a geographically specific registration campaign was not in the American tradition of "fairplay." Unlike the civil rights establishment, Locher proclaimed, his campaign "reaches into every home, heart and mind regardless of religion, race, or color. Throughout the early weeks of the campaign Stokes hit hard at the Locher administration's neglect of black concerns. One of Stokes' favorite punching bags was the

3 2 0 Cleveland Press, 5 August 67; Carl B. Stokes to Safety Director Bronis Klementowicz, Container 44, Folder 66, CBS Papers. Cleveland Plain Dealer, II August 1967. 322 Ibid.

195 city's inept urban renewal program. Since the program was in complete shambles, Stokes hammered away at it consistently. In a vacant field earmarked for a renewal project, Stokes spoke to a crowd of 500 about the bloopers and blunders of the city's renewal program. After criticizing the program Stokes offered his solutions, stressing that with the help of federal money, bond money, and private enterprise, the program could be restored. But until then, Stokes proposed building an industrial park, which with the help of private industry would provide much-needed jobs and housing for the city's black residents, while also benefiting the city by bringing in enormous tax revenue.323

As the campaign roared into high gear Stokes publicly challenged Locher to a debate. Ostrow figured that with Stokes' demeanor and personality, a one-on-one debate would clearly show Stokes to be the more competent candidate. But Locher refused, stating, "I appreciate his willingness to debate, but I will conduct my campaign in my own way period." Stokes next began a letter-writing campaign. Beginning on September 3, Stokes began writing Locher daily. In some of the early letters, Stokes wrote that as a public official Locher should "recognize " the process of democracy and "engage" in a discussion of his administration. Stokes believed that as Mayor, Locher should agree to a debate so that he could personally defend his inept administration in public. Subsequent letters to Locher dealt more specifically with issues such as bad housing, urban renewal, city contracts, and the overall image of the city. Stokes wrote approximately thirty letters to Locher, all of which went unanswered. Stokes forwarded a copy of all letters to the local media, further embarrassing the Locher administration. Stokes interpreted Locher's refusal to debate to mean that the Locher record was indefensible.32‘^

323 Cleveland Plain Dealer, 28 August 1967. 324 por the series of letters Stokes wrote to Locher see Container 4, Folder 66, CBS Papers; Carl Stokes to Mayor Ralph Locher, Container 4, Folder 66, CBS P a p e r s.

196 While Stokes was pushing a reform agenda, Locher, under the direction of Porter and Klementowicz, were canvassing the black East side for votes. Throughout early September Locher made several stops in the black community, often stressing aesthetic improvements such as new street lights, new curbs and new sidewalks, and his fiscal conservatism. However, Locher avoided any talk of full equality under the law for

African-Americans. In addition, Locher also emphasized to black crowds the "good" relationship between his administration and black city employees. This "good" relationship, in Locher's eyes, was due to his policy of fair promotions and that he had not laid off a single worker throughout his five-year tenure. Locher's appeal to black municipal employees took hold in some circles. At a predominantly all-black rally for Locher, Jack Oliver, secretary to the city service director, and Clarence Gaines, city Welfare Director, painted Stokes as a "pawn in the plot" by the city's establishment to defeat Locher so Taft, the Republican, could take over City Hall. A Taft mayoralty was particularly threatening to these workers, who owed many of their jobs to democratic patronage. Oliver repeatedly stressed that Stokes was taking the black vote for granted, while paving the way for a GOP ascension. "Stokes is on the way up alone," proclaimed Oliver, "and he's not taking anyone with him....where are you going to be when the GOP takes over?" Some speakers at the rally went so far as to characterize Stokes as an Uncle- Tom, while labeling Locher a color-blind politician. For these workers the idea of racial solidarity was secondary to concern abouttheir jobs.^^s

While Locher presented one side of his personality to the black community, he showed another to white ethnics. Locher realized that to guarantee white support he would have to play the race card. From the moment Stokes filed as a Democrat, Locher was given a symbolic advantage, the default support of the racist element. Encouraging Locher to

Cleveland Plain Dealer, 27 September 67.

197 play upon these fears was Porter and Klementowicz, who ran a defiantly racist campaign under the theme of law and order in the closing weeks leading up to the primary. Locher was forced to adopt this posture because his themes of honesty and integrity were attracting no one, including the press. At many of his campaign stops, Locher was virtually ignored by the press and thus he played the politics of race to attract grass-roots white support. The underlying ideology of "law and order" was that a Stokes victory would lead to a black nationalist takeover, an idea that white ethnics bought hook, line, and sinker. Some interpreted the cut off of federal funds and big business support of Stokes as part of a grand conspiracy to "destroy" the image of Locher. Even if white ethnics did not believe that Locher had done a good job as mayor, he was a lot more easier to digest than the prospect of a black mayor. Without question, many whites realized that if elected, Stokes would attempt to address some of the historical inequities on the east side, and this they could not take.^26

Albert Porter, Democratic Party Chair, and Law Director Bronis Klementowicz would play to these fears in the pages of the Cuyahoga County Democratic Party Newsletter. One of the more memorable ran the headline; "Dictatorship in Cleveland: Preview of Stokes and MLK as mayor. Do you want MLK and his disciples running your city?" This particular statement was in response to a SCLC voter registration campaign and other SCLC activities, such as their boycott of a white-owned grocery store that refused to hire blacks. In a subsequent issue of the Newsletter Porter argued that a Stokes victory "would give the noted racist control of his first city in the United States." Porter interpreted King’s boycott as "blackmail," and continuously played on white fears by suggesting King’s demands could lead to an end of "earned" promotions and a possible loss of employment. Both editions of theNewsletter closed with: "Keep Stokes and MLK out of

326 United Hungarian Socities Newsletter, Container 15, Folder 1, Ralph Locher P a p e r s.

198 city hall." Although this smear campaign was designed to draw votes for Locher, it actually aided the Stokes organization, in that many of his workers were determined to work that much harder to defeat the racist tactics of Porter and Klementowicz.^ 2? As election day grew closer, Stokes received a big boost when he received the influential endorsement of the Plain Dealer. In endorsing Stokes' candidacy, the editors argued that Stokes could provide the kind of leadership the city needed to repair its reputation. The editorials further contended that because Stokes was young, aggressive, and informed, he could pull the city out of its "doldrums," by revitalizing the city to attract new residents and new business. While the Plain Dealer gave Stokes its unqualified endorsement, the Cleveland Press gave Stokes a qualified endorsement, stating only that it was time for Locher to leave office; it mentioned nothing about Stokes. "ThePress commitment in this primary is to change, rather than to either of the challengers. For either would bring change." Without question the Plain Dealerr endorsement and the Press's call for Locher to leave office helped the Stokes campaignim m easurably.328

When the votes were counted on October 3, the day of the primary, Stokes edged out Locher by a 18,000 vote margin, while Celeste only tallied a paltry 8,509 votes. In the black wards, Stokes received 76.2% of the vote, 15.4% in white wards, and 54.4% in mixed wards. Six factors explain Stokes' large victory. First, black voter turnout was an all-time high of 73%, a direct result of the strong grass-roots effort on the East side. Second, white turnout was only 58%, and of this number Stokes received 15%. Third, the tireless and effective voter registration campaigns played a strong role. Fourth, the racist attacks by Porter obviously backfired, probably costing them many votes. Fifth, Locher's refusal to debate gave Stokes an advantage because he was able to criticize the Locher

Cuyahoga County Democratic Newsletter, 29 September 67, Container 4, Folder 67, CBS Papers; Ibid., 30 September 67, Container 15, Folder 4, Locher P a p e r s. 328 Cleveland Plain Dealer, 2 October 67; Call and Post, 30 September 67.

199 administration without any rebuttal. Lastly, the refusal of the two major dailies to endorse the incumbent, Locher, also helped Stokes coast to victory. As the election results were announced, a crowd of over 5,000 people gathered in front of Stokes' headquarters, blocking traffic as they danced, embraced, and kissed, celebrating the historic moment. However, this was only the primary, and the General election would be a bit more diffïcult.32^ X With the primary election complete Stokes turned his attention to the November 7 general election against Seth Taft, the GOP Nominee. Unlike Stokes, Taft was a wealthy Anglo-Saxon suburbanite whose only previous experience was as mayor of Pepper Pike. In other words Taft represented the wealthy white anglo establishment whom white ethnics had come to hate. But for this election, white ethnics would put aside their intraethnic differences. Nonetheless, the general election would force Stokes to attract more white voters since the black electorate only made up 37% of eligible voters. This was to be the major factor in the general election strategy because Stokes was virtually certain that he had the black vote locked down. But keeping the black vote involved would not be easy since the Stokes team had consistently stressed October 5. In the aftermath of the primary, many black voters thought that Stokes had already been elected. Thus the grass-roots segment of the campaign team was forced to continue its activity. While Williams and her troops were concerned with keeping black voters, the Ostrow team faced a potential crisis, the desertion of white Democrats to the GOP ranks. With this being the case Stokes team began stressing three major themes: (1) that since Stokes ran in the primary he was entitled to the support of all Democrats; (2) that he would be mayor of all the people; and (3) that his urban-based political background qualified him to be mayor.^^°

329 Nelson, "Electing," p. 140. 330 Ibid., p. 144.

200 After the euphoria of the primary victory the Stokes team immediately went back to work with two strategies. The first was to keep white Democrats in the party fold, while the second goal was to remobilize the black community. Because of the city's racial history Stokes was certain that he could potentially lose thousands of traditional Democrats who could never think about voting for a black Man. Tremendous emphasis was placed on keeping white Democrats, but this would not be easy because of Stokes' tenuous relationship with Porter. In the aftermath of the primary however, Stokes was elevated to prominence within party circles, and he took advantage of this position to move against Porter. Although party unity would be key to a Stokes victory, he felt that he could do it without Porter's influence. So on the day after the primary Stokes publicly called upon Porter to resign as party chair. Stokes interpreted his 18,000 vote victory as a repudiation of the "mud-slinging tactics" used against him in the campaign. He further contended that Porter did not represent the "basic decency" or the "great majority" of the Democratic party. Stokes was obviously referring to Porter's racist allegations in the party newsletter. In closing, Stokes felt that it was in the best interest of the party that Porter resign "forthwith" as county chair so the Democratic party could go forth in unity. Porter quickly answered this request by pledging full support to the Stokes campaign in the general election. "The democratic party traditionally supports the nominee of the primary," Porter declared, "I see no reason why it should be any different in this c a s e . "3 31 While Stokes did not desire Porter's assistance the chairman's endorsement caused other top Democrats such as Locher and Stanton, and other party brass to come aboard the Stokes bandwagon. In addition prominent national Democrats such as Hubert Humphrey and John Bailey, DNC Chair also openly supported Stokes. Although Porter acknowledged that he would support Stokes there was still a great deal of tension between

331 Cleveland Press, 5 October 67; Cleveland Plain Dealer, 5 October 67.

201 the two. But now Stokes was open to reconciliation, but this would be difficult because Stokes and the party leaders rarely communicated. To repair the breach Stokes invited Porter to occupy the head table at a Democratic unity banquet attended by more than 2,000 of the party faithful. Virtually every well-known Democrat including area senators and congresspersons were in attendance, and many of the evening's speakers heaped praise on Stokes. But while the democrats put on a good show of unity for the public, there was still much dissension in the ranks. Noticeably absent from the banquet was Locher and several white councilmen, who failed to show but publicly pledged support. Stokes clearly recognized that the whole "unity" deal was just a charade. Stokes realized that many of the white politicians were there only out of protocol, and that they had no intent of helping the Stokes effort.332

While official Democratic support was not essential in retaining the black vote, it was extremely critical if they were going to receive traditional Democratic voters. Stokes' efforts at attracting white support were boosted when he gained two key endorsements. The first came from the Cleveland AFL-CIO, under the leadership of Patrick O'Malley, the same individual who labeled Locher the only "safe" candidate in the '65 election, and who most recently had supported Locher in the primary. The other endorsement came from Szabadsag, an influential ethnic newspaper. In issuing the endorsement, the paper maintained that Stokes' dynamic leadership could help Cleveland "regain its best place in the front ranks of the progressive, forward-looking, growing American communities." While these endorsements helped, they were not enough, for Stokes needed more visibility in white areas.233

332 p/a/n Dealer, 11 October 67; Nelson, "Electing," p. 150-51, 155. 333 Plain Dealer, 6 October 67; "Newsletter," in Container 3, Folder 46, CBS P a p e r s.

202 To gain visibility Stokes agreed to three debates with Seth Taft. Along with making whites notice him, the debates would give Stokes a chance to display his personality, charisma, and great oratorical skills. On paper a debate seemed to favor Stokes since Taft was relatively unknown, and not a great public speaker. However, even with these advantages, Taft still held an important asset, his whiteness. The first debate was held on the east side, in Stokes territory, at Alexander Hamilton High School. During the session Taft charged that Stokes lacked a specific program, and that he was under the influence of the DNC. While Taft constantly criticized Stokes' ideas, he failed to explain his own plans in great detail. The only idea he discussed in detail concerned establishing branch city halls, with the intent of making the city bureaucracy more accessible. In comparison, Stokes opened his comments by immediately characterizing the mayor's race as a contest between the "grandson of a slave and the grandson of a president," a statement that the predominantly black audience greeted with wide applause. Stokes reiterated this theme throughout his remarks by suggesting that Taft was unfamiliar with the lifestyle of the poor and working-class. Stokes argued that Taft was "accustomed to the remote security of Pepper Pike, " and he had no idea what it meant to be "hungry, without shoes, without clothes," or for his children to go hungry. Although Stokes respected Taft's "intellect" and "integrity," he asked the crowd whether or not they would be willing to "entrust the problem of finding jobs to a person who never knew the shock of the unemployment line in his own life or in his family." By drawing upon his life experiences Stokes literally crushed Taft in front of this black working-class audience. Toward the end of his remarks, Stokes laid out his plans for Cleveland's renewal which included a responsive city hall, a re-organization of the police department, new recreation centers, and a revived urban renewal program.^34 the eyes of the experts, Stokes embarrassed Taft by discussing his

33^ "Transcript of 1st debate between Carl Stokes and Seth Taft," Container 2,

203 wealthy and inexperienced background. This embarrassment was taken hard in the Taft camp but Stokes had to be careful. Stokes' advisers began to caution him about appearing self-confident in the eyes of whites. The threat of white backlash was real. The second debate was held in the hostile white West side at John Marshall High School. To an obviously pro-Taft crowd, Taft spoke in generalities about the problems the city faced, but he saved his best oratory to criticize Stokes. Once again he questioned the influence of outsiders and Stokes' desire to sell city-owned property, criticisms that were greeted with cheers. As Stokes took the rostrum he was cordially greeted with boos as he once again discussed Taft's inability to address urban problems. Stokes then dropped the "bomb" of the campaign, when he gave his reasons why Taft would win the election. "Seth Taft will win the November 7th election for only one reason. That reason is that his skin happens to be white." The crowd booed wildly, forcing the moderator to restore order. Once Stokes resumed he once again addressed the racial issue by quoting Taft as saying: "Carl Stokes has more experience in being a Negro, but that Seth Taft has more experience at being a white man." The crowd booed even more. When the shocked Taft gave his rebuttal, he drove Stokes into the ground. Taft, who had been preparing for a moment like this, pulled out a Stokes campaign ad that read: "Don't vote for a Negro, Vote for a Man," and "Let's do Cleveland Proud," presumably by electing a black mayor. At the end of the debate, political observers generally concluded that Stokes had lost whatever advantage he had won during the first debate. But more importantly, Stokes had lost many white supporters.335

While some critics felt that Stokes' racial statement was done in off-the-cuff fashion, it was well-planned. Ostrow told Stokes to use it and later admitted that it was a

Folder 40, CBS Papers, 279-80, 283-6. Ibid., p. 287-93; Nelson, "Electing," p. 154-5; Plain Dealer, 19 October 67; "The Making of a Mayor," in the Plain Dealer, 10 December 67.

204 calculated risk to meet the race issue "head-on." But while Ostrow called for the tactic, Stokes' campaign manager Dr. Kenneth Clement was disturbed by it: "When I watched it on T.V. I wished there was a third candidate I could vote for." Clement knew that if Stokes performed like that in the third and final debate he would "lose." Clement's remarks summed up how many Stokes supporters felt about the maneuver. But in defense of his tactic, Ostrow contended that although the comment would probably cost Stokes some votes on the West side, "it was probably worth 10,000 votes in the black community. " Ostrow was not as naive as many believed. He knew that the race card was the underlying issue, so he chose to bring it out front. But in the eyes of Stokes' workers, they assumed correctly that there would be backlash. In the era of the T.V. this debate was wimessed by approximately 100,000 people, including many white Democrats. There was no doubt that Stokes' comments had a positive effect on Taft's campaign.^ In the aftermath of the second debate, white ethnics of various backgrounds became involved in Taft's campaign, giving a dead campaign a jot of strength. Illustrative of this momentum and backlash were two separate incidents. The first incident was a landlord- tenant dispute over a "Stokes for Mayor" bumper-sticker which the tenant placed on his car, to the dismay of the landlord who asked him to remove it. After the tenant refused he was threatened with eviction. The second incident was of a more violent nature. It involved Stokes' west side co-chair Robert Payne, who was beaten by five white "hoodlums" after he accused them of vandalizing the campaign office. Payne apparently wimessed the vandalism and attempted to stop them, but instead he received the majority of the injuries.337

In the two weeks prior to the campaign the Stokes team received a big boost when his campaign was endorsed by the Plain Dealer and the West Side News. In supporting

3 3 6 "The Making of a Mayor." 337 Plain Dealer, 22 October 67; Cleveland Press, 24 October 67.

205 Stokes’ candidacy the Plain Dealer wrote that Stokes had the "courage" to try new solutions to the problems that "plagued" Cleveland. It further legitimized him as a candidate by praising his experiences as an assistant police prosecutor and a state legislator, and that his "personable," and "articulate" personality had prepared him for the job. In endorsing Stokes the Plain Dealer did not vilify Taft, only emphasizing that he had no experience. "Stokes is a skilled professional. Taft is a pleasant amateur."The West Side News echoed similar sentiments, writing that Stokes would provide a "fiesh and sensible" approach to the needs of the city, and that he was a man of "vision and p u r p o s e . '^^s

While Stokes received these two influential endorsements he was rapidly realizing that he could not count on faithful Democrats to stump for him. In particular sixteen white councilmen refused to endorse him although he was the Democratic nominee. Many of these councilmen represented white communities who were ferociously against the possibility of a black mayor, and they also realized that pushing for Stokes could jeopardize their own careers, a risk they were not about to take. Several black political leaders likewise refused to support Stokes. In particular Jean Murrell Capers and the League of Non-Partisan Voters, the group who initially drafted Stokes to run in 1965. The League believed that Taft's qualities were "superior" to those of his opponents and that he had the "broad personal knowledge" necessary to govern the city. Conversely, the endorsement claimed that Stokes did not know "anything," that his program was too "superficial," and that he did not have the "knowledge" nor "understanding" to solve the city's problems. It appears that ever since Stokes dismissed Capers in the 1965 campaign, her modus operandi was to crush any of Stokes' pohticalaspirations.339 A week before the election, Taft's popularity grew dramatically on the West side as they held parades, rallies, and festivals in his honor. But Taft was still behind in various

3 3 8 Plain Dealer, 22 October 67; "Flyer," in Container 3, Folder 46, CBS Papers. 339 Cleveland Press, 24 October 1967; Plain Dealer, 30 October 67.

206 pre-election poils. To make up the difference Taft began questioning Stokes’ integrity and character, by criticizing Stokes for buying his mother a home in Shaker Heights, and by also questioning Stokes' visibility in Cleveland during the periods of racial turbulence. But to Taft's dismay Stokes answered these charges, winning more votes in the process. "Do I have to be ashamed my mother was a scrubwoman," he declared, "when I have an opportunity to give her a house all of us would want to have should a snide remark be made about that?" In response to Taft's comments about Stokes' alleged invisibility, Stokes quickly retorted that he was in the streets while Taft was in his "mansion out in Pepper Pike." That Stokes had to answer questions about his integrity was shocking. Although Stokes had many enemies on both sides of the Cuyahoga few questioned his character.3^0

Stokes and Taft held two more debates in the week leading up to the election. The third debate was a rehash of old points while the fourth debate saw Stokes pull out his "ace." At the annual City Club debate on the Saturday before the election, Taft continued his attacks on Stokes. This time he stressed Stokes' near-record absenteeism in the state legislature, with the broader implications being that Stokes would be an absentee mayor. In response Stokes produced a letter that read: "The reports I hear of your performance in Columbus are excellent and I congratulate you on the job." It was signed "Seth Taft. "3'* ' On the eve of the election, Richard Maher, Cleveland Press political editor, predicted that Stokes would win the election by a narrow margin, and on November 7 Carl Stokes was elected the fiftieth mayor of Cleveland with 129,396 votes to Taft's 127,717 votes. With less than a .06% margin Stokes had made history as the first black mayor of a major city. When the election results were announced at 3:00 AM, Stokes gave a brief victory speech in front of four-hundred enthusiastic supporters. "I can say to you that

Plain Dealer, 26 October 67. "Making of a Mayor,” p. 52.

207 never before have I known the full meaning of 'God Bless America,"’ he observed. He continued his speech by telling his workers that he needed the support of "all the residents of the city" to build Cleveland into a first-rate town. Needless to say his supporters wanted to hear more, but Stokes quickly left the celebration. Now that power had been attained, and even bigger struggle lay ahead, the application of power. 3^2 Stokes’ election was the culmination of nearly a century of protest by black Clevelanders. Beginning in the early 1870s black voters sought change at the voting booth. As conditions of the East side continued to worsen, they relied on both legal and extralegal protest methods. These acts of class-based resistance eventually led them to elect the first black mayor of a major city.

342 Cleveland Press, 8 November 67; Plain Dealer, 8 November 67.

208 CHAPTER 5

A BRIEF HONEYMOON

As the nations’ first big-city black mayor, Stokes faced enormous expectations. First, he was to redevelop a dying city. Second, he was expected to immediately redress black grievances. Lastly, he was to prevent the outbreak of racial violence. While the first eight months of the Stokes administration accomplished these goals, his plans for reform evaporated with the Glenville shootout, a gun battle between local black nationalists and police officers. This incident left seven dead, including three white policeman. Thus, the honeymoon was short-lived. I On the afternoon following his election Stokes gave his victory address as mayor- elect at the annual Future of Cleveland luncheon, sponsored by the Cleveland Convention and Visitors Bureau. In his address Stokes stressed that the citizens of Cleveland had to unite in order to solve the city's Uls. With a unified city, combined with federal and state support, and private industry, Cleveland would "insure" its comeback. Stokes asked his guests to forget about the racist campaign between him and Taft, and look forward to the future. He closed by stating prophetically: "I promise you a lot of interesting things will be happening in our town in the next few years." And when Stokes was installed as the

209 fiftieth Mayor of Cleveland on November 13, 1967, interesting things did begin to happen^w3

Since Stokes had received considerable support from Cleveland's business community, the media reaction to his election was favorable. Thomas Vail, editor of the Cleveland Press wrote that Stokes’ election was a "symbol of new things." Stokes' election broke the long caretaker condition of Cleveland mayors, who kept taxes low, yet also offered only minimal city services. However, according to Vail, Stokes would now have the opportunity to take Cleveland "into the big time," after a long era of stagnation. The Plain Dealer offered similar comments, but added that Stokes shouldered an "awesome task." In addition, it stated the obvious, "Any mayor's job is tough," it observed, "for Stokes it will be doubly so."344

While the Press and Plain Dealer were diplomatic in their praise of Stokes' victory, the Call and Post was unashamedly thinking race first in its adoration of the election. W.O. Walker, Call and Post editor, characterized Stokes' victory as a triumph of the "American Dream." While Walker credited Stokes for the victory, he also heaped praise on Cleveland's black community, which had put aside their differences and united around Stokes' candidacy. Walker proclaimed it a "victory for everybody," including "the school kid in the street, to the highest level of campaign workers who took the Stokes story to the streets." Still, Walker reminded his readers that Stokes was not God: "We elected a meat man, not a miracle worker." Walker cautioned his readers not to expect years of injustice "corrected overnight," and requested that they not place any "undue burdens" on Stokes. But, Walker added, "this does not mean that we will exempt him from consideration of our many problems," since after all, "we have been so long and so far out of the picture, our claims must have high priorities." In closing. Walker asked his readers to "prevent racial

3^*3 Cleveland Plain Dealer, 9 November 67; Cleveland Press, 9 November 67. 344 Ibid.

210 trouble of any kind," because there were many citizens "who would like to embarrass our

mayor, or try to make him afailure."3‘^5

Although the local media portrayed the victory in favorable terms, local residents had mixed reactions, generally along racial lines, about the newly elected mayor. Roughly speaking, most black residents looked at the Stokes administration as a way of correcting past injustices, while whites were split on the new mayoralty. Joseph Defans, a blue-collar worker from the lower East side was definitely sure that Stokes was "going to be good for the city." Lamar Highsmith, 11th grader at East Tech High School called the Stokes victory a "good sign" of things to come. "Everything will be alright if Stokes carries out his plans," stated Johnetta Thomas of 1454 Lakeview. Apparently Thomas had seen campaign promises come and go after election time. While Defans, Highsmith, and Thomas were optimistic that Stokes would be good for the city, black youth saw a larger victory in Stokes' historic election. Mitchell Rogers of East 81st Street stated that Stokes "gives me a lot of hopes, maybe everyone, black and white, will realize they are brothers under the same skin." Fifteen-year old Debbie Smith remarked that Stokes "makes Negroes proud, makes us want to work harder." Norris Bunch, a ninth grader at Addision Junior High was inspired by Stokes’ Horatio Alger rags-to-riches life: "I know he was a high school dropout...but he finished and went on to college. If he can make good, why can't I?" While these youngsters felt their self-esteem rise with Stokes' election, other youths believed that Stokes as mayor would mean better economic opportunities. Billy Henson, age twenty, felt that Stokes could open up jobs for him: "Stokes understands our problems. He lived with us. He knows what the black man thinks. Maybe he’ll open up better jobs for us." Pennington Charles, unemployed, reserved his job hunting until after Stokes' election: "Maybe employers will judge my skills now as a man . and not as a

Call and Post, 18 November 67.

211 Negro." The black elderly were also elated with Stokes. Hattie Melton believed that Stokes would solve the problem of juvenile delinquency. "I hope Mr. Stokes can get the teenagers off street comers. I have four children and I want them to get an education, not get into street trouble." Phil Fielder, area landlord, echoed many of Melton's statements: "Some of these hard-core kids need a good kick in the pants, maybe Stokes will do it."^'*^ Unlike the optimism of the large segment of Cleveland's black residents, Cleveland’s white community was divided on Stokes. Dr. R.L. Brown of Rocky River, regretted the election outcome. "I don't think Stokes is as intelligent as Taft, even though he speaks well." One white citizen, who refused to be identified, answered the question, "Do you think this will be good for Cleveland?, " with an emphatic "I don't. " Frank Angst felt that Stokes was the right man for the job, but warned, "a lot of colored people are going to be disappointed if they expect special treatment," since Stokes would treat people as "individuals." Phil Harris of Shaker Heights believed that Stokes was in a good position to solve the city's problems. She particularly liked the idea of Stokes and the Federal government building a relationship: "we'll get a lot more push from people in Washington." Jon Keever, area salesman, also liked Stokes but felt that he would always be in a Catch 22, "if he does something for whites, Negroes will object, if he does something for Negroes, whites will object."3^7

Since Stokes' victory was historic his election made news throughout the country and the world. Many of the national headlines emphasized Stokes' rags-to-riches life. The Baltimore News American ran the headline, "Stokes: A Symbol of New Things," while stating that he was a product of urban slums and a high-school dropout. "Slum-Child Stokes Became Somebody," read the headline in the Baltimore Evening-Sun, while the Pittsburgh Press' headline was straight to the point: "Cleveland Elects Ex-Slum Dweller."

346 Cleveland Press, 10 November 67. Cleveland Plain Dealer, 9 November 67.

212 The Washington D C. Star's front-page headline read "From Slums to Mayor." Readers of the Wilmington(DE) Evening-Journal woke up to the headline: "High-School Dropout, Stokes Rose from Slums." While these papers used Stokes' childhood to hook its readers, the majority of political theorists and political editors labeled November 7th as the day of a "significant political breakthrough," and a "new era in urban politics," since Richard Hatcher was elected mayor of Gary, Indiana, the same day, making him that city's first African-American mayor.^'*^ As political theorists were characterizing the elections of Stokes and Hatcher as a great step forward in black politics, they also saw in their election a validation of the "ballot-box" over the militant rhetoric of the burgeoning black power movement, which believed that electoral politics was not the avenue to take for freedom. Whimey Young writing in the D.C. News stated that November 7th was a "great day," before he lashed out at the black power advocates. Both the LondonTimes and the London Daily Mirror jumped on the anti-black power bandwagon as well, while praising Stokes, Hatcher, and the liberal whites that voted for them. The Daily Mirror stated that this was not "a victory for black power or racialism," but a victory for democratic thinking. Likewise Timesthe argued that the elections stood for "ordered change, which is an anathema to those who hail the burning of cities as the beginning of race war and who exclude white-skinned Americans from their endeavors." In closing, it proclaimed, "laurels of the victory go to MLK rather than Stokely Carmichael.''^*^^ II

348 Baltimore News American, 8 November 67; Baltimore Evening-Sun, 8 November 67; Pittsburgh Press, 8 November 67; Wilmongton Evening Journal, 8 November 67; Waterttown Times, 8 November 67; Long Beach Press Telegram, 8 November 67. 349 Cleveland Press, 9 November 67.

213 Immediately after the election Stokes set about the task of creating a governing coalition by picking cabinet members. His first appointments came less that twenty-four hours after his election. He dismissed Safety Director John McCormick and Police Chief Richard Wagner, replacing them with Joseph McManamon and Michael Blackwell, both veterans in the department. That Stokes made these appointments so soon after his election illustrated that he was serious about police reform. The black working-class applauded these moves, but the Fraternal Order of Police (FOP) expressed dismay at the selections, largely because they realized that both McManamon and Blackwell were under Stokes' control.^5® In other appointments, Stokes named Dormand Witzke, former Director of the Little Hoover Commission, finance director, and Municipal Judge Paul D. White, resigned his judgeship to become the city's first black Law Director. Although Stokes initially wanted to appoint a white attorney to that post, community leaders told him to appoint an Afiican- American. This was critical because according to city law, the Law director becomes the acting mayor whenever the mayor is out-of-town, is unable to fulfill his duties, or dies in office. With the likely possibility that Stokes could be the target of an assassin's bullet, these activists wanted to be sure that City Hall remained in black hands. With one-third of his cabinet now filled political pundits were awaiting the most important appointment of all, director of community development, the official title of the person in charge of urban renewal. However, before making that appointment Stokes sought to build up support from the city's business community and federal and state government, since their support for urban renewal would be critical to the success of the Community Development Department.351

Call and Post, 9 November 67; Cleveland Press, 14 November 67. Interview with Stanley Tolliver, 4 November 97.

214 Since Stokes' candidacy had the support of the city's business community, Stokes had to provide influential citizens a voice in the city's affairs. This overture to the business community was in direct contrast to Locher's approach to big business. Shortly after taking office, Stokes publicly stated that Cleveland's business leadership would be given a "prominent" role in his administration. One of Stokes' main supporters was Ralph Besse, Chairman of the Illuminating Company, and Director of the Irmer-City Action Committee. Along with Besse, Stokes enlisted the help of other executives, such as Paul Unger of the Unger Corporation, John Dowed of Squire, Sanders, and Dempsey, Professor Alan Feneroff of Case Western Reserve University, and John Feckler, Vice President of the Cleveland Development Foundation, to serve on his urban renewal task force. In trying to revitalize the inner-city, Stokes accepted help from all sources. While this team was officially labeled a task force, it was also designed in such a way to give local power brokers a voice in the new administration. In addition to the urban renewal team Stokes also appointed William Stein as a liaison to Washington and Columbus to promote urban- based legislation.352

The Stein appointment was critical to Stokes' overall plan. Hiring a cabinet member in Washington solely for the purpose of promoting legislation and lobbying for federal funds was a shrewd move. Unlike Locher whose neglect caused Cleveland to lose millions of dollars in urban renewal funds, Stokes was determined to build a healthy relationship with lawmakers and Stein's appointment was a step in that direction. Although Stein was in charge of Washington and Columbus, Stokes made two widely publicized trips to these capitals just weeks after his election in hopes of making Stein's job a bit easier.

Cleveland Plain Dealer, 21 November 67, 27 December 67; Cleveland Press, 28 November 67.

215 In late November, Stokes and several of his cabinet members traveled to Columbus to request additional state funding from Governor James Rhodes. Although Stokes and Rhodes were in different parties, they often supported similar legislation. Throughout Stokes' legislative career he dismissed party loyalty and voted with Rhodes on several key GOP-sponsored issues. Early in his career, Stokes twice voted for the Republican- sponsored reapportionment proposals, and in 1967 Stokes again broke party ranks and actively supported Rhodes' controversial Ohio Bond Commission Plan. Lastly, Stokes was also one of the only few Democratic legislators endorsing the newly created department of urban affairs. Thus, although they were not in the same party, Rhodes and Stokes knew each other well and had worked together on many different issues. The Stokes team headed for Columbus confident that they would secure additional funding. After all since Stokes was the first black mayor, so surely Rhodes would not turn him down, or so the story went. While this was conventional wisdom, Rhodes flatly denied Stokes' request by arguing that the state had little power in helping its cities solve their problems. Stokes was particularly upset regarding the question of matching funds for urban renewal. He knew that Rhodes’ support was critical if Cleveland would be successful in getting the federal freeze on their urban renewal funds lifted. In essence, Stokes needed to show HUD authorities that Cleveland had the support of its own governor. Stokes could not exactly understand why Rhodes denied his request because the problem of urban decay did not stop at Cleveland's city limits, it affected the surrounding communities as well. Although flatly denying any matching urban renewal funds, Rhodes did offer several suggestions, albeit rather generic. For instance, although Rhodes labeled the lack of low-income housing as Cleveland's biggest problem, he offered nothing substantial in the way of advice other than telling Stokes that he should petition Congress for pertinent legislation. While Stokes did not get the support he wanted, he left with the impression that Rhodes would look out for Cleveland's needs in the upcoming legislative

216 session. Stokes appeared optimistic after the meeting, but many of his cabinet members were furious. Doward Witzke, city finance director, was particularly upset: "we came out with a batting average of .000, we asked for money and didn't get any. But we learned how they gradually say no." In spite of his refusal to give Cleveland additional dollars, Rhodes pledged to cooperate with Stokes. He even asked Stokes to accompany him on his armual trip to New York City designed to attract new industry to Ohio. Stokes accepted the invitation, knowing that he could not afford to pass up the opportunity to meet

approximately two-hundred topexecutives.353

In speaking before the assembled business leaders, Stokes bluntly told them that they were welcome and wanted in Cleveland. "Cleveland needs industry, Cleveland wants industry. We deeply appreciate your investments in Cleveland but we re not satisfied." Stokes promised them that "in Cleveland you will find a new attitude, you will find that we really care about your problems. This is a personal commitment." He went on to explain why their support was critical to Cleveland's revitalization: "because jobs are so essential, so basic to Cleveland's success, I need your help. I humbly ask your help." In closing, Stokes remarked that just as he was creating a city government responsive to the needs of the people, he was creating a city government that would be responsive to the needs of the business community as well. The speech was well received and Stokes went back home ready to make additional cabinet appointments, and begin his job of managing the city .3^"* In late December Stokes filled two more cabinet positions. Ralph Tyler, Stokes' second black appointee, was named city service director, and Ben Stefanski, Jr., a former banking official, and son of a bank president, was named utilities director. The appointment of Stefanski puzzled many because his father was a prominent supporter of

333 Cleveland Press, 25 November 67, 26 November 67, 29 November 67; Cleveland Plain Dealer, 26 Novembe 67; 334 Cleveland Plain Dealer, 6 December 67; Cleveland Press, 5 December 67.

217 Locher. Observers were puzzled even more when it was learned that Stokes had no prior relationship with him, in fact they had only met at Stokes' inaugural reception. This was purely a political appointment. This caused many of Stokes' critics to suggest that Stokes was playing "politics as usual. " Stefanski was Stokes' second political appointment, the first had come days earlier when John Little was named executive assistant to the mayor. Little's father was the senior parmer of the oldest and most prestigious law firm in town, and Little himself had practiced corporate tax law with other major firms in the area. When Stokes was criticized about these appointments, he stated that he would never make appointments on the basis of politicking, but purely based upon one's qualifications. Only the politically naive would believe this.^^s III At the start of the year Stokes took a ten day vacation to the Virgin Islands to get a temporary retreat from the activity generated by his election. As he was vacationing Stokes became faced with the first crisis in his administration when it was discovered that Geraldine Williams, one of his executive assistants and a long-time supporter, was linked with an illegal after-hours nightclub. Upon notification of William's involvement in the club one week after his election, Stokes specifically questioned her about the allegations, and she responded that she had divorced herself from the operation. However, the issue resurrected itself while Stokes was on vacation. The ClevelandPress broke the story with the headline, "Mayor's Aide Linked to Cheat Spot." An undercoverPress reporter allegedly gathered evidence over a five-week period by purchasing beer and whiskey on Sundays, which was against state law. The reporter also revealed that although the club was allowed to sell alcohol to its members, he freely purchased alcohol without anyone

355 Interview with Benjamin Stefanski, Jr., Container 7, Folder 106, CBS Papers; Stokes, "Promises," p. Ill; Call and Post, 30 December 67.

218 asking his membership status. Williams’ involvement was made public when her signature was found on the state liquor permit, club minutes, and canceled checksr^* Since Stokes was away,Press reporter Dick Feagler informed acting mayor Paul White, who immediately called Stokes in the Virgin Islands. Stokes told White and his campaign manager, now executive assistant, Ken Clement to have Safety Director Joseph McManamon acquire the copies of the written evidence and take them to a handwriting expert for analysis. The handwriting expert reported that all of the signatures were in fact Williams'. Now faced with his first dilemma, Stokes struggled about what action to take. Some of his supporters wanted him to fire her immediately because of her dishonesty. Others wanted Stokes to defend her because she had spearheaded the Stokes-for-Mayor drives. Making the situation even more difficult was that Stokes was out of town, he was inexperienced, and the local media were placing pressure on him to dismiss her. After much thought and discussion with White and Clement, Stokes decided to fire her, feeling that he needed to keep his administration above "reproach." In a statement to the press Stokes exploited this idea: "The imperatives of this administration require maximum integrity and the public must be able to maintain confidence at all times in those administering their efforts."357

Stokes' decision to fire Williams received a mixed reaction in the black community. They realized that Stokes' mayoralty was something never before done in the history of African-America, thus they understood that Stokes needed to maintain the integrity of his administration. However, some found it difficult to digest that Stokes dismissed Williams knowing how instrumental she had been throughout Stokes' political career.^ss

3 5 6 Cleveland Press, 16 January 68, 15 January 68. 357 Cleveland Press, 17 January 68; Cleveland Plain Dealer, 18 January 68; Call and Post, 20 January 68; Interview with Walter Burks, Container 6, Folder 97, CBS Papers; Interview with Dick Murway, Container 7, Folder 104; 3 5 8 Call and Post, 27 January 68.

219 Much of the criticism of the affair was directed towards the Cleveland Press. The carefully timed publication of the story fooled no one. Editors released the story knowing that Stokes would be unable to do damage control since he was out of the country. Furthermore, many citizens could not fathom why the club was labeled a "cheat spot," since throughout its twenty-year existence it had only two violations for illegal sales. Some were even more skeptical about the whole expose, such as Elliott Pogue, owner of the club, and Williams' former husband. Pogue felt that the whole incident as reported in the Press was a complete fabrication. Even if it were true, he argued, "this record compares favorably with that of the exclusive union club," referring to an all-white club downtown. Pogue, like many others felt that this story was designed to weaken the Stokes administration, since he was never asked specifically about William's involvement or the club's operation in general. Echoing Pogue's statements were Call and Post editor W.O. Walker, who labeled Williams a "sacrificial lamb" caught up in the calculated attempt to "smear" the image of Stokes. In his autobiography, Stokes states that when the crisis arose he "panicked" in firing her, and regrets the way he handled the situation. In recalling the incident, Stokes wrote: "I wish I could undo what I did, I lost probably one of the four or five most trusted and loyal people I have ever been around in public office." The Williams incident would be the first of many attempts to embarrass the Stokesadm inistration.359 IV Many of Stokes’ allies saw the Williams affair as the first major battle between Stokes and his enemies. Earlier that week Council President Jim Stanton made several moves that indicated he was preparing to fight Stokes on many levels. First he appointed longtime black conservative Jack Oliver as Chief of Council's information bureau. Second, he reorganized several committees and strengthened his power by giving his

359 Ibid.

220 supporters powerful committee assignments, with the intent of neutralizing Stokes' power. The battle-lines had been drawn in what would eventually turn into a power struggle between the two. But now Stokes was facing another crisis with the rank and file of the

Cleveland Police Departm ent.360

After appointing McManamon and Blackwell to head the notorious CPD, Stokes asked them to reorganize the department, with the underlying goal of increasing police protection by creating twenty-five new zones of basic patrol. To accomplish this Stokes instructed them to move those on light-duty assignments to active patrol. Stokes' recommendations were based on the report of the Little Hoover Commission, which stated that the CPD had a disproportionate number of patrolmen assigned to light duty. Stokes' intent was to place additional officers in the high-crime areas. Prior to Stokes' election every single zone had the same amount of cars and men regardless of the population and crime rate. The transfers were to occur by December 1st, less than one month after Stokes entered office.^^ i

Although McManamon and Blackwell were supposed to supervise the transfers, they delegated that responsibUity to several of their subordinates, men who just happened to be anti-Stokes. In reassigning the men, several captains and lieutenants "made the transfers as awkward, embarrassing, and infuriating to the police as possible." Instead of just moving desk personnel to active patrol, they made illogical transfers. For instance, they took an officer out of a busy intersection, leaving angry residents and motorists to fend for themselves. They also took longtime veterans firom the West side and moved them clear across town to the far East side. After making these awkward transfers, the police personnel involved told the Fraternal Order of Police that it was ordered by Stokes and

360 Cleveland Press, 15 January 68; Call and Post, 10 February 68. 361 Stokes, "Promises," p. 176; Interview with Thomas Monahan, Container 7, Folder 104, CBS Papers; Interview with Joseph McManamon, Container 7, Folder 103, CBS Papers.

221 McManamon, not Blackwell. Selling the anti-Stokes/McManamon innuendo were four men. Captain George Sperber, Inspector Albert Wallace, Lieutenant Henry Doberstein, and Inspector Steve Szereto. These four actually ran the department at their own discretion; Blackwell was merely a figurehead, but he was tied in with the anti-Stokes officers. For example, on December 8th, after 250 transfers had been made, McManamon caught Blackwell transferring twenty-five men from the newly created East Side zones back to the predominantly white, low-density. West Side. In actuality, Blackwell was trying to undo what Stokes and McManamon were trying to create.^^z

In spite of the deliberate mishandling of the transfers, the overall reorganization was well received by the black poor and working-class. For instance, many of the officers transferred were from specific units such as desk detail, mounted police, traffic bureau, ports and harbors, and the helicopter unit, areas that excluded black officers. In addition, the CPD Task Force, which had gained a reputation for brutality and harassment, was reorganized. In other moves Black officers were assigned to the previously all-white West Side, and all officers were ordered to stop wearing their white helmets, largely due to the complaints by black residents that it created a Gestapo-likeatm osphere.363 The rank-and-file patrolmen were incensed at the reorganization, and they largely placed the blame on Stokes and McManamon, although Szereto and others had supervised the clumsly transfers. What angered the officers in particular was that they felt that Stokes and McManamon had no legal right to make the transfers. In their opinion it was against the city charter. Other officers felt that Stokes was interfering with Blackwell's duties by not letting him run the department. By late January, when the reorganization was

3 6 2 McManamon Interview; Stokes, "Promises," p. 177. Stokes, "Promises," p. 176; Chief Michael Blackwell to CPD Personnel, re: "Transfers," 30 November 67, Container 82, Folder 1589, CBS Papers; Safety Director Joseph McManamon, 8 May 68, Container 82, Folder 1589, CBS Papers; Inspector Steve Szereto to Chief Michael Blackwell, re: "Transfers," 8 May 68, Container 82, Folder 1589, CBS Papers.

222 complete, a severe loss of morale set in amongst the rank and file, because Stokes had broken up their elite-segregated units, integrated precincts, all indicating that he planned to play an active role in the affairs of the CPD.364

In protest, officers stopped enforcing the law in high crime areas. Throughout January 1968 there was a noticeable decline in arrests, particularly for vice crimes such as numbers, policy, and after hours drinking. In addition, large numbers of officers began calling in sick, and men were calling in complaining of mechanical breakdowns in cars, all in an apparent attempt to make the Stokes administration look bad by negating any administrative efforts to put more officers on the street. The "reorganization" fiasco was the first showdown between Stokes and the CPD. In many ways Stokes' organizational ideas and the response of the CPD set the tone for future relations.365

Stokes then turned his attention to the problem of urban renewal. By mid-February Stokes still had not named a community development director, partly because Cleveland was still ineligible to receive federal funds for urban development. In January 1967 HUD secretary Robert Weaver cut off Cleveland's funds after the Locher administration failed to heed HUD's warning that unless they made some progress in their large-scale programs the city would lose millions in federal dollars. The majority of renewal programs launched under Locher, and his predecessor, Anthony J. Celebreeze, never made it out of the Phase 1-Demohtion stage. No new housing was ever built, and few families received relocation assistance. Now that Stokes was mayor he was determined to use City Hall to redevelop Cleveland's inner-city. But first he needed to find a director, and second he needed to get Cleveland's money restored. To help Stokes get the program back on track, he hired Edward J. Logue of Boston to draft up a forty-five day and a one-hundred eighty day plan of action. This quick plan

364 Interview with Thomas Monohan. 365 Interview with Joseph McManamon.

223 was designed specifically for Stokes because he was serving a two-year term. Logue stated that although the city had "pioneered" in approaches to urban renewal and city planning, it had foundered in "execution." In giving his recommendation to Stokes, Logue suggested that he make recruiting a top-flight director a priority, and that he solicit the support of political, civic, and community groups, at all stages of the project. But more importantly, Logue believed that Cleveland needed a bold and workable program. "Cleveland does not have such a program today. In fact, few cities do. The city must have a program big enough to do the job, bold enough to capture the imagination of the people, sound enough to be workable, and feasible enough to restore federal confidence. For the first forty-five day phase of the program, Logue placed a high priority on streamlining several urban renewal projects such as public housing, code enforcement, a model neighborhood program, and the construction of public facilities, all placed under the jurisdiction of the community development director. For the one-hundred eighty day/Phase n program, Logue suggested that Stokes establish a development program that would integrate housing, city planning and community development. The development program was not for Stokes to oversee on a daily basis, rather, he was to assemble a task force of "urbanists" to handle the day-to-day issues. With Logues' advice, Stokes and the Urban Renewal Task force immediately began to clean up existing projects that HUD had pointed to when withdrawing their dollars. Logue also recommended that Stokes hire a Community Development Director at a salary of $30,000, $5,000 more than the mayor's salary. Logue realized that finding a top-flight urban renewal director would be difficult and he told Stokes to use money as a drawing card.^67

3 6 6 Edward J. Logue to Carl B. Stokes, "Early Action Program," 12 December 67, Container 69, Folder 1309, CBS Papers. 3 6 7 Ibid.; Paul Unger and Urban Renewal Task Force to Carl Stokes, re: "Logue Proposal," 26 December 67, Container 69, Folder 1309, CBS Papers; Paul Unger and Urban Renewal Task Force to Carl Stokes, re: "Logue Proposal," 4 January 68 , Container 69, Folder 1309, CBS Papers.

224 In early February, Stokes and Paul Unger, chair of the Urban Renewal Task Force, prepared a detailed outline of the Task Force's actions taken since Stokes' election, particularly emphasizing the creation of the Task Force, stricter code enforcement, and a reassessment of all existing urban renewal projects. This report was designed to acquaint HUD secretary Robert Weaver of the steps taken, with hopes of getting federal funding restored.368

Although Stokes had begun to move the city's urban renewal programs along, he still faced the task of getting city council on board, a city council led by Stanton, and a city council that had to approve the $30,000 salary for an urban renewal director. When longtime Glenville area Councilman Leo Jackson introduced the legislation authorizing the salary it was met with immediate opposition. Objecting were West side councilmen Jack Banko, Lawrence Duggan, Richard Harmody, Michael Zone, who all claimed to oppose the measure only on principle. They argued that a department director should not have a higher salary than the mayor, while others debated the feasibility of bringing in an expert to handle the city's urban renewal problems. Councilman Zone asked whether or not a local person could do the job, because in his opinion any councilman on the community development committee knew as much about urban renewal than anyone in the city. But in spite of Zone's protest, Stokes made an impassioned plea for the measure by informing council that in order to get a good director, the salary had to be competitive. In this rare instance, reason won out over prejudice and the legislation passed enabling Stokes to offer $30,000 a year to Richard Green, former trouble-shooter for Boston's urban renewal director, Edward Logue^69

368 Carl Stokes To Robert Weaver, 7 February 68, re: "Progress on Sixteen Points," Container 69, Folder 1309, CBS Papers. Cleveland Press, 20 February 68; Cleveland Plain Dealer, 20 February 68; C a ll and Post, 24 February 68.

225 Green's appointment sent optimism throughout the city because it represented an attempt to get the city back on track. In many circles across the nation, Cleveland had become an embarrassment, mainly as a result of its inept urban renewal plan which was the main underlying cause of the Hough riots. The selection of Green was seen as the all important first step toward bringing the community development department "back to life." Still, many observers realized that Green had a tough job waiting for him after years of neglect, bad planning, and incompetence. One writer observed, "there is plenty of trouble for Green to shoot. Cleveland's urban renewal program is bogged down and have been stuck in the mud of inertia and federal disapproval."370

Now that Stokes had made his most important cabinet selection, he faced the task of restoring Cleveland's urban renewal funds. This was critical for two reasons. First, with a city constantly losing its tax base to white-flight and deindustrialization, Stokes would need massive federal aid for his plans to redevelop Cleveland. Second, throughout his campaign he promised voters that if elected he would get Cleveland's dollars restored, now it was time to deliver. One week after Green's appointment, Stokes traveled to Washington to meet with Weaver in an attempt to get the freeze lifted. Prior to the trip Stokes was confident that he could get the money. First because his urban renewal task force had been hard at work, and second because of his recent appointment of Green, whom many considered the best urban renewal man in the country. Joining Stokes at the meeting with Weaver was the entire Congressional representation of Northeastern Ohio, who helped Stokes argue his case. Persuaded, Weaver released the funds, ending the fourteenth-month ban. While doing so Weaver admitted that he was not entirely satisfied with the city's progress, but that since Stokes and the city had taken considerable steps to rectify the problem he felt confident in approving Cleveland for more funds. In addition to lifting the

370 Cleveland Press, 21 February 68.

226 ban, Stokes also persuaded Weaver to lift the requirement that Cleveland make monthly reports to HUD offices to show the city's efforts toward urban renewal, a task which had gotten to be tedious. The local media. City Council, and area residents all applauded Stokes’ ability to get the funds released. The Plain Dealer characterized HUD's reversal as a "triumph" for Stokes ±at put Cleveland back in business while "vindicating" the faith of voters. The Call and Post echoed many of the same sentiments under the headline "Stokes Makes Good on Campaign Promise." While Stokes took credit for getting the ban lifted, those inside the Stokes camp knew that President Lyndon Baines Johnson worked behind the scene. In the midst of urban unrest, LBJ instructed Vice-President Hubert Humphrey to keep close ties with the mayors of key cities. Since Stokes' unsuccessful try in 1965, the White House and Stokes had maintained good relations, causing LBJ to open up opportunities for the Stokes team.^^! Hough residents were especially pleased at Stokes' success in getting the money because the riot-tom area was to be the principal beneficiary of the grant. After armouncing his success in Washington, Stokes informed the city that a large portion of the funds would go towards low-income housing on Crawford Road, directly off Hough. More specifically, the Stokes administration hoped to immediately build eighty-eight units, with the eventual goal being three-hundred new units. Stokes, never one to avoid the spotlight, milked the opportunity at an outdoor press conference held in Hough. "Urban renewal, under any administration is going to be what the people want, it's going to make this and other neighborhoods better places to live...right here is where we are going to start making headway against the problems which piled up in the last twenty years and which almost wore down yourpatience."^?^

Cleveland Press, 1 March 68, 9 March 68; Cleveland Plain Dealer, 2 March 68 , 5 March 68; 10 March 68; Call and Post, 9 March 68. Call and Post, 9 March 68.

I ll Stokes' success in getting the HUD funds released earned him many supporters throughout the city. On the heels of Locher’s ineptness, Stokes' ability to get anything done looked remarkable. Particularly impressed with Stokes' success in Washington was the Cleveland business community which had been hit hard under the Locher administration on two levels. One, Locher refused their assistance, and two, the city's image had become bad for business and industry. Along with the business elite, several West Side councilman also applauded Stokes' efforts. Although many of them played the poUtics of racial polarization, all agreed that HUD money was good for the city. V As Stokes' popularity continued to escalate in the wake of HUD, he was faced with another potential crisis. On the evening of April 4th Stokes occupied a platform with columnist Carl T. Rowan at Baldwin-WaUace College. As he was listening to Rowan speak he was handed a note telling of Martin Luther King Jr.'s assassination. After Rowan informed the audience Stokes observed; "this is a tragic day in our country...," and then still visibly shaken, he remarked "1 am going to have to leave." The fact that he was in shock was not the only reason Stokes left immediately. Stokes had promised that he could prevent racial unrest, and all of his credibility would erode if Cleveland exploded; however, if he kept the peace, his stature would reach new heights.373

When word of King's death hit black urban America, violence erupted in nearly every major city. New York City, Chicago, Detroit, and Washington were scenes of the heaviest rioting as blacks took to the streets in protest. Thousands of other black citizens in Hartford, Connecticut, Columbus, Ohio, and Newark, New Jersey, and in smaller cities such as Raleigh, North Carolina, Jackson, Mississippi, Tallahassee, Florida, and Tyler, Texas, rioted as well. In all, 110 cities witnessed riots leaving thirty-nine dead, causing the

Cleveland Plain Dealer, 5 April 68; Cleveland Press, 5 April 68.

228 mobilization of 75,000 national guardsmen. Black youth were shocked at King's assassination and they took their frustration out on whiteproperty.374

Immediately after Stokes left the college meeting he went to local TV stations pleading for racial peace: "I appeal to all Clevelanders to do honor to the memory of MLK by reacting to this tragic loss in the peaceful manner in which he lived." In making his appeal Stokes admitted that bitterness could be "understood," but he stressed that violent reaction would be an injustice to King. As law enforcement across the country responded to racial violence in the traditional manner, Stokes took a different route. To quell any nascent unrest, Stokes, members of his cabinet, black nationalists, ministers, and other community leaders patrolled the East side for several days after the assassination. Throughout the crisis Stokes went with his patrol team appealing for peace. His message to youth was simple, "keep it cool." Most responded, "we will. " Along with Stokes, local black nationalist leaders such as Baxter HiU and Rev. DeForrest Brown also went beyond the call of duty to keep Cleveland cool. For instance, when a potentially troublesome situation occurred, a call would be placed to Hül, who was running a twenty-four hour command post. Hill would then dispatch community leaders out to quell the tensions. Throughout the evening of King's death, Bertram Gardner, director of the Community Relations Board, worked closely with Hill and others. In his efforts to keep the peace, Stokes also received help from several old friends, such as Geraldine Williams, who during the crisis worked closely with Afro-Unity Circle, a coalition of violent black nationalist organizations. This effort by Stokes and other leaders paid off. While virtually every other major city experienced massive rioting, Cleveland was free of racial violence, largely as a result of Stokes' relationship with the black poor and disenfranchised, and also members of the black elite who offeredassistance.^^s

374 York Times, 5 April 68, 7 April 68, 9 April 68. 375 Minutes of the Community Relations Board, Executive Board Meeting, 11

229 Stokes' ability to keep Cleveland calm was cheered throughout the metropolitan area by both his supporters and enemies. The Plain Dealer led off the praise by labeling the effort "Good Work by City Leaders." They attributed Stokes' success to his ability to "communicate" to the people, which enabled Cleveland to escape the immediate "madness" that erupted throughout the country." Individual citizens also expressed pleasure at Stokes' efforts. Patrick Graham of the West side felt that Stokes' actions "merit great recognition and praise. " Richard Seelback of Brunswick believed that Stokes and "the people of Cleveland's Ghetto, " were to be "commended." He also expressed that the city "owed" Stokes a tremendous debt of gratitude for keeping Cleveland from taking part in what she termed "this horrible sadistic revenge." Mr. and Mrs. James Bennettt were thankful that Stokes' "commitment," "intelligence," and "concern" were guiding the "destiny" of Cleveland through this time of "tragic mourning." A.I. Davey, editor of the Cleveland Citizen, gave Stokes credit for calling in the peace patrol to keep the lid on unrest. In Davey's opinion, Stokes' actions following the assassination had done more to bring the races together "than has ever been accomplished previously in one full year." Particularly impressed with Stokes' actions was the city's business sector, which was thinking in terms of the city's image for business purposes. Neil J. Carruthers, president of the University Circle Development Foundation, offered Stokes his sincere "congratulations," and "appreciation," for saving lives and preventing "substantial property loss."376 Although black Clevelanders did not resort to violence, there was still quite a bit of frustration over King's death. In response to this community outrage, Cleveland CORE

April 68, Container 88, Folder 1745, CBS Papers; Cleveland Plain Dealer, 9 April 68 . 376 Cleveland Plain Dealer, 7 April 68; Graham to Stokes, 1 May 68, Container 23, Folder 106, CBS Papers; Seelback to Stokes, 6 April 68, Container 23, Folder 404, CBS Papers; Bennett to Stokes, 8 April 68, Container 23, Folder 404, CBS Papers; Davie to Stokes, Carruthers to Stokes, 8 April 68, Container 23, Folder 404, CBS P a p e r s .

230 called for an official day of mourning, asking all 300,000 black citizens not to report to work in observance of "black Tuesday." Don Bean, local chair of CORE, went to all three television stations calling for a city-wide work stoppage. In Bean's eyes, the community response was "tremendous," as many employers agreed to give their black workers the day off. CORE also used a bit of coercion by threatening to boycott companies that refused to honor the request. Stokes responded to CORE'S request by giving all non-essential employees a half-day off, insisting that all emergency-related workers, such as police, fire, and utilitymen, report to work. "If tragedy were to result because someone left his job to observe the memorial it would be a great disservice to the memory of Dr. King," said Stokes. IBM gave all of its employees the day off, while local department stores remained closed until 12:00 noon. Classes at both Case Western and Cleveland State were suspended for part of the day and memorial programs were scheduled throughout the public school system. Stokes' image after King's death reached new heights, and he was given tremendous exposure in the national media as both an excellent politician and community leader. His versatility puzzled some, as they marveled at how he was able to speak the language of both the boardroom and the poolroom. Since he had been bom in many of the same conditions that faced the 1960s black poor, he was able to deal with their frustration.^^^ VI Stokes capitalized on his popularity after King's assassination by launching "Cleveland Now!," a large-scale urban redevelopment program. In the aftermath of King's death business leaders flooded Stokes with calls asking how they could help maintain racial peace. Stokes reiterated that because of inner-city conditions, the slightest incident could trigger an outbreak. He further exploited this threat by asking for business support. During

377 Interview with Don Bean, Container 6, Folder 97, CBS Papers; C leve la n d Plain Dealer, 9 April 68; Cleveland Press, 8 April 68.

23 1 the week following King's death, the mayor instructed his cabinet members and other city leaders, such as housing specialist Irving Kriegsfeld, to outline a series of needs and priorities as soon as possible. These findings were presented at an April 12th meeting with Stokes, cabinet officials, and business leaders such as Thomas Patton, President of Republic Steel, Cleveland Indians owner Vernon Stouffer, and Francis Coy, President of the May Company. At the meeting Stokes asked for a $10 million dollar commitment and 11,000jobs for the hard-core unemployed. Days later they agreed to support the project. Two weeks later Stokes released the details of the program to the news media and they agreed to help him market Cleveland Now'.^^s

Cleveland Now! was a $1.5 billion package designed to work on all facets of the city's problems, but particularly housing, over a ten-year period. The short range goals called for a $177 million program over the next twelve months to attack urban problems. The funds were to be a mixture of city, state, federal, and private contributions. The immediate $177 million phase was aimed at six major areas- employment, youth resources, health and welfare, neighborhood rehabilitation, economic revitalization, and city planning. In the employment arena "Cleveland Now!" would undertake to train and employ 11,000 full and part-time workers through job training. The employment aspect was perhaps the most critical behind housing needs. In spite of a county-wide 2.45% unemployment rate, one of the lowest in the country, the inner-city jobless rate was a whopping 15.5%. The 11,000 new jobs were to be a mixture of public/private, while some others would be part- time and seasonal positions. The Aim-Jobs program of the Council for Economic Opportunities in Greater Cleveland was scheduled to create 4,000 jobs, and the National Alliance of Businessmen were signed up to supply another 4,000. Lastly, the job training program of the city in conjunction with the Cleveland Urban League promised 1800 jobs.

Cleveland Plain Dealer, 5 M ay 68;

232 and the U.S. Department of Labor Development and Training promised 2500 positions. For the city's youth, "Cleveland Now!" would oversee a $750,000 program that would provide a wide array of programs such as neighborhood clean-ups, work-training, cultural enrichment, education, and recreation. In health and welfare, Stokes planned to estabUsh ten multi-service health centers and ten day-care centers. The city Planning Commission under "Cleveland Now!" would receive $1.75 million in city and federal funds to create a policy planning and program evaluation center to be used to avoid duplicating and/or overlapping projects. $61 million of the plan was earmarked for economic revitalization to accelerate the existing urban renewal projects, with particular emphasis on downtown development. The greatest expenditure, $86 million, was geared for neighborhood rehabilitation, largely to make available 4600 new and rehabed housing units throughout the city for low-and-middle income families. $20 million of this amount was to be used for housing inspection, while $10 million was to be set aside for home ownership programs. Funds were also earmarked to expand small business opportunities as well.^79 Stokes announced "Cleveland Now!" in a half-hour prime-time television and radio spot that appeared on all area stations. In his presentation of "Cleveland Now!" he stressed that the redevelopment program was critical to the city's revival: "To stop that downhill slide, to start the city moving forward to create a climate in which our city can someday be a great one, we must take that first difficult, giant step." Although Stokes was the initiator of the program, he opined that he needed the support of the entire Cleveland community. "Cleveland Now! is a program which enlists the aid of the total community...business, civic groups, professional people, the news media, and the general public in a concerted effort to assist Cleveland in attacking some of the these most urgent problems, now, in

Cleveland Now! Brochure, Container 1, Folder 5, Cleveland Now! Papers, Western Reserve Historical Society, Cleveland, OH.

233 1968..." In Stokes' eyes this was not his program, but rather the "city's program, which

reflected the combined thinking of the entire com m unity."380

The bulk of the $177 million Cleveland Now! dollars were to come from the federal government, which had agreed to supply $143 million. These various grants were to trigger $22.75 million in matching state and city funds. Donations from private contributors were to make up the balance of the $11.25 million. Of this $11.25 million, Stokes asked the business sector to contribute $10 million, while individual citizens were asked to contribute $1.25 million. Prior to armouncing the plan, Stokes had conferred with the city’s business leaders about the program, and after King's death the business community agreed to support it. Handling the financial end of the program was the Cleveland Development Foundation, along with John Sherwin, President of Pickends, Mather, and Co., and George Dively, President of Harris-Intertype Co. This component of the Now! team was responsible for raising the $10 million from the business community. Heading up the committee to raise the $1.25 million from private citizens was Group 66, an organization of young businessmen, led by George Steinbrenner, President of American Shipbuilding. Other key players in the program were William Adams, Director of the Cleveland Growth Association, and William Silverman, local publicist now on city payroll to improve the city's image.^* • Since the local media had agreed to support Now!, the media reaction was excellent. The Cleveland Plain Dealer asked city residents to "Support Stokes' Plan," which he labeled bold, exciting, and "imaginative." The editorial stressed that Cleveland Now! represented an "opportunity" for civic cooperation, "never before proposed," and that the "challenge" should be answered and the opportunity "grasped." The Cleveland

3 8 0 Cleveland Plain Dealer, 2 May 68; Memo from the Greater Cleveland Growth Association, Container 1, Folder 4, Cleveland Now! Papers. 3 8 1 Cleveland Plain Dealer, 2 May 68; Cleveland Press, 2 May 68.

234 Press echoed many of these themes in its editorial, which ran under the headline "Let's Blast off with Cleveland Now!" The Press characterized Stokes' plan as a break from the past, which it saw as "piecemeal. But this time things are different," the Press declared, "this is a total struggle to be attempted swiftly and decisively." The editorial closed by stating that Stokes' sense of urgency "must become infectious if Cleveland Now! is to succeed."3*2

The optimism created by Cleveland Now! easily trickled down to many of the black poor who correctly assumed that they would be the chief beneficiary of funds. James Terrell, a part-time construction worker from the black East side told reporters that Cleveland Now! was a "wonderful program...we should of had someone like Mayor Stokes here twenty years ago." Arthur Danley was equally excited: "he's the best damn mayor Cleveland ever had." Even suburban whites such as Beney Breimeman of Maple Heights, were ecstatic about Cleveland Now!: "He's the best thing that ever happened to Cleveland. He has brought new blood and new ideas to Cleveland. He has shown who can influence important people with money. Now he seems to be revitalizing the downtown area and I'm for him all the way." Foreigners also jumped in on the Cleveland

Now! hype as Russell Stewart of Montreal felt that the program was "excellent."^83

Politicians reacted with caution, their main concern being the source of the city's financial contribution. Several councilmen openly questioned whether or not the city's contribution could come from within the existing tax structure. The thinking in this camp was that Stokes was exploiting Cleveland Now! to attract support for his proposed .05% tax increase. County Prosecutor John T. Corrigan wondered "where will that money come from?...it seems this program will require additional taxes..." Councilman George Blaha expressed similar feelings: "there was no mention of a city income tax increase, but I don't

382 Cleveland Press, 2 May 68; Cleveland Plain Dealer, 2 May 68. 3 8 3 Ibid.; Cleveland Press, 1 May 68.

235 know how else Cleveland can come up with its share of the necessary money." Some councilmen, such as Harold Smith, were much more direct, "this is leading up to an income tax increase and I don't know if I can support anin crea se. "3 84

The black masses did not concern themselves with the tax concerns voiced by area politicians. Rather, in "Cleveland Now!" they were hoping for new housing, new health centers, jobs, and opportunities for the city's black youth. Stokes' exploitation of white fears was the key to "Cleveland Nowl's" broad based support. He constantly stressed to the business community that unless they supported a massive redevelopment program, he could not guarantee racial peace. Although Stokes had maintained order after MLK's death, he informed them that there was no insurance against future unrest. These arguments instilled fear throughout the business community, which was still feeling the effects of the Hough Riots, and had most recently witnessed massive property damage in other metropolitan areas in the aftermath of King's assassination. They were determined to keep Cleveland peaceful by any means necessary and Stokes took advantage of their fears. In the days following the announcement private and public donations poured in from across the city, as Stokes set a self-imposed deadline of May 14th to have the $11.25 million raised. With TRW and Ohio Bell each donating $15,000, by noon of the day after the aimouncement $50,000 had already been pledged by business and industry. As the dollars from the business sector came pouring in, individual citizens also began making contributions, including elementary school students such as Karen Mitchell, eleven, who gave $.5 because she "wanted to have a better city to live in." Likewise, schoolmates Wendy Cholston, nine, and her six-year old sister Eileen, sent in a small donation with notes telling Stokes that they hoped the donation was "enough." While thousands of ordinary residents played a role by donating small amounts, Cleveland Now! also received

384 Ibid.

236 huge sums from wealthy Clevelanders such as Dr. Leland Schubert, who made a $1 million dollar donation, and the Lincoln Foundation which gave over $500,000.3*5 To attract widespread support for Cleveland Now!, Group 66 launched a massive advertising campaign. "Cleveland Now!" began to appear on billboards, posters, buttons, bumper stickers, and pennants, all designed to draw donations. There was also a marketing program aimed at the middle-class worker launched under the phrase, "A Day's Pay will Lead the Way, An Hours Pay for a Better Day." The former was intended for salaried employees, the latter for hourly workers. Robert Fearry, chairman of the Group 66 subcommittee in charge of employee solicitation, spearheaded this drive by asking area employers to encourage their workers to give to Now!. However, Ferry made it particularly clear that the employee solicitation was "separate" and "distinct " from the corporate requested contribution. Group 66 also asked that area corporations contribute manpower to Cleveland Now! Lawyers, engineers, accountants, and other professionals were asked to come on board the Now! team for blocks of time. Stokes asked companies to loan their specialists for a short period, with the company still paying the employee's salary, which would count as a contribution. By May 15th, less than two weeks after the program was announced. Group 66 had met its goal of $1.25 million, and the Greater Cleveland Growth Foundation had met its goal of $10 million, largely as a result of a donation from the Cleveland Development Foundation. Since "Now!" had collected over $11 million, the federal government committed $74.8 million, more than half of the $143 million commitment they needed by late 1969. Cleveland Now! was on its way and Stokes was riding high.3*6

385 Cleveland Plain Dealer, 21 M ay 68, 10 May 68, 11 May 68. 3*6 Memo: Greater Cleveland Growth Association, re: "Employees Campaign," Container 1, Folder 5, Cleveland Now! Papers; Call and Post, 19 May 68; Cleveland P ress, 15 May 68; Cleveland Plain Dealer, 16 May 68.

237 Along with the contributions Stokes was specifically pleased that his administration would be able to provide $750,000 for the Mayor’s Summer Youth Program, which gave low-income youth job and recreation opportunities. This was a critical accomplishment because prior to Cleveland Now! the Summer Youth Program had a hard-time securing private-sector job assignments, and the jobs provided by anti-poverty dollars had strict eligibility requirements, leaving many working-class youth out of work. The main concern for the Youth opportunity staff was that thousands of youth who lived just slightly above the poverty threshold were going to be out of work, possibly leading to idleness and violence during the upcoming Summer. But with Now! money. City Hall undertook a massive summer youth project.^ The money raised by Cleveland Now! served two purposes. First, it was designed to redevelop a city that had been in shambles, and second, but equally important, it allowed Stokes to distribute much of the money as he saw fit. Since it was not tax money City Council had little say in how the money was distributed. Although the Greater Cleveland Growth Association would collect and handle the money, Stokes was literally in charge of all disbursements. With Cleveland Now! off to an unprecedented start Stokes began a campaign to raise the city income tax, just as councilmembers had predicted. The Little Hoover Commission Study ordered by Stokes, suggested raising the tax from .05 to .08% by April 1st. But as April Fools' day came and went Stokes sought to raise it a full 1.0%. In pushing for the increase Stokes emphasized that a large amount of the money would go towards much needed raises for city employees, most noticeably police and fire personnel, while some funds would also go for upgrades in the service department. The anti-Stokes

3 8 7 Cleveland Plain Dealer, 14 May 68; Seymour Slain, Coordinator of Mayor’s Youth Council to Carl B. Stokes, re: "Summer Programs," 29 April 68, Container 39, Folder 723, CBS Papers.

238 council bloc, led by Stanton, was initially hostile to the increase. At a hearing on the issue Stanton asked how the Hoover Commission could predict a tax increase when new buildings were being built, which would in turn generate more tax revenue. To counter the legitimate concerns of the Stanton clique, Stokes placed a fuU-page ad in local papers asking voters to pressure their councilmen into voting for the increase. To make it easier for their constituents to voice their views Stokes listed councilmembers home phone numbers as well. Stanton, obviously upset, felt that Stokes was trying to "blackjack," and "intimidate" city council into passing the measure. "I will not be intimidated," said Garofoli, Stanton's chief underling, "if they're looking for open warfare I'm ready." Stanton remarked, "I'm not impressed by the newspaper campaign, to stampede this council without proper documentation." Stokes didn't deny that he was placing pressure on council: "In our enthusiasm to get Cleveland on the move we have applied pressure everywhere...pressure of the administration and on City Council. We have urged City Council to move as quickly as possible on the income-tax measure because there is an urgent and immediate n e e d . 8 8

Stokes' efforts toward an income tax boost were aided when city sanitation workers staged a four-day walkout leaving 116,000 homes without garbage pickup, causing a back up of 1,000 tons per day in garbage. The workers were protesting wages, and they wanted to bring it to the attention of Stokes and Stanton. Many of Stokes' critics suggested that Stokes was behind the strike with hopes of getting his stalled tax proposal up for a vote in. Although it appears that Stokes did not engineer the strike, the strike did motivate voters and city workers to pressure council for a vote.^89

3 8 8 Cleveland Plain Dealer, 28 February 68, 27 February 68, 4 May 68, 16 May 68; Cleveland Press, 14 May 68; 3 8 9 Call and Post, 1 June 68.

239 As Cleveland City Council met on May 27th, scores of municipal employees picketed City Hall and other workers packed council chambers to hear debates on the tax proposal. However, Stanton adjourned the meeting before there was any mention of the legislation. It was later learned that the anti-Stokes bloc had pigeon-holed the legislation inside the joint finance/legislative committee. Not only was it stuck in committee, but Stanton attempted to compromise on the measure by calling for its adoption effective October 1st, as opposed to Stokes' date of July 1st. This date switch would have made the additional funds only available for use after January 1,1969, effectively delaying raises and other improvements for a full year. As Stanton was stalling, the public began to apply pressure. The tax issue was brought to a vote on June 11th and it passed easily with only three dissenting votes, all from the white West Side. The estimated additional fifteen million dollars generated from the tax would largely go to city employees. For instance, police and fire personnel would get raises between $l,000-$2,000 annually. After the measure passed, Stokes stated simply, "I'm veryg r a t i f i e d .

Stokes' ability to defeat Stanton on the tax increase enabled him to gain support from the city's municipal employees, especially the Fraternal Order of Police, which was still somewhat upset at the reorganization. By framing his tax measure in terms of salary increases for the city's working-classes he won additional support from the white community. The restoration of federal funding, the peaceful aftermath of King's assassination, the early fundraising success of Cleveland Now!, and his tax increase victory won him many supporters on both sides of the Cuyahoga. Throughout late May and June 1968 Stokes was perhaps the most popular urban politician in the country. But the brief honeymoon period would come to an abrupt end with the actions of Fred "Ahmed" Evans and the Republic of New Libya on July 23, 1968.

390 Call and Post, 8 June 68; Cleveland Press, 11 June 68.

240 VII Stokes received unanimous support from local black nationalist organizations for his drive to redevelop the city. Even prior to his election Stokes had built up quite a rapport with the nationalists, even at times using them as peace patrols to quell black unrest, and upon taking office Stokes made it clear that the nationalist community would have a voice in city affairs. This relationship between Stokes and the nationalists was cemented in the Summer of 1967 when Stokes, W.O. Walker, and Ralph Besse, Chairman of the local electric company, paid several nationalists groups a total of $40,000 to "keep it cool for Carl." Since the nationalist community helped control unrest, Stokes was eager to maintain the relationship. Stokes' desire to maintain friendly relations with local nationalist figures did not sit well with the CPD, who often made a practice out of harassing organizations such as the Republic of New Libya, and this constant harassment and bmtality towards the Republic would ultimately result in tragedy, ruining the political career of Stokes in the process. Fred "Ahmed" Evans came to Cleveland in 1955 from Greenville, South Carolina, after serving in the Korean war, and by the mid-1960s he became widely known because of his claims that racial warfare in America was inevitable. After making such statements Evans' activities were closely monitored by the CPD, to which Evans did not take likely. In March of 1967 Evans served a thirty-day jail term after being found guilty of aggravated assault in the beating of a policeman in front of his astrology shop at 11105 Superior Avenue. According to Evans, on the night of Wednesday March 15th, black patrolmen William Payne stopped in Evans' shop and Evans addressed him as "brother," to which Payne objected. While inside the store Payne apparently became upset at Evans' nationalistic astrology charts which predicted the gruesome fate of the white race. Minutes later, Payne called for backup and five white officers came to the store and quickly diffused ±e situation. After the white officers left Payne sat across the street in his patrol car shining a

241 bright light through Ahmed's center, which was also doubling as his residence. When one of Ahmed’s followers asked him to turn off the light, Payne picked up a hammer with the intent of busting out the center's large plate glass window. Ahmed then wrestled Payne to the ground and was arrested by other officers who happened to be on regular patrol. The official police version is somewhat different. Officer Payne testified in court that he stopped three youths seated in a stolen automobile just blocks from the shop and when he questioned the youths about the car they told him that it belonged to Evans. When he took the youths to Ahmed's center, an angry and drunken Ahmed confronted him outside the store. After calling for backup Evans then attacked him for no apparent reason. Both of these versions appear to contain aspects of truth. Which story is the more accurate, is unknown. Days after his conviction Ahmed's store was closed by the police because of unsanitary conditions. Violations cited included improper heating, poor ventilation, and general "squalor" making the store "unfit for human habitation." The conviction and eviction of Ahmed represented the beginning of a strained relationship between Ahmed and the Cleveland Police Department.^^^ Although Ahmed was in prison, he still managed to make headlines by predicting that May 9th was the day of a collision between the races, which was to coincide with a solar eclipse. "When the eclipse comes that day it'll be the end of an era," said Ahmed. Although May 9th came and went with the prediction going unfulfilled, Evans was still quite popular throughout the city. While the local civil rights establishment attempted to neutralize Evans by dismissing him at times as a madman, notable civil rights leader Martin Luther King, Jr., realized Ahmed's importance to the community and whenever he came into Cleveland he and Ahmed met. At one particular meeting arranged by local ministers.

3 9 1 "The Facts behind the Arrest of Ahmed," Dialogue in Black, William O. Walker Papers, Howard University, Moorland-Spingarn Research Center, Washington, D C.; Cleveland Press, 21 April 67; Cleveland Plain Dealer 22 April 67.

242 King took them to task for not inviting Ahmed. King told them that violent nationalists like

Evans made it possible for whites to accept his own non-violentphilosophy.392

Throughout the remainder of 1967 and early 1968 Ahmed remained calm but two events in the Spring of 1968 caused Ahmed to become disillusioned with the American system. The first event was the assassination of King. King's death troubled Ahmed because it showed the pure hatred of whites toward blacks, in spite of King's message of love and nonviolence. Philosophical differences aside, Ahmed grew to respect MLK because of his courage and convictions, and when Ahmed learned of King’s death he was greatly troubled. The second incident came in late May when Evans was evicted from his recently secured astrology shop because of his failure to pay the rent. Without advance notice court officers moved all of his belongings to the sidewalk, padlocking the door as they left. What angered Evans about this scenario was that the black community offered little support. These two incidents sent Ahmed over the edge.^^s In early July, Ahmed once again became a target of the CPD's subversive unit. In the first week of July the CPD received word that Evans and his followers had taken over an apartment building and were in the process of stockpiling arms in preparation for a confrontation with whites. After the building owner notified police about the takeover. Sergeant Bosie Mack and Detective Michael Taylor made several efforts to gain entry into the apartments, but were unsuccessful. Instead of forcing entry. Mack and Taylor arranged for a housing and building inspection. However, Evans and his followers did not allow the inspectors to gain entry either. Not only were they denied entry, they were also told that if they returned they would be killed. In Mack's words, "these inspectors were really shook-up." After the unsuccessful inspection Mack asked Captain James Sperber about possible helicopter surveillance to which he responded, "when this administration took

392 Interview with Stanley Tolliver; Cleveland Plain Dealer, 11 March 67. 393 T olliver interview; Call and Post, 1 June 68.

243 over they abolished the helicopter unit...we have no way of obtaining photos from the air." Mack then suggested that the Sergeant over traffic surveillance could survey the area during his routine traffic patrol. Sperber then told him that the helicopter unit belonged to a radio station and ±at he could not tell them what to do; instead he told Mack to talk to citizens in the area and set up an observation post. Mack then told Sperber, "that is out of the question...Evans' followers are all over the place, we do not know who is who yet." Mack then made a third request, that additional men be assigned to the investigation. Sperber denied the request by stating that Stokes had transferred all additional officers out of his unit. For the next two weeks Mack and Taylor worked twelve to sixteen hour shifts watching the Aubumdale area. Then on July 21, they started hearing the expression, "the pot is going to boil," meaning a violent confrontation with police. The rest of July 21st they attempted to find out more about this "confrontation." Meanwhile the landlord of the apartment building started eviction proceedings. Court officials then notified Evans that he had to vacate the property immediately. Sensing that an eviction was imminent, Evans had secured another residence on Hough Avenue weeks before that he was in the process of rehabilitating. But after weeks of work in the building, the owner changed her mind and told Evans that he could not rent the facility. The landlady's rebuff combined with the eviction notice on Aubumdale angered Evans, who was increasingly moving toward a showdown with police.^^^

On the 22nd, according to an undercover informant who had penetrated the Republic, Evans traveled to Detroit and Pittsburgh to pick up guns, which were to be used in a multi-city riot. The Cleveland Police Department received word that the riots were planned for the 24th and detectives scheduled a meeting at City Hall the next day. Making

Interview with Seargant Bosie Mack, Container 7, Folder 103, CBS Papers; McManamon Interview; New York Times, 29 July 68; Cleveland Press, 30 July 68 ; Cleveland Plain Dealer 30 July 68.

244 the crisis even more tense was that Stokes was out of town and not due back in the city until the night of the 23rd, leaving Clarence James, newly-appointed Safety Director to serve as acting mayor. On the morning of the 23rd Mack and Taylor informed Sperber that trouble was expected the next day and after meeting with Sergeant Ungvary of the Subversive unit, they approached Chief Blackwell about the situation. Blackwell told them to take it to City Hall, to which Mack replied, " 1 agree that City Hall should be informed as to the situation, but it seems to me that this is a police matter and as chief you should handle it." However Blackwell insisted on going to City Hall first. A meeting was then held in the mayor's office at 1:45 PM with James, McManamon, Councilman George Forbes, Inspector Coffey, Sperber, Ungvary, Taylor, Mack, and Walter Beach, director of the mayor's youth programs. In discussing ways to handle Ahmed the meeting produced three plans of action. First, Sperber, as head of the intelligence unit, was to keep in constant contact with intelligence units in other cities. Second, task force head Coffey was to set up a roving patrol through Aubumdale and if Evans was to leave they were to follow him. A roving as opposed to stationary surveillance was important for several reasons. First, Aubumdale and Lakeview was a heavily traveled street with whites constantly driving through. Second, the lily-white task force would be exposed immediately. And third, Ahmed often stationed guards outside his home to watch for police, at times sending men on patrols to hunt for police on nearby streets. The last action agreed upon was that Forbes and Beach would go to Aubumdale with hopes of calming Ahmed. The meeting ended between 6:00 and 6:30 PM.^’^

395 Mack Interview; McManamon Interview; Interview with Clarence L. James, Container 84, Folder 1655, CBS Papers; Interview with Michael Blackwell, Container 84, Folder 1654, CBS Papers; Press Conference on "Glenville Disturbances," Container 84, Folder 1663, CBS Papers; "Chronological Report of Events: Glenville Area Disturbance," Container 84, Folder 1666, CBS Papers; Shoot-Out in Cleveland: Black Militants and the Police, July 23, 1968, A Staff Report to the National Commission on the Causes and Prevention of Violence, eds., Louis H. Masotti and Jerome R. Corsi, May 1969.

245 But trouble was forecast soon after the meeting adjourned. When Coffey was giving instructions to the task force, he neglected to tell his men that the surveillance was supposed to be roving; instead he told a Lieutenant Schemp to establish a detail on the building at Aubumdale and keep it under surveillance. Mack heard these orders and repeatedly told Coffey that it was to be a moving detail. Coffey replied, "he (Schemp) is a good man, he will know what to do." Mack then went to Sperber and asked him to make sure the task force knew that they were supposed to keep moving. "Coffey is an Inspector. He knows what he is doing. Who am I to tell him what to do," Sperber declared. Mack continually tried to do something about the task force's instructions, even volunteering to make the surveillance himself, but, all of his suggestions were declined.396

After leaving the meeting Forbes and Beach went looking for Harllel Jones, leader of the Afro-Set, in hopes that he would accompany them to visit Ahmed. However, Jones was not around so one of his officers left with Forbes and Beach. As they approached Aubumdale they saw two cars "full of white people," members of the CPD task force. The roving task force had not been set up, instead they were stationary. As Forbes, Beach, and the Afro-Set member approached, Ahmed summoned them to the backyard and he poured out his apprehension about the police surveillance. Ahmed also discussed his displeasure with the eviction proceedings. Forbes, who was an attorney by training, told Evans that he would try to secure an extension on his eviction date and that he would help him find another building for his astrology shop. Shortly before they departed Aubumdale, Evans told them that he was calm, "tell the big brother downtown (Stokes) that everything will be alright." Forbes and Beach left Ahmed's at 8:05 PM with the impression that there would be no trouble. Forbes was so content that things were cool that shortly after calling Stokes, who had Just retumed to Cleveland, he sat down and ate dinner.^^?

396 Mack Interview . 397 "Chronological Report"; Mack Interview; McManamon Interview; "Shoot-

246 After leaving Ahmed's, Forbes and Beach phoned McManamon about getting the stationary surveillance removed. McManamon told them to call Stokes and while they were talking with the Mayor, McManamon broke in on the conversation, informing Stokes that trouble had begun on Aubumdale and Lakeview. At 8:10 on July 23rd Evans and his followers came out of the house carrying arms and wearing bandoleers, literally terrifying the task force. "They are coming out, they have automatic rifles, thirty of them," shouted a task force member over the police dispatch. The first man out of the house fired a shot towards the surveillance car but missed. As the police retreated two of Evans' men followed closely for several blocks, firing shots. Several other of Ahmed's followers walked toward the second surveillance car shooting as well, but the police luckily escaped. Shortly thereafter a white tow truck operator, who had gotten an earher call to pick up an abandoned Cadillac on Beulah Ave., which lay adjacent to Aubumdale, came under fire as well. (He was probably misidentified as a pohcemen since the city tow tmck operators wore uniforms resembling that of police officers.) Minutes later police came back to the area returning fire. The gun battle was under w a y . ^ 9 8

As the first officers at the scene were being fired upon, they yelled, "get somebody, get a tank down here...get tear gas, get more rifles." As policeman mshed to the scene heavy gunfire was exchanged and by 8:35 five policeman were injured, two mortally. Patrolman Willard Wolfe was killed in the intersection of Aubumdale and Lakeview, just seconds after his patrol car had exploded due to sniper fire and Patrolman Louis Golonka was killed as he searched for snipers. Minutes after Golonka's death, two of Evans' men, Sydney Taylor (Malik Ali Bey) 23, and Bemard Donald (Nondu Bey) 25, were killed by police. Just a short time after the deaths of Taylor and Donald, another policeman, Lt.

Out in Cleveland"; Interview with George Forbes, in Blacktown, U.S.A., b y Frank Keegan, (Boston: Little, Brown, and Company), 1971, pp. 396-414; Interview with Ahmed Evans, in Blacktown, pp. 317-332. 398 "Shoot-Out," p. 48; Mack Interview.

247 Leroy Jones, was killed as he arrived at the scene. Ironically Jones was killed just as he was taking aim to shoot. By all accounts the shooting was heavy, as both sides, especially Ahmed and his followers, were shooting to kill. Sgt. Sam Levy who was one of the first officers on the scene recalled the tense moments. "We dodged through the yards and crawled along the back of the Lakeview Tavern where I saw shells on the ground. I saw some empty ammunition clips in the driveway behind the bar and as I started up the driveway...I was hit...they kept shooting and I was hit again. They shot at anybody who moved." Mrs. Bertice Fleming who lived at 1395 Lakeview had an up close view of the encounter as police and Republic members exchanged gunfire in her apartment complex. "They started shooting and I was afraid to look out. I looked out and there was an army of police there. I begged the police to stop shooting but they wouldn't listen. I barred the door because I didn't want anybody to get in and then I just got back down on the ground." By 9:30 the shooting had stopped, but another one of Evans' followers was killed, as well as an innocent bystander, bringing the total dead to seven, including three white police officers. In addition, countless policeman and Republic members received gunshot wounds and related injuries.3^9

Once the shooting ceased, the police began to search for suspects, including Ahmed. Ahmed was captured around 12:24 AM. When the officers arrived at 1384 Lakeview, where Ahmed had gone during the shootings, he emerged from the house shirtless, wearing only slacks and sandals. As they were placing him in the car he asked: "how are my people?" When he was told that at least three of them had been killed, he replied, "They died for a worthy cause." When the officers asked Ahmed about his weapon, he pointed to the bushes in front of the house. Along with ± e gun was a toga, a

399 McManamon Interview; "Shoot-Out," p. 51-53; "Chronological Report"; "Casualty List for July 23, 1968," Container 84, Folder 1663; Cleveland Press, 2 A ugust 68.

248 loaded carbine, five boxes of ammunition, and a first-aid kit. Ahmed then offered an explanation: "If my carbine hadn't jammed I would've killed you three. I had you in my sights when my rifle jammed." Upon arriving at police headquarters one of the officers asked him the reason for the shootings, to which he stated simply, "you police have bothered us too long." After capturing Evans, the police then vowed to get even for the deaths of their three comrades. While looking for "snipers" the CPD went on the offensive and began terrorizing innocent citizens. However, unlike previous attacks by the police on black residents, this episode would be unparalleled because they were seeking revenge for their dead brothers.^°® IX As the shooting ended several patrons were trapped inside the basement of the popular Lakeview Tavern, which sat at the comer of Aubumdale and Lakeview. When the shooting empted they fled to the basement, notifying the police that they were unarmed. However, the CPD would take their frustrations out on these irmocent residents. Louise Brown, 21, was one of several women trapped inside, and when police officers discovered they were in the basement she was sexually molested. "...I got my clothes ripped all off me, and the policeman ripped my clothes off me, he felt me all in between my privacy, in between my legs.." Jean Grisby suffered a similar fate as two white officers felt up her skirt as they "searched" her. Like Brown and Grisby, Peggy Finley also was sexually molested as well. While being held outside at gunpoint, Finley's clothes were ripped off and when a nearby reporter went to offer assistance, he was told to get out of the area or risk being shot. While the officers at the scene were sexually molesting the females, another fate fell on the males who were trapped inside the tavem. John Pegues was shot in the thigh at point-blank range as policemen fired shots and tear gas into the basement. He

^00 "Shoot-Out," p. 56-59.

249 was later kicked and beaten. Then, Pegues was denied medical attention for approximately four to six hours, as they took him straight to jail rather than to the hospital. Arthur Radan was also severely beaten. Radan testified that when the police came to the basement of the tavem he was whipped with the butt of a shotgun. When he informed the officers that he was unarmed one officer yelled, "we're going to kill this black muthafucka." Trenton Irwin was also whipped with a shotgun butt, as officers landed blows to his forehead and Donald Brown was knocked unconscious by officers, but not before they cracked several of his ribs.'^O' Several of the officers looted the Lakeview Tavern's liquor supply once the shooting ended. Alfred Reed, who was standing on his porch after the shootout saw the police loot the liquor and drink it on the sidewalk. "I could see the police come out with some boxes...and putting them in the police car," he explained, "and then I could see them coming out individually, with bottles in their hands, drinking from them..." Arthur Redan and Leola Williams also recalled the police drinking. For Williams the looting was particularly insulting because she was the owner of the tavem, and when she retumed to the bar later that night she found $200.00 in cash missing, as well as ten cases of beer and thirty-six bottles of w h i s k e y

Police misconduct was not Just confined to the comer of Aubumdale and Lakeview. It was occurring all throughout the Glenville area. As Andrew Wright and his wife were

Sworn Testimony of Louise Brown, in "A Showing of Probable Cause: Documentary Evidence Tending to show Criminal Activity by Cleveland Police During the Glenville Incident, July 23, 1968, in support of the Charge that Responsible Local Officials have Failed to Investigate Where Probable Cause Exists," issued by the ACLU of Greater Cleveland, Container 9, Folder 41, CBS Papers; Testimony of Jean Grisby, ACLU Report; Testimony of Finley, ACLU Report; Testimony of John Pegues, ACLU Report; Testimony of Arthur Radan, ACLU Report; Testimony of Trenton Irwin, ACLU Report; Testiomny of Donald Brown, ACLU Report. Testimony of Alfred Reed, ACLU Report; Testimony of Leola Williams, ACLU R e p o r t.

250 heading home around 9:00 they got stuck in a traffic jam at East 123rd and Superior. There, a policemen on duty told them to go through Lakewiew instead of Superior. As soon as Wright turned on Lakeview his car was greeted with gunfire, but miraculously he made it through the area safely. Albert Forrest almost lost his life to police bullets as well as he tried to offer first aid assistance to a civilian who had been wounded. Forrest first went to assist a victim who was laying on a Beulah Avenue treelawn seriously bleeding. As he was addressing his wounds, a policeman hollered, "get away from him," soon followed by warning shots, forcing him to retreat. Hours later, Forrest once again went to offer assistance by removing a dead body laying in the path of a burning building. As he and others attempted to remove the corpse, they were attacked by police. "One of them jammed a shotgun in my ribs and told me he was going to blow my guts out, and the police behind him came across his shoulder with his rifle butt and jabbed me in my face and knocked me down; then a number of them stomped and beat me and kicked me," Forrest declared. Sandra Parks suffered a similar fate as she attempted to recusitate a gunshot victim. As she was checking the victim's pulse officers pulled a gun on her, then they proceeded to kick and stomp the dead body. Along with harassing innocent citizens, the CPD also took out their frustrations on black property. The home of Rev. Perryman was firebombed by police under the guise that there were snipers inside his home. Even after the blaze had been set fire officials failed to answer the call. The reverend lost everything. Perhaps the most troubling incident of police brutality surrounded the death of James Chapman, who was last seen on the night of the outbreak walking his family home. As they approached Lakeview and Aubumdale, Chapman was told that it was not safe to walk through the area. He then instructed his wife to take the children back to a friend's house, while a policeman offered to escort him through the area. Chapman never made it. He was later found dead at the comer of Lakeview and Aubumdale, shot in the head at close range. The police and local media reported that he was killed by a sniper as he was assisting a

251 wounded officer, but community leaders knew otherwise when an independent pathologist found powder bum residue on his face indicating that he was killed at point blank range. This evidence negated any possibility that he was killed by a sniper.'*^^

Just as officers terrorized innocent persons, the black poor also wanted revenge for their dead brothers, and for years of police mistreatment. Soon after the shooting began, large numbers of black youths gathered on Superior Avenue, just blocks away . As white motorists passed by they were pelted with rocks, bottles, and molotov cocktails. By 9:30 the crowd of mainly black youths grew larger, and they attacked police officials. Twenty- one year old Patrolman Herbert Reed was pulled from his patrol car and beaten severely. A police cruiser on Superior went up in flames as it was hit with a molotov cocktail. Lastly, two brand-new police cars containing valuable equipment were set ablaze and destroyed.^')'* As the night continued black youth decided to take their frustration out on white property. Looting in the area began early in the evening and by 11:00, as the shooting ended, looting and rioting increased. Crowds of looters and arsonists carried their activities east along Superior and west toward Rockefeller Park. Stores all along E. 105 were looted and burned, and the violence even spread to St. Clair, more than a mile north of Superior. There were also incidents in the Hough area and as far west as East 55th St. The looting continued past midnight, and there were even incidents being carried out until 6:45 AM. By the morning of the 24th, the casualty and arrest list was heavy. There were seven dead, 3 policemen, 3 suspects, and 1 civilian; fifteen wounded or injured, including eleven officers; and at least forty persons arrested, largely for looting, plus thousands of dollars in property damage. As the first night came to an end, all eyes were now on Stokes

Andrew Wright Interview, ACLU Report; Albert Forrest Testimony, ACLU Report; Sandra Parks Testimony, ACLU Report; Rev. Perryman Testimony, ACLU Report; Call and Post, 3 August 68. “04 "Shoot-Out," p. 61.

252 who had convinced voters that if he was elected these types of incidents would not happen.^®5

When the shootings first broke out Stokes and his top officials debated how to handle the situation. But in making plans, they were unsure of what action to take because of the complexity of the situation. Early in the meeting Stokes bluntly admitted that he didn't know what to do. He asked Blackwell, "What do I do?" Blackwell responded, "to tell you the truth, I don't know." Stokes then shot back, "Chief, We've got to stop this thing, police and citizens are being shot out there." Shortly thereafter, Stokes issued an appeal for peace over the radio and TV, and after conferring with McManamon, Blackwell, and other staff members, Stokes called Governor Rhodes requesting the National Guard. Major General Del Corso arrived at City Hall around 11:00 PM and he and Stokes began conferring about what action to take. Around 12:30 AM they decided to deploy National Guard troops to the area. At 3:00 AM two hundred guardsmen were sent to Lakeview to patrol the streets. With their arrival instructions were given to the police that any sniper activity was to be reported to the National Guard. As the night turned into morning. Mayor Stokes asked all community leaders to meet him at 8:30 AM at City Hall.'*®^ X Over one-hundred leaders of the black community gathered at City Hall to discuss the situation. Stokes was well aware of the police actions the night before, and he was also cognizant that looting, burning, and rioting, had taken place as well. Thus, he put the matter before the community, "what do we do?" The attendance at this meeting was limited to blacks only, not even white cabinet members were allowed to take part. Throughout the

“^05 "Shoot-Out," p. 61-62; "Looting Reports," Memo from the Cleveland Police Department, Container 82, Folder 1582, CBS Papers; "Arrest Record List," Memo from the Cleveland Police Department, " Container 84, Folder 1663, CBS Papers. 406 Mack Interview; McManamon Interview; "Shoot-Out, " p. 65-68; William Silverman Interview, Container 83, Folder 1636, CBS Papers. "Chronological R eport."

253 meeting a number of options were presented, including imposing a curfew, strengthening police and national guard units, or using various combinations of law enforcement personnel. Others suggested an all-black peace patrol to quell the disturbances. The general consensus was that a strong police presence would lead to further shooting. Many feared that nationalists would interpret a strong police presence as a threat and proceed shooting, while others felt that if the police were allowed to remain in the area they would seek revenge. The meeting ended at 10:00 AM without any consensus. However, about twenty "militants" continued holding discussions about what course of action to take. Early that afternoon they suggested that Stokes pull out the police and let community leaders patrol the area. Stokes was still non-committal. This proposal was presented to him earlier in the day by McManamon and CRB director, Bertram Gardner. Later that afternoon Stokes discussed the proposal with members of his cabinet, who endorsed the idea over the objections of General Del Corso. At 4:15 PM Stokes released his plan for Wednesday night, which called for the troubled area to be cordoned off by the National Guard, with police officers stationed along the perimeter. No white police officers would be allowed to enter the area, only black law enforcement officers and community leaders. "The program is primarily in the black community and the black community will handle it," said Stokes to reporters after he announced the plan. The group that would patrol the area was labeled the "Mayor’s Committee," and they were given bright red armbands so they could be easily identified by white law officers.'*^^ The Mayor's Committee was headquartered at the PRIDE office, a self-help organization operated by Baxter Hill. The 500 peace patrol personnel were divided into four teams: one each headed by Harllel Jones and William Denton of the United Youth

"Shoot-Out," p. 67-69; McManamon Interview; Silverman Interview; Walter Beach Interview, ACLU Report; Walter Burks Interview, Container 83, Folder 1636, CBS Papers; Call and Post, 3 August 68; Cleveland Plain Dealer, 25 July 68; Cleveland Press, 24 July 68.

254 Council, and two from PRIDE, led by Benjamin Lloyd and Ronald Turner. For communication purposes, Stokes gave the Committee access to city cars that were equipped with a police radio, so that the patrol could respond immediately. Throughout the night patrol members toured the area, usually stopping to talk to groups of youths gathered on the streets. On some occasions members of the patrol would stand in front of looted stores to prevent further damage. However, they could not contain the many sporadic acts of looting. By and large the peace patrol was effective, as a result of the efforts of the more militant leaders such as Harllel Jones, who exploited his popularity with the black working- class in asking youths not to loot. In spite of the inability of the Committee to prevent looting, they were extremely effective in preventing further bloodshed. Three fires were reported, thirty-six stores looted, and thirteen arrests were made. However, there were no deaths. Nonetheless, Stokes' enemies did not consider the black patrol a success, largely because of wholesale property damage. It seemed as if they preferred to see further bloodshed as opposed to replaceable property damage.^®* The black community applauded Stokes' daring actions, but the CPD and large segments of the white community despised the move. When Stokes announced that the cordoned area was off-limits to white officers, police personnel reacted angrily. On the police dispatch that night several white officers made clear their dislike of Stokes' decision. When a call came in that a heart-attack victim needed assistance the response from one officer was "white or nigger? Send the Mayor's Committee." A fire call was met with the response "tell Stokes to go piss on it," while answers to other calls over the police radio included: "Fuck that Nigger Mayor." White officers were also upset when McManamon told them that they could not carry their rifles while patrolling the perimeter of the cordoned area. Because of their outrage at Stokes' instructions, white police were visible throughout

4 0 8 McManamon Interview; "Shoot-Out," p. 72-73; "Statement by Carl B. Stokes," News Conference, 25 July 68, Container 84, Folder 1666, CBS Papers.

255 the cordoned area although they were given specific instructions to stay along the perimeter. Whenever they appeared in the area, the Mayor's Committee was notified and they quickly went to the scene to ask them to retreat.'*^^ In spite of the attitudes expressed by white officers the all-black peacekeeping effort was a success. However, many of Stokes' critics thought otherwise, including Glenville area Councilman Leo Jackson: "If you want to say what happened last night—no shootings, no snipers—was a success then it was, but if you consider the looting, the destruction, the breaking of windows, the wholesale gutting of buildings, last night's activities, it was a total failure. People of the area were scarred stiff...and I am upset." Stokes strongly disagreed: "Police records show no instances of looting, black leadership did a splendid job, the people stayed home. There have been no shootings of any kind, no deaths. Our greatest concern was for the safety of individuals." Jackson was not alone in criticizing the unchecked looting from the previous night. Area merchants were also upset at the rioting. Several area stores were totally wiped out, including a furniture store and two dry cleaner establishments. Because of these criticisms, Stokes realized that although his intent was to protect life, he could not allow looting to continue for another night. Members of the Mayor's Committee took some of the blame as critics began to suggest that members of the patrol could not prevent looting. However, in their defense, the patrol only numbered around five-hundred, and of that number several hundred did not actively participate, particularly members of the more moderate black leadership class. Members of the Committee argued that if they received full participation, then the looting could have been controlled. Largely as a result of these criticisms, Stokes dismissed the Mayor's Committee, announced a curfew, and sent the National Guard back into the riot-torn area. He was confident that the tensions had cooled and that the Guard would enforce the law.

409 "Shoot-Out, ' p. 73-74; Call and Post, 10 August 68, 31 August 68; C leveland Plain Dealer, 25 July 68, 28 July 68; Cleveland Press, 25 July 68, 26 July 68.

256 However, Stokes and his advisors were still cautious about sending in the CPD, knowing that the pull-out decision made them even angrier. Nonetheless they sent the CPD back in, albeit under different conditions. Stokes and McManamon suggested two-man patrols, one black, one white, but white officers protested this proposal by going on strike for two to three hours. The white police were demanding that there be four to a car, all-white, and that they be issued high-powered rifles. A compromise was reached calling for three officers to a car, two white, one black. Thursday and Friday were relatively calm as the National Guard presence cut down on looting and rioting.'* By Saturday morning things were quiet in Glenville. After conferring with Del Corso and his cabinet, Stokes lifted the curfew and pulled out the National Guard. When the CPD retumed to normal patrol on Saturday night they were still fuming over Stokes' management of the crisis, and they were eager to get revenge for their three slain brothers. But this time media personnel would feel the iron fist of the CPD. Late Saturday nigh an incident broke out at the Haddam Hotel on Euclid Ave., just one block from the Fifth District Police Headquarters. When Charles Ray and Julius Boros, reporters from NBC, went to cover the incident they noticed a large throng of partygoers had left their respective bars and taverns to witness the altercation. As the bars emptied out near the Haddam Hotel, the CPD emptied out from the 5th District. When the officers arrived they immediately began assaulting innocent bystanders without provocation. Ray arrived at the scene before Boros and proceeded to film the disturbance. Two officers grabbed his camera, his wallet, his press credentials, and his glasses. As he protested, they slammed him against a wall. He was soon knocked to the ground and stomped by six or seven uniformed officers, leaving noticeable bruises along with several fractured ribs. Instead of taking Ray to the hospital, he was taken to jail and forced to sign a disorderly conduct

"Shoot-Out," p. 76-77; McManamon Interview; "Glenville Disturbances"; Walter Beach Interview;

257 waiver, which immunized police against any charges of police brutality. When Boros arrived on the scene he received a beating with bully clubs and shotgun butts, nearly leaving him unconscious. But he received more punishment once he was taken inside the 5th District where he was continually beaten and tortured. When he was taken to the hospital later that night he had one broken rib, three fractured ribs, numerous cuts and abrasions, and severe kidney damage. Nontheless, Boros was later charged with assault and battery.'^* • XI As the city retumed to normal, Stokes' popular Cleveland Now! underwent a public relations nightmare when it was revealed that Ahmed Evans had received a $ 10,000 grant from Now! funds, presumably to open up an "African Cultural Shop." The purpose of the center was to "broaden the youth's knowledge of his heritage," by studying black history, Swahili, philosophy, numerology, astrology, and art. Membership of the shop was only to consist of black nationalists, "or individuals that embrace that philosophy." What made this project unique in Evans' words was that "the poor are to guide and control the operation and policies " of the shop. In submitting his original proposal, Evans' requested a total grant of $25,000, with the bulk of this going for salaries. For instance, Evans as director was to receive $5,000, while other New Libya members such as Lathan Donald and Jessie Harmon, both high school dropouts, were to receive $1200 a piece as an "instructor." In spite of the request Stokes only approved $10,000 as part of a $30,000 Project Afro grant, of which $10,000 went to Harllel Jones and the Afro-Set, while the balance went to yet another nationalist organization. The money was fimneled through the Hough Area Development Corporation and then distributed to Evans. The majority of the funds went to purchase weapons that were eventually used in the gun battle. Because

Testimony of Charles Ray, ACLU Report; Testimony of Julius Boros, ACLU Report; "Shoot-Out," p. 78-79.

258 Stokes had built up a relationship with the nationalists, many critics called the Now! grant to Evans bribery and slush money. Also, Stokes' tendency to use the militant factions of the community in times of unrest gave credence to these arguments. Local media figures began to suggest that Stokes was trying to "buy" peace in the ghetto by passing out money. Although many acknowledged that buying peace was not a new phenomenon, all agreed that the disclosure that even he used the money to buy guns was difficult to swallow. Stokes and DeForrest Brown, head of the Hough Area Development Corporation, defended the grant. Stokes "regretted" the misuse of funds but he stood firm in his decision to allocate the money. Dean Ostrum, Cleveland Now! board member and Vice- President of Ohio Bell, stood by Stokes' decision as well: "his program to reach 600 young people in ghetto areas (Project Afro), we endorsed the original proposal and we still have confidence in Brown and the HADC." Stokes was now facing the political fight of his life. Three policemen had been killed, he had pulled out white law enforcement, and he had given Ahmed a Now! grant, which was used to purchase weapons.^ As things slowly returned to normal over the following week, Stokes battled for his political life. Although he did not condone the actions of Ahmed, many whites were holding him responsible for the deaths of three officers. West side resident Joseph Kosempa asked Stokes to "admit" that the group responsible for the shooting was his "own black, Afro-American race." Then he informed Stokes that he was holding him personally responsible for the tragedy because Stokes "used this same group to help him gain sympathy as well as tremendous financial terms for the entire Negro race." Kosepma felt that Stokes maintained close ties to the black poor to win millions for his programs. Martha Symms of Cleveland Heights felt that trouble could have been avoided if Stokes

"Proposal for an African Culture Shop," Container 84, Folder 1665, CBS Papers; Cleveland Press, 25 July 68, 26 July 68; Cleveland Plain Dealer, 28 July 68 , 27 July 68, 10 August 68.

259 had not discontinued helicopter surveillance or reorganized the department She labeled these decisions "irresponsible." A writer calling himself a "Goldwater Republican" was "shocked" by Stokes' refusal to protect white property. He wanted to know how could a "criminal" mayor order white national guardsmen out of a city overrun by "insane black rampaging mobs?" In closing, he promised "bloody retribution" against Stokes. Equally angry was another anonymous writer who wanted to know why Stokes couldn't keep things cool: "You should've been able to deal with these people, " read the letter. Mrs. Loreen Howard of the west side suburb of Parma was particularly angry, but she was just glad that none of her tax dollars were being "used or applied" by the Stokes administration.'* * 3 Although West side whites were angry at Stokes' decision, there was nevertheless considerable support for the pull-out across the city. Among those in support of Stokes' decision to preserve life over property were Robert Morse, President of Case Western Reserve University, Rev. Donald Jacobs, Greater Cleveland Council of Churches, Robert Ginn, President of the Cleveland Welfare Federation, the local NAACP, Catholic Interracial Council, Cleveland Urban League, and the Jewish Community Federation. To illustrate their support for Stokes, CORE, CUL, NAACP, SCLC, Afro-Set, PRIDE, and the Hough Community Council placed a full page ad in the Plain Dealer commending the Mayor for his decision making. The ad also criticized persons who attacked the decision, arguing that the same individuals who praised him in keeping the peace after King's death were now criticizing that same action. Stokes also received support from individual citizens as well. Max Wahl, local chair of the ACLU praised Stokes' actions, labeling them

Joseph Kosempa to Carl Stokes, 24 July 68, Container 83, Folder 1635, CBS Papers; Martha Symms to Carl Stokes, 25 July 68, Container 83, Folder 1635, CBS Papers; Charles Coleman to Carl Stokes, 27 July 68, Container 83, Folder 1636, CBS Papers; Anonymous to Carl Stokes, 25 July 68, Container 83, Folder 1636, CBS Papers; Loreen Howard to Carl Stokes, 31 July 68, Container 83, Folder 1636, CBS P a p e r s.

260 "imaginative," and "innovative." Equally praiseworthy was Thomas Hauscher of Cleveland State University who asked Stokes to "ignore" his bigoted critics and "handle any future disturbances in the same way." William Castille, Vice President of the Spanish American Committee for a Better Community, congratulated Stokes on his "wise handling" of the situation. He was particularly pleased that the Hispanic families in Glenville "firmly agreed" with the pull-out decision. In a survey taken a week after the riots, 59% of the citizens polled believed that Stokes made the right decision to pull out white law enforcement. 47% of whites were in favor of it, compared to 82% of blacks. Similar results were found when respondents were asked if Cleveland Now! was a "good thing." Overall, 63% said yes, 51% of whites and 85% of blacks.'^' The public's attitude differed greatly from the attitudes of the FOP toward the tragedy. Weeks after the shootings, the FOP began to express their displeasure with Stokes. In early August the FOP called for the resignations of both Stokes and McManamon for their handling of the incident at the largest meeting in chapter history. The biggest gripe against the mayor and the safety director was that officers were not warned that Ahmed and his followers were armed, and that helicopters were not used although one was made available by the National Guard. In airing their grievances the FOP believed that community sentiment was on their side: "At least 95% of the people in Glenville wanted police in the area...only the militant black nationalists and the hoodlums didn’t want them," stated one officer. Along with Stokes and McManamon's resignations, the FOP also demanded that sniper control equipment be delivered immediately. There was also much dissatisfaction with Blackwell. Many officers believed that he was "letting the mayor and safety director push him around. " The call for his resignation was only tabled because of

Thomas Hauscher to Stokes, 31 July 68, Container 83, Folder 1636, CBS Papers; William Castillo to Stokes, Container 84, Folder 1644, CBS Papers; Cleveland Press, 31 July 68; Cleveland Plain Dealer, 29 July 68, 2 August 68.

261 his age, sixty-seven, and because of his lifelong membership in the FOP. Stokes rejected the pleas of the FOP, while taking full responsibility for decision making during the crisis: "all decisions concerning last week's disturbance were made by me after evaluating information from the National Guard, the CPD, and representatives from the community itself. " Days after Stokes' refusal to resign or dismiss McManamon, posters appeared on precinct bulletin boards labeling Stokes and McManamon "Police Killers: Wanted for the Murder of Three Policeman. ^ When this symbolic attempt to oust Stokes and McManamon failed, some attempted to get Governor James Rhodes to remove them for neglect of duty. Leading this campaign was Sgt. Louis Bors of the CPD who filed a ten-page affidavit in Rhode's office seeking to oust Stokes, McManamon, and James. Rhodes did not act on it. While the FOP and Sgt. Bors were working actively to get Stokes and his staff removed, a grass-roots recall effort was being led by the Citizens for Law Enforcement Committee (CLEC), more widely known as the United Citizens Council (UCC). Chairing the Committee was Robert Anable, President of the UCC and noted white supremacist. The basis of the recall drive was Stokes failure "to act properly in the Glenville area." In addition to the recall effort the CLEC also demanded that all Cleveland Now! funds be given to the widows of the three slain officers.'* XII The Glenville shootout effectively ended the honeymoon of the nations' first black mayor. Since he had taken office in November he had made a number of moves towards getting the city back on track. In his first seven months in office he reorganized the CPD, restored federal funding, passed a tax increase to raise salaries, kept the peace after King's death, and launched Cleveland Now!. He also had solidified the support of the business

'*15 Cleveland Press, 2 August 68; 416 Cleveland Press, 5 August 68, 8 August 68.

262 community, the press, and nationalists. However, the crazed actions of Ahmed Evans caused many to forget about Stokes’ accomplishments, placing the whole Glenville incident on his shoulders. But Stokes' nightmare was partly of his own doing. Since the Summer of 1967 Stokes had constantly emphasized that if he was elected he would keep Cleveland cool. Although he was successful after King's murder in April, his attempts to placate the frustrated masses did not succeed with Ahmed. Although other militants were content to let Stokes reform the city's discriminatory urban institutions, Ahmed was not one of them, and as a result Stokes was in essence being attacked for not fulfilling his promise.

263 CHAPTER 6

THE DUAL NEXUS OF RACE AND POUTICS

In the year following the Glenville riot Stokes became embroiled in several political battles and controversies. He imdertook a fight for scattered-site public housing against the wishes of the black middle-class, and he was also involved in a police testing scandal and a fight for black ownership of inner-city McDonald's franchises. Stokes' political opponents would use these episodes to further hinder his legislative agenda. I In the aftermath of the shootout many citizens began to question the "Now!" program as a result of the revelation that Ahmed received $6500 out of the allotted $10,000 grant. But although Stokes' political image was hurt, he stood by his decision to give Ahmed the money: "What is the alternative to such a grant? Do you leave a man like Evans free to float in the community, to justify his resentments and nourish hatreds? Do you leave him in isolation, or do you try by any and all means at your disposal to reach him? It seems to me that you have no alternative but to embrace the socially dispossessed person, especially when he is a leader. " Many members of the business community were in direct agreement with Stokes, especially those affiliated with Now! However, a sizable minority of the business elite openly questioned the Evans grant. For example, J.E. Wilhelm, President of Avery Engineering and one-time supporter of Now! did not object to the involvement of militants in city government, but he did oppose "giving them money."

264 Wilhelm wanted to know how and why Evans was given a grant for educational programs, when he had little or no experience in teaching? Wilhelm also attacked the disbursement procedure of Now! funds. He wanted Now! to implement a set of controls, checks, and balances, to assure an accurate accounting of funds. Most residents echoed these sentiments.'* Members of the black poor and working-class had little criticism of the "Now!" grant to Evans. Because thousands of black youth had spent a fruitful summer in one of the many sponsored programs funded by Cleveland Now! money. While the media focused its attention on Now!'s relationship to Ahmed, thousands of poor youth participated in hundreds of Now!-sponsored programs. For instance, a Now! grant of $25,000 was given to the Afro-American Youth Cooperative which provided employment and on-the-job training for youth ages fifteen to eighteen, and $20,000 was given to Baxter Hill and PRIDE for employment and training of poor youth. On the educational front $16,500 was awarded to the Junior Scholar program at Case Westem Reserve University which was designed to prepare inner-city high school graduates and services for college. The program also provided some youths with financial aid for college. The Pace inter­ district summer school was allotted $25,000 to enroll kids in suburban summer schools who needed to take classes not offered in Cleveland Public Schools. Also, the Black Economic Union Project was awarded $7,000 to help inner-city youth prepare for leadership positions. Another grant of $25,000 went to Cleveland Youth Now! Inc., a broad-based educational and cultural program designed to address the problems found in the inner-city. In addition to its sponsorship of educational, cultural, and employment programs, Cleveland Now! also financed the start of six day care centers across the city as

Article in Presbyterian Life Magazine, date and author unknown, in Container 90, Folder 1778, CBS Papers,p. 14-16, 36; J. E. Wilhelm to George Grabner, Now! Chairman, 2 August 97, Container 1, Folder 9, Cleveland Now! Papers; "Survey," Container 84, Folder 1664, CBS Papers.

265 part of a broader commitment to establishing a series of multi-service health and welfare centers. The day care facilities were especially appreciated by low-income teen-age mothers such as Charlotte Thomas who placed her children in the Mt. Pleasant Community Day Care Center: " I probably would have to stop working if the center wasn't here...since I would have a hard time finding a good baby-sitter...plus it would be hard for Terrell (her son) to get the training he does here." In all $780,000 were given to summer programs for 1968, making Now! a success in the eyes of the city's black poor.'*** II In spite of the success of Now!, many of Stokes' enemies used Glenville as a sounding board to attack Stokes' other programs. A sign of things to come was evident at the first city council meeting held after a three month recess. The Stanton bloc took Stokes to task for everything from the Glenville incident, low poUce morale, urban renewal, and Cleveland Now!. Leading the attack was Ward 21 Councilman Edward Katalinas, a Stanton underling. "I believe the East side of Cleveland is in a state of anarchy," said Katalinas, "my ward is literally being taken apart by hoodlums, thugs, and murderers." Although these comments did not specifically refer to Stokes' attempts to establish a relationship with the dispossessed, it was imphed. "We have young hoodlums walking the streets in broad daylight carrying flags, carrying spears, carrying knives, carrying swords, some even carrying guns," stated Katalinas. Others joined in the criticisms, including Ward 26 Councilman Lawrence Duggan, Ward 9 Councilman Anthony Garofoli, and Ralph Perk, Jr. of the 15th Ward. Using the rhetoric of Law and Order, these councilmen were implying that Cleveland was becoming a haven for criminals because of Stokes' attitude toward law enforcement. Katalinas and others continued their attacks at the next

"*** "Cleveland Development Foundation-Cleveland Now! Funded Program Expenditures," 30 June 69, Container 2, Folder 28, Cleveland Now! Papers; Cleveland Press, 27 November 69; "Mayor's Council on Youth Opportunities, 1970 Funded Programs, " Container 1, Folder 4, Cleveland Now! Papers.

266 council meeting, only to be confronted by several groups of nationalists who packed city council chambers. As Katalinas went into his long monologue, observers in the chambers began to heckle, boo, and laugh, while waving the black nationalist flag. Stanton tried unsuccessfully to quiet the crowd, which did so only after being asked by Clarence James, Law Director. The earlier actions of Ahmed and the nationalists who showed up at council meetings cost Stokes support among the white moderates in city council, who were increasingly being won over to the Stanton bloc. Sensing that the council wars were underway Stokes decided to take his message directly to the people in the form of town hall meetings and televised speeches.'^ Stokes held his first post-Glenville town hall meeting in the white working-class community of Collinwood, which bordered Glenville on the north. He was initially greeted with heckles and boos, but he managed to quiet the crowd by answering questions truthfully and direct. For example, when one man asked why the CPD was not equipped to handle Glenville, Stokes responded that he was forced to plead "guilty," although he was making up for "twenty years of neglect," as far as police equipment was concerned. When another gentleman requested that Stokes purchase tanks and bazookas for the CPD, Stokes answered: "I am not going to permit the City of Cleveland to be turned into an armed camp. Anytime we descend to the point when tanks and policemen with bazookas are required to keep the peace, then we have lost any semblance of democracy." Another concerned citizen asked why he marched with armed nationalists on the anniversary of the Hough riots, he responded simply, "I do lots of things that I don't want to do. I do them because 1 am the mayor." By the end of the evening Stokes had carefully managed to quiet many of his critics, such that he was signing autographs and shaking hands for thirty m inutes.'*2o On the heels of the town hall meeting Stokes launched a monthly TV

Cleveland Press, 10 September 68, 18 September 68. ^20 Cleveland Press, 20 September 68.

267 program designed to win community-wide support for his programs. His first televised speech dealt with law and order, or more specifically, his relationship with the CPD. Stokes opened by stating that the Glenville tragedy was led by a group of "sick, misguided men," who had given up on democracy. He stressed that he hoped that the citizens of Cleveland would not let Ahmed’s vendetta "poison" the city. He acknowledged that Glenville marked the end of the period when all citizens had pledged to work for Cleveland Now! An unfortunate incident that turned "police against citizen, citizen against citizen, government official against government official, and black against white." In discussing his own responsibility to maintain public safety Stokes emphasized that although he inherited a department that lacked discipline, was understaffed, and poorly trained and equipped, he had recently began a police training program for all patrolmen and that he was in the process of replacing much of the outdated equipment. In closing, Stokes asked all Clevelanders "to erase the misunderstanding, to support the police, and to uphold the laws." With the town hall meeting and the aired speech Stokes hoped to recapture the enthusiasm felt by so many during his first eight and a half months in office. However, these orchestrated attempts did not recapture all of his support. Meanwhile, the local press was being won over to the anti-Stokes forces as well.'^^i

In late September, the Plain Dealer began a series of front-page articles entitled, "The Cleveland Police: What's on Their Mind," which signaled the beginning of the newspaper's attacks on Stokes. The first article contained a plethora of quotations from police critical of Stokes, McManamon, and Blackwell. For instance, when asked about the leadership qualities of the Big Three, one officer responded: "Mayor Stokes can't lead. Maybe he doesn't know how...McManamon won't lead. He can't. He wasn't even a good policeman. Chief Blackwell won't lead. He can, but City Hall won't let him. He's

Cleveland Press, 26 September 68; Cleveland Plain Dealer, 27 September 68.

268 nothing but a puppet." The first article also cited claims that the mayor was "protecting" black nationalists and that he wanted to get them in uniform. One officer remarked, "He wants to get them into ± e police department...then these blacks will have an 'in' in the department." The second article in the series, which was supposed to look at the subject of police equipment, opened with the quote: "We're like a British outpost in Africa." One officer wanted to know "what good are .38s against automatic rifles?" Another questioned the lack of riot-control gear: "we're not prepared for another one of these (Glenville)...when you have to go up against automatic fire with shotguns and handguns not only is the public going to be in danger, but you're going to have alot of dead policemen. " The third installment of the series discussed racial attitudes within the CPD. "This business about putting a white and Negro policeman in the same car won't work. You got to have a close relationship between partners. If you're not buddies, forget it," read the headline on the front-page. The article went on to relate how the majority of blacks were in favor of "good" law enforcement, but how the militants were strongly influencing the policy of public safety. One veteran of the force characterized police-community relations on the black East side: "...the responsible citizens of the ghetto proved they are for law and order and that they are not responsible at all to the radical groups in their midst." Another patrolman was much more direct: "In my book Negroes are not the biggest problem in any way. They are the dissidents." The last two articles dealt with new recruitment procedures to place more blacks on the force and police dissatisfaction with the court system. But the underlying tenor of all of the articles was that Stokes was protecting police-killers and police enemies while preventing the CPD from doing its job. Although the editors at the Plain Dealer had promised that the expose would separate fact from fiction, the series was entirely based upon opinion, rumor, innuendo, and speculation. More importantly, however, none of Stokes' supporters within the CPD were included in the story. The series was basically an attack against Stokes and his policies, as the CPD

269 was given a golden opportunity to air its displeasure with Stokes across the firont pages of the state's most popular paper. In response to the articles, the local chapters of CORE and the NAACP announced a boycott against the paper. But these articles would be just the first of many in the local press that attempted to destroy the political career of Carl B. Stokes.'*22

Two weeks after the expose appeared, Stokes and McManamon made the decision to replace Chief of Police Michael Blackwell, largely because he had lost control of the department In an attempt to close the breach between City Hall and the FOP they decided that the new chief should come from within the department. Days later, twenty-eight year veteran Patrick Gerity took over as chief of the CPD. Gerity was basically McManamon's selection because he was particularly impressed ±at Gerity was not a part of the "ruling clique," he was a loner, a straightforward cop. In giving Blackwell the position, Stokes told him to carry out his duties "anyway you want—but do it." Shortly after Gerity's appointment the new chief gave an exclusive interview with the Call and Post outlining his plans to improve the relationship between the black community and the CPD. When asked what he would do to stop police brutality, Gerity explained, "if a policeman violates departmental regulations, he can certainly expect to be punished." He was also queried as to how his CPD would deal with nationalist organizations which were growing in popularity throughout the city. "As long as any organization operates according to law they will be treated like everyone else. We're trying to open lines of communication with them, to reduce tension," he declared. Black residents enthusiastically welcomed Gerity as chief, but the FOP appeared very indifferent to his appointment. Perhaps they

For the series "The Cleveland Police: What’s on Their Mind," see the Cleveland Press 30 September 68 through 4 October 68; "Shoot-Out," p. 86-87.

270 realized that as long as Stokes was mayor they would not have a chief sympathetic to their attitude of law enforcement.'^^s

In conjunction with the Gerity appointment, Stokes answered some of his critics by announcing some changes in poHce policy, albeit symbolic ones. At a city council meeting days after Gerity's appointment, Stokes and councilmembers agreed on new policies. They both agreed to take steps to end racism in the department, to support police in enforcing all laws, to discipline rogue policemen, and to work toward a more realistic goal of integrating the department. Moreover, they also agreed to stop "coddling" lawless elements throughout the city. While agreeing to these resolutions Stokes rejected nationalist calls for a civilian review board and for an all black police force in black communities. These symbolic gestures by Stokes were overt attempts to recapture some of his support he had lost within the CPD.'*24

In spite of Stokes' troubles in Cleveland he was still quite popular throughout the country. Ironically, the pull-out decision he exercised in Glenville was applauded and even duplicated in other cities. Thus, the tactic that would cause Stokes the most heartache in his own city was seen as the correct action by outsiders. Between August and December Stokes capitalized on this popularity by delivering twelve public addresses, including the nominating speech for Hubert H. Humphrey at the 1968 Democratic National Convention and the keynote address the annual meeting of the American Federation of Teachers.^^s III As Stokes' first year in office came to a close he emphasized his administration's accomplishments in aiding the poor and disenfranchised. In a brief report made available to

423 Call and Post, 12 October 68, 26 October 68; Cleveland Plain Dealer, 9 October 68 ; Stokes, "Promises," p. 179. 424 Cleveland Press, 12 October 68. 425 pred Viehe, "Carl B. Stokes: The First Black Mayor o f a Major City," unpublished paper presented at the Duquesne Forum, 26 October 89.

27 1 the media Stokes stressed the renewal of federal funding, the successes of "Cleveland Now!," which had built 3100 new housing units and provided thousands of summer youth opportunities and 5900jobs for the hard-core unemployed. While Stokes pointed out these accomplishments he realized that the momentum of "Cleveland Now!" had been killed on July 23rd. In his eyes however, Cleveland Now! was still the best way to revitalize the city, and in the first few days into his second year in office Stokes undertook a battle for scattered-site public housing.'^26

As a result of the city's inept urban renewal program that ultimately left thousands displaced during the 1950s and early-to-mid 60s, Stokes inherited a severe housing crisis upon entering office. Largely due to suburban exclusion and the lack of new home construction in the inner-city, many of the black poor and working-class were stuck in Central and Hough in overcrowded, slum conditions. To alleviate some of the tensions Stokes proposed scatter-site public housing units for low-income residents in middle-class areas. Stokes' inaugural project was a 274 suburban-type housing subdivision in the black middle-class community of Lee-Seville, located on the city's southeast side. The Cuyahoga Metropolitan Housing Authority (CMHA), with City Council's approval, acquired the property in 1966 with the intent of providing housing for persons displaced under Locher's urban renewal fiasco. By the Summer of 1967 plans were underway to build a 600 unit rowhouse-type facility, consisting of two-story townhomes, eight units to a building. To accommodate the population increase, the school board and the respective city authorities had agreed to build a school, park, playground, and a shopping center and later that fall architectural and engineering firms were retained. By every indication it appeared that the project was moving along with rapid speed. When Stokes entered City

^26 Cleveland Press, 14 November 68; Cleveland Plain Dealer, 16 November 68, 17 Novem ber 68; Call and Post, 16 November 68; New York Times, 27 November 68 .

272 Hall he continued Locher’s plan to develop Lee-Seville, but he drafted another proposal. Instead of a high-density complex proposed by Locher, Stokes promised to build 274 new single family homes, with an option for residents to purchase at a 1% interest rate as soon as their income allowed. The homes were to sit on huge lots, back from the street, in a variety of colors and designs. In essence, the homes were to be comparable to that of the $20,000 homes in the Lee-Seville area, and low-income families would pay rents between $40-$80 a month.‘*27

Although the facility was to be built on CMHA land, the housing authority still needed the approval of city council to make the necessary street improvements. Plans for the facility were moving along until two black councilmen, Clarence Thompson (ward 30), and George White (ward 13), began voicing their objections to the proposed development. Thompson and White, both members of the black middle-class elite, opposed the project largely because they felt that their community would deteriorate as a result of a large influx of low-income blacks. But instead of stating this, they claimed they opposed the project on the grounds that city services would not be adequate to handle the population. At an emotional city council meeting White argued, "we don't have adequate schools now; we don't have adequate recreation now; we don't have adequate police protection now." In voicing his objection White also employed a certain class bias by suggesting that low- income black Clevelanders were relying on public housing to bring them out of the ghetto: "We learned that it takes a lot of struggle for the fine things in life. You don't get it by thinking that the Federal government is going to make everything right." White also attacked Stokes for making the black middle-class the subject of his experiment. "I want you to go to Shaker Heights and plead for housing there," he said. Taken aback by

^27 "Cleveland's New Look in Public Housing," Brochure on Lee-Seville Housing, Container 88, Folder 1735, CBS Papers; "Housing in Lee-Seville: Facts You Should Know," Container 88, Folder 1735, CBS Papers; "The Lee-Seville Story," Container 88, Folder 1734, CBS Papers; New York Times, 5 September 68.

273 White's opposition, Stokes placed the importance of decent low-income housing in his hands by arguing that the development would provide decent, quality housing for the people who needed it most. He also told them that their delay in passing the legislation was virtually signaling the "dea±-knell" for decent public housing. Mayor Stokes was passionate about Lee-Seville because he recognized that there was "no more serious crisis today than the poverty-stricken, the ill-fed, the-ill clothed, the ill-educated, and the ill- housed." After the initial opposition Stokes accurately placed the controversy in class terms. He was sending a message to the public that there were two black councilmen who were unconcerned about the welfare of their less fortunate brethren.'*^* In response to White's and Thompson's concerns about overcrowding and city services, Stokes proposed several improvements that would alleviate these concerns. Stokes promised new access roads, with requisite lights and new sewers; additional police patrols and a mini-fire station; new playgrounds, including a swimming pool and basketball courts; and stricter code enforcement and housing rehabilitation. Thompson considered the administration's commitments mere "promises. " Instead of having all of these improvements contingent upon the housing development he wanted the city to give them something for their tax dollars "now," notla te r." * ^9

Although White and Thompson claimed to be speaking for their constituents, there was considerable support inside their respective wards for the housing complex. At an emotionally charged meeting called by area citizens in favor of Lee-Seville, White and

"*28 Cleveland Press, 16 July 68; Cleveland Plain Dealer, 19 July 68; "Chronology of Events Concerning Lee-Seville," Container 32, Folder 578, CBS Papers. "*29 Sdyney Spector, Administrative Assistant to the Mayor to Director Ralph Tyler, Utilities Dept., Container 88, Folder 1734, CBS Papers; Spector to McManamon, Safety Director, Container 88, Folder 1734, CBS Papers; Spector to Edward Baugh, Director of Public Properties, Container 88, Folder 1734, CBS Papers; Spector to Richard Green, Community Development Director, Container 88, Folder 1734, CBS Papers; Linwood Smith, Administrative Assistant, Community Dev., to Carl B. Stokes, 30 September 68, Container 88, Folder 1734, CBS Papers.

274 Thompson were presented with five-hundred signed petitions which clearly illustrated the area's support for the project. But White and Thompson attempted to negate the validity of the signatures by arguing that Lee-Seville residents did not sign it, but rather it was filled with signatures of suburbanites. When White expressed his opinion about the signatures. Rev. Claude Cummings, chair of the meeting asked him to set down. Instead, White stormed outside of the building. In attendance was CMHA director Irving Kriegsfeld who answered White’s criticisms by promising that city services would not go neglected, and that property values would not decline, an unmentioned concern of White and Thompson. Kriegsfeld also remarked that the petitions were proof that the local citizenry were in favor of the project.‘*30

To draw support for Lee-Seville and other scattered-site projects, Stokes attempted to appoint CMHA director Irving Kriegsfeld to the city planning commission. As former director of PATH, a non-profit housing group that dealt with housing discrimination, Kriegsfeld was successful in battling housing discrimination, particularly in lily-white suburban areas. Prior to appointing him as head of CMHA, Stokes had to secure the resignation of Ernest J. Bohn who served as CMHA director for over forty years, to the detriment of the city's black community. Bohn supervised the city's urban renewal program, and was equally responsible for the non-enforcement of housing codes in black areas in the mid-1960s. Stokes sought Kriegsfeld's assistance largely because of his work with PATH but also because he was a strong supporter of placing public housing units outside of the city's traditional slum areas. At a special council meeting in mid-September Stokes presented Kriegsfeld for approval by city council. Chaos soon erupted in council chambers, as White, Thompson, and the Stanton bloc rejected Kriegsfeld's nomination. Kriegsfeld attackers argued that because he was head of CMHA he could not legally sit on

^30 Call and Post, 13 July 68.

275 the City Planning Commission. However, this excuse was just a "smokescreen" for the real issue, their opposition to scattered-site public housing because Bohn had served as CMHA director and chair of the planning commission for an entire decade. In rejecting the nomination Thompson stated, "My stand is for the taxpayer in my ward. The taxpayer must be represented. There are many others who could be put on the planning board." Thompson's actions clearly hurt Stokes' plans because he was attempting to coordinate the various city planning units. Stokes felt that the council denial of Kriegsfeld was a "blow"

for city planning and for low-incomeresidents.^^ i

IV Stokes took the controversy to new heights in mid-October when he publicly labeled those that objected to the project "black-bigots." He explained: "If you permit bigoted black middle-class persons with a bigoted black public official representing them to stop the utilization of unused land in Lee-Seville for housing...you will have failed to support everything we want to do with housing in this city and you will have struck a blow against expanding opportunities for all persons to live anywhere in the city and in the greater community." Stokes also accused the foes of Lee-Seville of adopting tactics that white suburbanites used to exclude blacks Aom their communities. At the following city council session, Thompson responded that he was "deplored" at Stokes' comments. "To be called a black bigot I don't like, I am not a bigot, this is sickening," he declared. Thompson went on to stress that although he was concerned about the black poor, he and his family had "worked hard" for everything they attained, subtly implying that public housing was a handout and that low-income units would literally destroy his community. "We are concerned about the poor in our city. How many of us have been poor? many have come from farms. I never lived in metro housing. My dad was a farmer. We have

and Post, 21 September 68.

276 struggled hard for what we have attained." Unfortunately, Thompson's views toward public housing were voiced by many of his constituents. "I had to work 14 hours a day and seven days a week to earn the down payment on my house, why should I say 'Come on Charlie you can have it all for free,'" remarked Fred Butler. George White chimed in as well, "It takes a lot of struggle to get the good things in life, you don't get them by having someone else give them to you." While Thompson, Butler, and White, saw public housing as a handout, others feared the decline of property values. "I don't want them up there because of my home. You put life savings in a home and I think it would depreciate my property. I rented to some of their type...and I know how destructive they were," said a homeowner who wished to remain anonymous. Another opponent of the issue equated lack of home ownership with lower-class values: "...if they can't afford to build homes of their own like ordinary people, how are they going to keep up those they propose to build for them." Sherie Guilford feared that the newcomers wouldn't paint their homes, mow their lawns, or place trash in garbage cans. As Stokes supporters continued to label the opponents of the project class-based bigots, they denied that this was the case. Rather, stated one homeowner it was just an issue of "homeowners vs.r e n t a l s . 2

In spite of the considerable opposition to Lee-Seville from area homeowners, Stokes did receive support from residents who looked beyond the rhetoric of overcrowding and property values, and instead saw a need to help the black poor. When asked why he favored the development one resident responded, "because, everyone needs a decent place to live." Another answered that there was a "need for more housing for low-income families." Harry Powell, area grocer, stated that he favored the project because "we've been kicked around so much we can't afford to kick anyone else. " Members of the black

^32 "Quotes on Lee-Seville Housing Proposal," Container 84, Folder 1735, CBS P a p e rs.

277 poor such as Baxter Hill, were adamant about constructing the much-needed housing: "we are going to build these houses, even if we have to tear down Lee-Seville to do it."'♦33 As Stokes, White, and Thompson continued to debate the issue, the foes of the development held the upperhand because the councilmen were effectively holding up the legislation in committee that was needed for CMHA to proceed with construction. Because of Thompson's and White's opposition they received unanimous support from the Stanton bloc, and thus a formidable coalition emerged to confine public housing to Central and Hough, the oldest and poorest areas of the city. As the controversy remained stalled in committee, Stokes received considerable community support particularly from the United Pastor's Association, Community Fighters for Large Families, and various community councils such as the Central Area Council, Northeast Neighborhood Council, Lee-Harvard Area Council, and the Glenville Area Council. Throughout December and January these community-based organizations often packed council chambers calling for city council to bring the improvement legislation out of committee. The most active of the groups supporting Stokes was the Community Fighters who distributed literature attacking White and Thompson for feeling "that people in low-income homes should not be provided decent housing in neighborhoods where middle-income people live." In late January 1969, Stokes' efforts in Lee-Seville received a big push when the City Planning Commission approved his plans for street and sewer improvements in the planned community. The Planning Commission's stamp of approval was critical because it guaranteed to Lee-Seville homeowners that the city was planning to make the requisite improvements to accommodate the subdivision. Now the issue was clearly in the hands of city council to pass the necessary legislation. Although CMHA had the permission to build the development, it could not begin construction until the legislation was passed.'*^^

'♦33 Ibid., New York Times, 5 Septem ber 68. ^34 Call and Post, 2 November 68, 11 January 69; Cleveland Press, 27 January 69;

278 In spite of the Planning Commission's approval Thompson still had enough votes in City Council to keep the legislation held up in committee. Thompson still had the support of the Stanton bloc because of council courtesy and old-fashioned classism. In a sense, Thompson was single-handily holding up meaningful legislation. While Stokes and Thompson were squaring off in Council sessions and in the press, factions developed inside the 30th ward over the proposed development. Strongly favoring the project was the Lee-Seville Development Corporation (LSDC), under the direction of Kenneth Johnson and John Barnes. Throughout the controversy they had been in close contact with Stokes, advising him on strategy, and informing him of the mindset of the community. The LSDC also mounted a massive public relations campaign in late Winter 1968 to publicize the real story behind the proposed housing complex. However, much of their efforts feU on deaf ears because Thompson and Stanton were mounting a vicious rumor campaign about the housing to the residents of Ward 30. The person largely responsible for sensationalizing the Lee-Seville issue was Jack Oliver, the historic black accommodationist, and Jean Murrell Capers. The only thing Oliver and Capers had in common was that they both despised Stokes. Oliver never gave Stokes any support and Capers became adamant against Stokes after the 1965 campaign, so they both wanted to thwart all of Stokes' programs. It was well known that Oliver, at Stanton's instruction, was a frequent visitor to the Lee-Seville area and many recalled that he alarmed residents by misrepresenting the type of housing to be constructed and the type of people that would occupy them. Capers, likewise, became an active foe of the development as she became the lead counsel for the Lee-Seville Homeowners Improvement Association (LHSIA), a group of homeowners organized to fight the development and to "maintain and to perpetuate a high standard of community stability" in what they considered to be a "model

"Chronology of Events Concerning Lee-Seville."

279 residential community." The LSHIA was particularly concerned about residents having the right to exercise "Neighborhood D eterm inis."'*35

The LSHIA issued a three-page manifesto explaining why they opposed Stokes' housing proposal. The pamphlet began by arguing that public housing units never met the moral, spiritual, and inspirational needs of its tenants, "regardless" of the design. Rather, the development would merely be perpetuating an awful system. After presenting concerns relative to overcrowding, the manifesto declared that the LSHIA did not want the black poor "colonized," and "stereotyped" in a public housing ghetto, since, in its opinion, CMHA public housing units created all-black high-density areas. In closing, the LSHIA stated that they had to set their goals for the future instead of reliving the past: "Most of us are well aware of our origin but we do not want to go back to public housing days and those beautiful days on the farm, we could not do better in those days, now we can." The members of the LSHIA did not consider their position to be one of "black bigotism," rather, it was just a position they had to take to maintain a "first-class community." Lastly they argued that the development would lead to increased residential segregation, when they wanted their community developed along lines of racial, social, and economic "inclusion, " rather than "exclusion."" Surprisingly, the LSHIA felt that it would be a mistake to view their stance as being against the black poor, rather, they sincerely believed that their position would enhance the ""upward mobility" of the black poor by not succumbing to the pressures of public housing and increased segregation. The position taken by the LSHIA clearly reflected the black middle-class bias against the black poor. What makes their stance even more strange is that although many of them were raised in public-housing, they were not willing to give the present-day black poor a chance to

435 "Housing in Lee-Seville: Facts You Should Know"; "Statement of the Lee- Seville Homeowners Improvement Association," Container 32, Folder 579, CBS P a p e r s.

280 improve their living conditions. Though never explicitly stated, the LSHIA had two major concerns, the loss or property values and the loss of status. For these bourgeois residents, the thought of living in close proximity to the black poor was disheartening, since many of them had sought to escape the masses by moving to the 30th ward.'^^e

Because of Thompson's steadfast opposition, he was effective in convincing council members to keep the housing bill stalled in committee. He was also successful in preventing hearings on the issue. In response, the Mayor took the matter of Lee-Seville directly to the people with an hour-long television special. In the program Stokes criticized Thompson and the Stanton bloc for keeping the legislation in committee, and he made a public appeal for them to set aside their "individual concerns" and work together for the "common good of this city." Stokes also remarked that it would be politically expedient to drop the issue since it was really CMHA's fight anyway, "but I have made Lee-Seville my fight and I bring this controversy to you tonight because this city cannot afford to lose this battle." As the debate wore on throughout the early Spring of 1969, Stokes began using his riot-insurance rhetoric to win the support of the people. While speaking at Yale University, Stokes told the audience about the housing crisis, and stated: "If trouble comes in Cleveland this Summer it could weU be over City Council's failure to approve housing for the Lee-Seville area." He further declared that if riots did occur, then the entire city would be held responsible for failing to respond to the needs of the black poor. Stokes was adamant in getting the units built because he knew the long term effects if the homeowners in the Lee-Seville area blocked the housing package: "If we can't get council’s approval for the Lee-Seville project is there any reason why Bratenahl or Shaker Hts. should be more progressive? This is why the fight is so important, we can't go to the suburbs with such a plan if we can't demonstrate we can do the same thing in Cleveland."

436 Ibid.

281 Later Stokes pushed for Lee-Seville while speaking at a Martin Luther King program at Olivet Institutional Baptist Church. Halfway through his address Stokes remarked: "some of you are from Lee-Seville, I want to make it clear. Don't you people sit here and remember Martin Luther King, Lee-Seville is what Martin Luther King was all about- giving people a chance to live in dignity." Stokes' attempts to invoke sympathy for Lee- Seville may have had an effect on individual citizens, but it had little impact on Thompson and Councilman Albert Pottinger, George White's replacement, as they still refused to bring the legislation out ofcom m ittee.'*^?

To give residents an idea how the development would look, Stokes and Kriegsfeld decided to construct seven model homes on the site. The model construction would be able to use the existing streets, sidewalks, and utilities; it did not require council to pass any legislation. But shortly after Stokes armounced the plans, Jean Capers filed suit on behalf of the LSHIA, seeking a temporary restraining order to prevent the construction until a hearing was held on a federal suit filed by LSHIA to have the entire project harmed. Capers, argued in the affidavits that CMHA selected the Lee-Seville location since the community was 99% black, therefore the new development would maintain a long-standing policy of segregation. The LSHIA focused on segregation because throughout its history CMHA had intentionally segregated its tenants. However, the injunction was refused by Judge Ben C. Green on the basis that it was outside of his jurisdiction since there was already a similar request in Common Pleas C o u r t . ' ^ ^ s

V By mid-May Stokes was still unsuccessful in attaining a hearing for the legislation, and the councilmen who supported the Lee-Seville project began to voice their displeasure.

^37 Cleveland Press, 12 March 69, 3 April 69; Cleveland Plain Dealer, 5 April 69. 438 "Affadavits Filed by those on opposition to Lee-Seville Housing," Container 32, Folder 579, CBS Papers; Call and Post, 10 May 69.

282 Charlie Carr, the "Dean " of black councilmen declared that, "in my twenty-four years on City Council I have never known a piece of legislation introduced by the mayor that has not gotten a hearing." Council woman Carrie Cain agreed with Carr. "We have an obligation to hear both sides," she remarked. Councilmen Virgil Brown felt that city council was getting a "black eye," because the legislation was being smothered. Warren Gilliam, Councilmen from the 25th Ward emphatically told Stanton, "I would like to see Lee-Seville brought to the floor. " Along with the appeals of the black councilmen, area organizations such as CUL, UP A, Committee of the Concerned, and the Task Force to Save Public Housing all agitated for a hearing.'^^^ Since City Council was scheduled to recess on June 30th, Stokes and his supporters decided to step up the pressure on Thompson and Stanton. At a council meeting on June 2nd, members were greeted by pickets outside city hall demanding hearings, while other supporters of Lee-Seville development packed council chambers in a massive display

of civic support for the issue. In spite of impassioned pleas for hearings by black council members, Thompson, Pottiger, and the Stanton forces stood firm, with Pottiger suggesting that the issue not be resurrected until the November election. "On election day the people can and will express themselves. 1 believe it can be decided in the ballot box," shouted Pottiger. His theory was that the people would voice their feelings on the issue by reelecting or defeating him and Thompson.'*'^^

In response to Thompson's refusal to bring the legislation out of committee for hearings, Stokes held a "Citizens Rally for Lee-Seville Housing." Civic leaders addressed a crowd of several hundred about the need for the housing development. The rally was designed to be a pep rally for the evening’s council session, one of the last before the Summer recess. At the council meeting. Councilman James Bell took the kid gloves off

Call and Post, 24 May 69. ^‘*0 Cleveland Press, 3 June 69; Call and Post, 1 June 69.

283 and placed blame for the stalling on Stanton. "I saw thirteen pieces of legislation to make various improvements, lighting, sewers, sidewalks, streets, playground facilities, and a promise to build new schools and better recreational facilities. The legislation is not unreasonable. If the people of Lee-Seville don't want it we do in our neighborhood, " stated Bell, "we'll take it." He continued, "I am concerned and sorry that such an important service to the people of Cleveland has been dropped into a struggle for power." Bell closed his dramatic statement by telling council members that they should represent the "hopes" and "desires" of the people they serve and alleviate the "suffering" of the black poor. In a rare move, Katalinas agreed with Bell's request by arguing that the only solution was for the issue to be resolved in council, not bottled up in committee. In spite of these appeals, Thompson still refused to call for hearings. Stokes made a last ditch effort for Lee-Seville housing when he held a Town Hall meeting in the area. In attendance were approximately four hundred Stokes supporters, and a small minority of Thompson allies. As the pro-housing crowd argued for a hearing, a small handful of the project's opponents began attacking the proposal. In the process Stokes became visibly upset at the failure of the residents of Ward 30 to understand that the development would not cause the community to deteriorate. Things got especially heated when Henry Simon, foe of the development, openly questioned Stokes' commitment to provide the necessary city services. Stokes immediately made it a personal issue by bringing up Simon's criminal past, in essence stating, 'what right do you have to be against the black poor when you've lived a life of crime.' Unfortunately, the meeting was filled with similar attacks and responses, leaving little time for meaningful dialogue.^'* * At the last city council meeting prior to the sununer recess. City Council voted 20- 13 against bringing the fourteen pieces of Lee-Seville housing legislation out of committee.

Call and Post, 14 June 69; Cleveland Press, 13 June 69.

284 After the vote Stokes took the floor denouncing the decision, claiming that the democratic process had not been allowed to take place. In closing, Stokes made another plea to council: "Ladies and Gentleman of Council, from this point forward, the issue of public housing in Lee-Seville is entirely up to you. My responsibility as mayor has been fulfilled, and while I am open to suggestions on what more can be done, I must state candidly that I am at a lost to know what it could be." Stanton responded to Stokes' plea by stating that, "when two councilmen object as strongly as they did...risking their political lives, I must stand by them. I make no excuses, no apologies. " The last City Council session of the season recessed without a hearing on Lee-Seville.'^'^^ The inability of Stokes to build Lee-Seville housing was a major setback for the administration. Although much of the opposition was voiced by Thompson, Stanton and his clique were actually the major players behind the opposition. If Stanton would have called for hearings, and or came out openly in favor of the proposal, then many of the white councilmen would have probably followed his lead. The Stanton power play on the Lee-Seville development was indicative of the larger issue, mainly Stanton keeping his promise to block Stokes' initiatives. The opposition by white councilmen had begun after the Glenville riots and they had no intention of letting up. The failure of Lee-Seville housing was a serious blow to Stokes' urban renewal plans. While he easily could have constructed projects in the inner-city (which he was doing all throughout his first two years in office without interference), he wanted to try something different. He was hoping to demonstrate that public housing outside of the ghetto was a possible solution to the city's housing problems, and he chose for his experiment Cleveland's black middle-class community of Lee-Seville, an area that had supported him throughout his political career. However, the status-conscious black bourgeoisie surprised Stokes by effectively

‘^‘*2 Call and Post, 21 June 69.

285 mobilizing against the development, and moreover, by forming a coalition with foes of black progress. The fact that he was willing to jeopardize his political career over public housing illustrates that Stokes was still trying to use his position as mayor to elevate the needs of the black poor. VI As the year-long controversy over the Lee-Seville project came to a close, Stokes faced yet another crisis when two of his appointees to the Civil Service Commission (CSC) became the subject of a grand jury probe. Shortly after the Glenville Riots Stokes embarked on a plan to place additional blacks on the force. Black officers numbered around 4% to 5% of all patrolmen although the city had a black population around 30%. To increase representation of blacks on the force, Stokes first changed the makeup of the five-person Civil Service Commission by securing the resignations of three Locher appointees, and replacing them with Marvin Chemoff, Jay White, and Charles Butts. These appointments were critical because in Cleveland the Civil Service Commission is responsible for all city personnel testing. With the CSC reorganized, Stokes next faced the task of seeking out potential police recruits. Efforts at recruiting blacks under previous administrations had failed for several reasons, including, the negative state of police- community relations, the low priority of the project by CPD recruiters, biased testing procedures, the lack of black officers in upper-level positions, and the five-month long process from appointment to employment. To circumvent these obstacles Stokes approved a Cleveland Now! grant of $15,600 to help the local NAACP conduct a thorough recruitment program. The program was to help prepare potential apphcants for the October 19th, 1968, Patrolmen Civil Service Exam. Assisting the NAACP was SCLC, CORE, and the Small Business Development Center, which agreed to conduct classes for prospective

286 officers. In coordinating the program, NAACP Executive Secretary Bill Packard hired seven neighborhood recruiters to get the word out in the black community Weeks prior to the exam, the NAACP held four training classes, attracting approximately 150 students. In addition the recruiters had processed 347 pohce applications, so the word was out that blacks now had a better chance of joining the force. The classes, consisting of six components, covered test-taking techniques, mental preparation, and the role of the police in the community. After the sessions concluded, a meeting was held in the home of Commission President Jay White, to decide the precise nature of the exam. Butts and Chemoff were present, but the two other members of the Commission, Claybome George, a thirty-five year member of the CSC, and five-year veteran Thomas Ryan, were excluded. Along with White, Chemoff, and Butts, a group of psychologists attended, some of whom happened to be on the staff of the NAACP sponsored training school. On October 9th approximately 1200 applicants took the Patrolman's test, done in traditional pen-and-paper fashion. But unlike previous recmitment exams, the CSC added an interview phase for the 43% of those that passed the written portion. The interviewing of the finalists began on December 16th, and had to be completed on December 20th, because the promotional exam was to be administered on Saturday, December 21. Weeks prior to the promotional testing the Civil Service Commission announced new testing procedures. Unlike past exams that simply measured precise details about mles and regulations, the new exam was meant to test the police on their role in the community. To accomplish this level of understanding the CSC mandated that all applicants read a twenty-five book reading list on Police-Community relations. Some of the titles included:Dark Ghetto by Kermeth Clark; Ralph Ellison's

Call and Post, 17 September 68, 14 September 68; "Police Recruitment Program," Conatiner 3, Folder 45, CBS Papers; Cleveland Plain Dealer, 6 October 68 .

287 Invisible Man\ Charles Silberman's Crisis in Black and White; The Police Raie in Racial Conflict by Juby Towier, and the Kemer Commissions Report. When officers learned of the new procedures they were outraged. In particular they did not like Stokes or the Commission's interference with the test taking. One officer remarked, "Our men are virtually in a state of shock due to City Hall intervention wi± the civil service examinations." This officer was especially upset at the interview portion of the test: "We understand there will be oral interviews given too, we are going to stop this by law." In sum, this officer felt that the exams would not be on the "up and up." After complaints firom the Fraternal Order of Police, the CSC postponed the test twice, first until December 14th, then until December 21st. When the test was finally administered. Police Chief Pat Gerity nullified the results, charging that proper security measures were not maintained. A second test given on January 23, 1969 was also invalidated by visiting Judge Thomas Mitchell after the FOP filed suit in Common Pleas Court on the grounds that the questions posed were not related to the positions sought.^'^'* In mid-March Judge Mitchell ordered the Grand Jury to look into possible cheating violations concerning the January 23rd promotional exam, largely on the testimony of a white officer who stated that advanced copies of the test were available. In investigating the January 23rd exam, the Grand Jury also decided to examine the December 21st and the October 19th exam as well. As a result of the Grand Jury investigation, the CSC decided to abolish the police appointment list on legal advice that they had acted incorrectly. Thus, while the County Grand Jury was still investigating the exams, no new police were being added to the street, giving Stokes’ enemies ammunition to discredit his administration. In

444 Cuyahoga Grand Jury Report, April 1969 Term, to the Honorable George J. McMonagle, Presiding Judge, April 1969 Term, from Joseph Nook, Foreman, Container 87, Folder 1721, CBS Papes; Estelle Zannes, Checkmate in Cleveland (Cleveland: Case Westem Reserve Press, 1972), p. 148-157; Cleveland Plain D ealer, 3 October 68.

288 mid-April while the tests were still under investigation, Stokes' foes in City Council began to demand the ouster of White, Butts, and Chemoff. Councilmen Anthony Garofoli declared that "something is drastically wrong" with the Commission and that unless Stokes was satisfied with their performance "he ought to ask for their resignations," since he was "essentially in control of the CSC." Councilman Blaha expressed similar feelings that Stokes should "oust" his three appointees. Likewise, Councilman Richard Harmody believed that Stokes' appointees did not "know how to handle the job." Even one of Stokes' black supporters in council suggested that the CSC controversy created problems not only for the administration, but they were becoming a "tremendous concern" in the black community as well.^^^

In response, Stokes warned his appointees that if the investigation revealed wrongdoing then they would be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. These remarks, which were Stokes' first on the subject, came during a city council meeting immediately after Councilmen John J. Prince introduced a resolution calling for an investigation into the conduct of the CSC. But Stokes cautioned council that it must wait to see the Grand Jury's report regarding potential criminal wrongdoing. To further appease city council, Stokes issued a public statement aimed directly at White, Butts, and Chemoff: "The Commission works independent of any governmental body. However, as mayor I have the power of appointment and removal of its membership, and therefore, while their generations are outside of my jurisdiction, the Commission's membership is not." While everyone awaited the Grand Jury's report, Stokes' allies were privately advising him to oust the three so that he could move on with his legislative agenda. They were also concemed that the Grand Jury was stalling, attempting to hold out until the 1969 mayoral election, with the intent of mining his re-election bid. In early May Stokes began attacking the Grand Jury's delay: "1

Cleveland Press, 21 April 69, 18 April 69; Call and Past, 26 April 69.

289 cannot imagine what is bolding up the investigation." Stokes' comments were framed in the context that the probe was preventing new officers from joining the force, which he directly related to the growing crime rate. Stokes' criticism brought sharp reply from Assistant County Prosecutor George Mascerino: "The prosecutor's office is interested in getting all the facts, not just some of them." Mascerino went on to say that any time an investigation centered around alleged misconduct and irregularities of public officials, "it is necessary to make certain that no stone is unturned to discover whether or not such charges are true or untrue. The public will only benefit if there is a full and complete disclosure." Stokes' efforts to place the blame for the lack of new police officers fooled no one. Many of his critics wanted to know why only eight policemen had been added to the force in eighteen months, and they also wanted an explanation about the income tax increase that was supposed to guarantee a bigger police force. These were questions Stokes could not place at anyone else's doorstep. He was responsible for the CSC fiasco.'*'*® The intense demand for stronger law enforcement compelled Stokes to place one- hundred police candidates in training on an "emergency basis" despite the Grand Jury probe. "It is essential that we provide more police in the streets to combat the admitted increase in crime," Stokes said, "we cannot wait until the Grand Jury Probe is completed." The one-hundred cadets had already passed the requisite tests and were approved by both Gerity and McManamon. To assist with the manpower shortage Police Chief Joseph McMananom moved eighty light-duty personnel to street patrol, replacing them with civilian's.'*'*^ VII In late June 1969, the Grand Jury issued interim indictments against Jay White and Charles Butts on charges of perjury in answering questions posed before the Grand Jury.

'*'*6 Cleveland Press, 5 May 69, 5 June 69. Cleveland Press, 13 June 69, 16 June 69.

290 They were also charged with alleged mutilation of CSC records. Many legal experts were shocked because the entire matter was still under investigation. Many also logically concluded that this was an apparent attempt to discredit Stokes. When the indictments were handed down. White and Butts resigned immediately, with Stokes appointing David Sindell, a local attorney, to oversee the CSC. However, the dark cloud was not lifted because the Grand Jury still had not released its flndings.'^^® As Stokes' re-election bid went into high gear in September, the Grand Jury released its report. As expected, the Grand Jury blamed Stokes, the CSC, and the NAACP for "security leaks" that occurred in all of the examinations. The report stated specifically that police candidates recruited by the NAACP were given unfair advantages over other candidates by being allowed to file applications after the deadline, given fee waivers, and being allowed to register at NAACP headquarters instead of the offices of the Commission. It also found that the NAACP practice test given during the training sessions was the exact exam given on October 19, 1968. Moreover, the psychologists who drafted the test were also instructors at the NAACP sessions. The report also noted that throughout Stokes' tenure veteran CSC members Claybome George and Thomas Ryan were often excluded from meetings. The Grand Jury also questioned the January promotional test by noting that a copy of the exam had been found "folded and coffee stained." It labeled this test "the greatest tragedy and misuse of manpower and public funds and misapplication of both that any Grand Jury could ever expect to find." While attacking Stokes, the Prosecutor went out of his way to "praise" the Cleveland Police Department for its cooperation. In closing, the report stated that the "responsibility to correct the damage that has been wrongfully done was and is upon those in command of the situation, the administration of the City of Cleveland. "449

448 Call and Post, 5 July 69. 449 "Grand Jury Report"; Call and Post, 20 September 69; Cleveland Press, 13

291 The black community was angered about what the report failed to mention. First, many wanted to know why the policemen who testified that he acquired a copy of the test did not receive a stiff punishment for his refusal to disclose how he got the test. Second, they were anxious to know why the Grand Jury neglected to mention that the NAACP program was open to all applicants, black and white. From their standpoint, the Grand Jury report was just a one-sided political ploy aimed at further embarrassing their mayor. In response to the blistering report, Stokes defended the role of the NAACP by pointing out that there was no "direct evidence presented of any wrongdoing by NAACP recruiters." Stokes' main concern however, was that the Grand Jury failed to investigate the role of the CPD in acquiring the tests. Prior to the release of the report, Stokes conducted his own investigation into police misconduct during the promotional test. He found that twenty-seven white policemen had been in the possession of the tests . In answering the Grand Jury's report, Stokes called for a more thorough investigation into the roles of the CPD. Weeks later however, the investigation was officially closed when a deal was struck dropping felony charges against White and Butts in exchange for a guilty plea on lesser charges.^^® Although Stokes was never implicated in the Civil Service Commission testing scandal, he occupied the key position since he appointed the commissioners who did the testing. The clumsiness of the CSC hurt Stokes on two levels. First, in the eyes of white moderates he was seen as taking illegal steps to place blacks on the force. And secondly, it further ruptured his already tenuous relationship with the Fraternal Order of Police and the proponents of strong law enforcement who were expecting additional officers to join the safety forces. But the black working-class saw the CSC controversy another way, as a conspiracy to discredit Stokes, just because he wanted to place more African-Americans on

September 69. 450 Ibid.

292 the force. Lost in the entire drama was the basic cause of the Commission’s problems; the police force's determination to resist changes in civil service procedures that would allow blacks to get on the force.'^^ i

The Civil Service Commission fiasco and the Lee-Seville housing controversy constituted major setbacks for the Stokes administration. The momentum generated during the Grst eight months of his administration had all but evaporated; his coalition was firactured. While the Glenville riot cost him business backing, the Lee-Seville housing proposal cost him black middle-class support, and now the CSC problems cost him the support of the white moderate. VIII

As Stokes prepared for yet another campaign. Rabbi David Hill and his congregation, the House of Israel, began a six-month battle to place four white-owned, inner-city McDonald's firanchises into the hands of black owners. Bom on November 28, 1928, in Nashville, Arkansas, into a family of sharecroppers, David Hill "ran away" to Tyler, Texas, at age fifteen, "to find a better way of life." After serving in the United States Army from 1943-1946, Hill attended Nashville Christian Institute to study theology. While pastoring a church in Little Rock, Arkansas, he "got involved" in the local movement to desegregate public schools. During the 1950s however. Hill began a string of illegal activity. This led to a conviction for forgery in 1951, and another conviction for grand larceny in 1959. Three years later the state of Illinois convicted him of a "con game," and in 1964 the thirty-seven year old Hill was wanted in Cleveland on charges of issuing more than $9000 in bad checks. Hill eventually served time in the Ohio State Hospital for the Criminal Insane. In 1966 "Bishop " Hill established the House of Israel on Cleveland's East side and adopted the title "Rabbi, " since "calling myself a Reverend and a Christian

Point of View, 19 March 70.

293 minister was really supporting, condoning, and strengthening slavery." Hill was a strong exponent of Black Christian Nationalism, often telling his followers that A&ican-Americans were the children of Israel, the chosen race of God, "the real Jews. This means that Jesus is a black man, in fact, a Black Nationalist, a man concerned about the Nation, Israel." This deep belief that God was on the side of African-Americans inspired him to undertake a battle for black ownership of McDonald'sfranchises.'*^^

The McDonald's controversy began in late February 1969 when Hill went to McDonald's regional headquarters in Columbus to discuss the possibility of black ownership on the East side of Cleveland. Hül believed that blacks should be in charge of some of the outlets in their own community. These particular outlets were some of the nation's busiest in terms of gross revenues, with the East Eighty-Third Street and Euclid Avenue location generating the most revenue in the entire country. Although white-owned McDonald's franchises employed black workers. Hill considered this relationship pure colonialism. At the heart of the matter white business owners were reaping huge economic benefits.

When HÜ1 notified McDonald's Inc. officials about his concerns for black ownership, they met and discussed the matter. Weeks later, under a strange arrangement. Hill presented Rev. Ernest Hilliard of Cleveland as a potential buyer for a franchise. In attendance at the meeting were McDonald's Vice President of Franchising, Edward Bood, Rabbi David Hill, James Raplin, Hill's assistant, and Rev. Arthur Lemon, Mayor Stokes' executive assistant. This group agreed that Rev. Hilliard would spend a week at McDonald's national headquarters in Chicago "to thoroughly investigate the McDonald's operation." Upon his return to Cleveland, he would have a trial run for a week as an operator of a local franchise. However, when Hilliard completed the training, it was

Interview with Rabbi David Hill, in B lacktow n , p. 278-295; Cleveland Press, 30 May 64, 14 July 69; Plain Dealer, 31 May 64, 16 July 69.

294 discovered that he did not have the requisite capital to purchase a franchise. McDonald's officials stated that after Hilliard underwent "intensive interviewing and training" they concluded that he would be an "acceptable prospective franchisee." But although he was "approved" as a buyer, his financial statement, in their words, greatly "overestimated" his financial resources. Moreover, "his ability to secure the financing did not materialize." To make matters worse, as the controversy over Hilhard's applicaüon continued, he was murdered in his front yard by two white men. Although it was never proven that the murder was related to his attempt to purchase a franchise. Rabbi Hill and others, such as Afro-Set leader Harllel Jones, certainly thought so."^53

With Hilliard's death ending his candidacy for a franchise, McDonald's then approved another potential black buyer, Charles Johnson, who was outside of Rabbi Hill's sphere of influence. Johnson was particularly attractive to McDonald's because he had already completed their training program, and also because he had obtained bank financing to make the purchase. The emergence of Johnson as a potential buyer upset Rabbi Hill. Although Hill had a sincere interest in the economic welfare of the black community, he was also involved in the controversy to make money. In the early weeks of the controversy Hill was openly soliciting and receiving "seed money" in the thousands from prospective buyers. With Johnson's approval on the heels of Hilliard's rejection. Rabbi Hill began to question McDonald's motives, suggesting that they were not acting in good faith. Shortly after McDonald's announced Johnson's approval. Hill's own bid to purchase a franchise was flatly rejected. As the debate continued. Hill received the support from CORE, NAACP, CUL, AfroSet, the United Pastor's Association, SCLC, and the Federation of Black Nationalists. Out of this cooperation arose Operation Black Unity (OBU), which was officially launched on June 21 at the Call and Post building. Rabbi Hill

453 "McDonald's Chronology,” Container 32, Folder 583, CBS Papers; Edward Bood to Operation Black Unity, 3 July 69, Container 32, Folder 583; Jones Interview.

295 was named chairman. The group decided it would take the McDonald's issue as its first unity effort.^54

To resolve the dispute, OBU scheduled a July 5th meeting with McDonald's representatives. OBU hoped that McDonald's would either negotiate through them to find qualified black buyers, or set up special financing for potential buyers who would not otherwise qualify. In addition, OBU was also hoping that white-owners would sell their franchises below market value to a black owner. All optimism to resolve the controversy quickly disappeared when McDonald's officials declined the invitation to negotiate. McDonald's said it would not attend because it felt Hill failed "to assume responsible and reasonable approach to the solution of problems." In the letter, McDonald's Vice President Edward Bood remarked that McDonald's had made a "sincere effort" in previous meetings to establish a "meaningful" and "national " dialogue with the House of Israel. However, "the presence of body guards...at such meetings hardly contributed to a climate of reasonable and rationale discussions," and as a result, McDonald's found those early meetings "totally unproductive inasmuch as it was virtually impossible to communicate fundamental principles," largely because of a "strident, emotionally charged, racial position" taken by Hill and his aides. The letter closed by stating that McDonald's was "ready," "willing," and "able," to meet with the more "respectable" members of the all­ black coalition, but not Hill and his gang."*^^ Due to McDonald's absence at the July 5th meeting, OBU decided to boycott the five McDonald's outlets in the black community. On Thursday July 10th, members of the OBU began picketing the five inner-city outlets, located at 10411 St. Clair, 13705 Euclid Ave., 9101 Kinsman, 14235 Kinsman, and 8230 Euclid, the nation's busiest. Members of the black community who supported OBUs position turned out in great numbers forcing

**54 "McDonald's Chronology." 455 Bood to OBU.

296 the 8230 Euclid location and the franchise at 14235 Kinsman Avenue to shut its doors shortly after 12:00 noon due to lack of business. James Shafer, manager of the 82nd and Euclid location, closed his store at 12:35 PM after seeing "ten carloads of black nationalists in black jackets and berets" outside telling patrons not to enter. With the AffoSet successful in closing down two locations, greater success was achieved the next day as all five picketed locations closed. Shafer, the defiant manager, kept his store open until 9PM,

although wimesses stated that business at his store was virtually non-existent.'^^e

IX As the picketing gained momentum, three of the four owners stated that they would sell, if the price was right. Their proposition posed another problem since each one of the locations grossed roughly $100,000 annually. The owners were set a purchase price of around $300,000, with the owner of the 82nd and Euclid outlet seeking $600,000. A meeting between OBU and McDonald's on July 12th ended after less than five minutes when McDonald's refused to accept the House of Israel as OBU's negotiating team. It would only recognize the House of Israel as a member of the OBU, and refused to deal with them exclusively. McDonald's rationale for its refusal to deal with Hill was that the House of Israel was representing "its own interests and objectives and not those of the black community." In addition, the hamburger chain found Hill's confrontational and coercive style bordering on extortionist tactics. "The threats and intimidation directed towards independent McDonald's licenses in Cleveland with the objective of having them sell their businesses to persons selected by the House of Israel is hardly compatible with our company's objectives," stated Edward Bood, McDonald's Vice President of Franchising. McDonald's steadfast refusal to negotiate with Hill on these grounds were fallacious. Hill did have a shaky reputation, but he had the support of the community with

Plain Dealer, 11 July 69, 12 July 6; Jones Interview.

297 him on this issue. Indeed, many of his supporters in the boycott knew of his lengthy criminal record, and often cringed at the thought of him being a preacher of the gospel, but they agreed with his position on economic nationalism, that the black community should control the dollars in their community. In their eyes McDonald's was just attempting to divide the coalition, with hopes that OBU would remove Hill as leader, and in his place appoint a more conservative or compromising negotiator.'^^^ With both sides holding their positions, the negotiations reached a stalemate. The picketing continued, causing several of the outlets to temporarily shutdown. With their franchises losing revenue, McDonald’s was placed in an awkward position for its refusal to negotiate with Hill. "We were most disappointed," said Bood, ""we thought we would have an opportunity to talk with the moderate and responsible organizations. But Hill asked if we were prepared to recognize OBU. Then he asked if we were prepared to negotiate with the House of Israel alone. We were not. McDonald's attempt to exploit class divisions within the OBU was poorly received, especially when the middle-class oriented NAACP and CUL passed a resolution urging its members to withhold patronage from McDonald's. On the heels of the NAACP resolution came another strong show of support from the Rev. Donald Jacobs, executive director of the Council of Churches: "Businesses have to recognize that to succeed in the black community they must give equal opportunity at all levels to black persons including ownership." McDonald's refusal to negotiate with the House of Israel upset many sympathizers with the black freedom struggle. Summing up the community's reaction toward McDonald's position was Charles Cooks, Midwest Director of CORE. "Whites can no longer choose the blacks they prefer to negotiate with nor dictate terms based on

Plain Dealer, II July 69, 12 July 69; Cleveland Press, 12 July 69, 17 July 69; Bood to McDonald's; Call and Post, 19 July 69. Plain Dealer 15 July 69; Cleveland Press, 15 July 69.

298 racist attltudes...they are looking for good niggers." Cook later added that a sale without the participation of OBU would not be recognized.'*^^ Days later McDonald's was forced to soften its stance against Operation Black Unity and Hill because the boycotts were keeping the stores closed. Moreover, McDonald's came to realize that the OBU coalition could not be fractured, because the members of OBU still held the "utmost confidence" in Hill's leadership. However, in spite of McDonald's announcement that it would negotiate with Hill, picketing continued for another week before OBU agreed to retum to the negotiating table. Two days prior to the meeting, OBU published a ten-page manifesto outlining its demands.

1. Ownership of the Five McDonald's Restaurants in the Black Communities of Cleveland. 2. Ownership of the unchanged boundary and/or territory rights of future McDonald restaurants in black communities. 3. Franchise royalties from these five restaurants normally received by McDonald's. 4. Irrevocable franchise rights. 5. The right to select and approve franchise buyers.^®® The manifesto stated that McDonald's Inc. was representative of the institutional discrimination that pervaded U.S. businesses. It further read that economic discrimination imposed on black people was a "barrier" to human rights and freedom. However, by turning over the white-owned/inner-city outlets to black buyers, McDonald's would be taking a significant step in reversing this trend.'*^ • X OBU had a strong case against McDonald's and its policy of excluding black ownership. Of the approximately twelve hundred franchise owners in the United States, only one, Theodore Jones of Chicago, was an Aftican-American, although a significant

Plain Dealer, 16 July 69; Cleveland Press, 18 July 69; ^60 "Operation Black Unity-Pcsition Paper," Container 33, Folder 608, CBS P a p ers. Ibid; Cleveland Press, 17 July 69; Plain Dealer, 18 July 69.

299 portion of the restaurants were located in the black inner-city, "the locale of the biggest money makers." In OBUs opinion, McDonald's "knowingly, willfully, and systematically approved and executed a policy of franchise placements that excluded black ownership." In response to OBUs claims that their policy was deliberate, McDonald's contended that the financial resources and business acumen needed to own and operate a store were virtually

nonexistent in the black c o m m u n i t y

With regards to the demands. Rabbi Hill stated that "all of the proposals we took to the meeting are negotiable," but cautioned that no deal would be accepted unless the black community would reap economic benefits. Echoing Hill's statement was CORE director Charles Cook, who emphasized that OBU was interested in working out a solution whereby the entire community would benefit, not just a handful of black business owners. "We're not talking about making a half-dozen black millionaires. CORE is interested in a structure in which profits from the restaurants will benefit the total black community." In Cook's eyes this was simply the politics of black self-determination, "that means define your turf and control it." United Pastor's Association Director, Rev. Jonathan Ealy, agreed with Cook, "We must have black control of our businesses...," he contended, "the black community has no other place to reap benefits but in the black community." Although the demands by OBU paralleled, to some extent, the tactics of the earlier Future Outlook League, all participants agreed that the economic demands made this protest different from previous movements. "The objective is different from that of former picketing...it is to make them hurt to the point that they stop playing games and consummate the negotiation that has been going on for sometime. I think this form of picketing is just as ethical and just as moral," said CUL official. Rev. Emmanuel S. Branch.'*^^

‘*62 "Operation Black Unity-Position Paper," Container 3 3 , Folder 6 0 8 , CBS P a p ers. ^63 "Position Paper-OBU;" Plain Dealer 26 July 69.

300 McDonald's immediately agreed to three of OBU's five demands. However, they would not agree on the issue of irrevocable franchise rights, nor on the 2.2% royalty fee. McDonald's officials stated that the royalty fee was in exchange for "valuable assistance and consultation services" provided by headquarters, and that if the fees were not sent to headquarters, then the requisite services would not be offered. On the issue of franchise rights, McDonald's stated that they would never grant an irrevocable franchise license. With McDonald's refusal to budge on these demands, picketing forced the stores to remain closed. Still, Rabbi Hill was confident that they were close to an agreement, "we expect to be able to reach agreement within a week.'"*®'* As the negotiations continued members of the black middle-class began to criticize the tactics of Operation Black Unity under Hill's leadership. Receiving the most criticism was the NAACP and the CUL, which were in total support of Hill. Voicing the charges was Stokes' former campaign manager Dr. Ken Clement and accommodationist Councilman Leo Jackson. Clement called the tactics being used against McDonald's blatant extortion, " a just plain shakedown operation. " But he saved his most harshest criticism for Hill and the groups that were supporting him. In a press release, Clement stated: "1 don't see what the NAACP and the Urban League and other responsible organizations are doing following Hill. Are they so bereft of leadership that they must follow the self-styled Rabbi Hill an uncontrite man who brags of a life of crime?" Clement felt that it was inconceivable and unconscionable that the NAACP and the CUL pursue their mission through such an "unholy alliance." Councilman Leo Jackson also chided the groups for "legitimizing" Hill and the nationalists, and asked OBU to end the boycott. The conservative Negro Business and Industrial Association also expressed displeasure with OBUs position. "We are opposed to any group trying to force others to sell their

464 "Position Paper-OBU;" Western Union Telegram-McDonald’s to Operation Black Unity, Container 1, Folder 2, Operation Black Unity Papers, WRHS.

301 business...Negro people must build something of their own instead of taking from others," said President Charles Morris. In spite of their pleas, the picketing continued.''®^ With no end to the controversy in sight, McDonald's decided to reopen the stores on August 9th. In the eyes of McDonald's management, the decision to reopen the stores was not a difficult one. In a telegram McDonald's listed its rationale for reopening the stores; 1. The black employees need their jobs. 2. No black purchaser will buy a closed business. 3. No bank will finance the purchase of a closed business. 4. Government assistance is not available to a closed business. 5. Customers developing other eating habits. 6. The longer the units are closed the greater disadvantage to any black purchaser.

In explaining the decision to reopen, McDonald's Vice-President Edward Bood stressed that unless the businesses were opened black ownership would remain merely a dream, because no black owner would be able to get a loan unless the outlets were operating and producing a profit. He also mentioned that the white owners were willing to sell to black buyers if the price was right. As McDonald's made plans to reopen, NAACP branch President Wendell Erwin and Emmanuel Branch, Cleveland Urban League President sent a letter to the hamburger chain McDonald's asking it to halt its plans; "we feel that the atmosphere within the community is not conducive to reopening at this time. We are proposing a Monday meeting with all parties and we are hopeful that a reasonable settlement can be reached at the meeting." Although Bood was pleased at their offer to

*^^Call and Post, 9 August 69, 16 August 69.

302 meet, he was still committed to opening the stores: "We don't see how we can call off the opening at this point, we have been asking to meet with OBU daily without getting any response.

The royalty fee remained the main source of disagreement, with Bood particularly critical of how the funds would be collected, handled, and distributed. "Operation Black Unity has no trust fund set up, no funds to be administered through any trust fund, no foundation or anything. Who are to be the officers? Who'll get the benefits of any monies collected from royalties, " he asked. Meanwhile the reopened stores did very little business: "we hardly needed pickets at three of them, the black people showed they just don't want to patronize them," Hill declared. On August 1st negotiations between OBU and McDonald's took a different turn; instead of dealing with corporate officials, OBU decided to deal directly with the four local franchise holders being represented by Attorney Seymour Terrell. After a day of talks, a tentative agreement was reached on all five demands as the firanchise holders agreed to give 2% of the sale price and $2500 to OBU to set up programs in the black community, in place of the 2.2% royalty fee. However, when the contracts were sent to McDonald's headquarters for approval, the company rejected them, presumably because McDonald's could not "condone" payment to an OBU fund. "McDonald's will not give us the letter listing the three points they had agreed to in earlier talks, without this letter the deal is off," said Edward Greenwald, who along with Terrell were representing the owners. Terrell expressed serious disappointment over the rejection, "I feel that all my efforts to settle this matter have been repudiated. I thought we had hammered out an agreement that was fair to all people." Greenwald was especially upset at McDonald's actions because the agreement "would not cost McDonald's one cent!"

4 6 6 "Black Voices: Organ of Black Information Service," Container 1, Folder 3, OBU Papers; Western Union Telegram from McDonald’s Inc. to Rev. Donald G. Jacobs, 6 August 69, Container 1, Folder 2, OBU Papers; Plain Dealer, 8 August 69.

303 Stanley Tolliver, lead counsel for OBU, felt betrayed by McDonald’s actions. He observed that, "the action by McDonald's seems to make it clear that their fianchise holders are not as independent as the company has tried to make them appear in the past." Instead of agreeing to the individual $2500 donations and the 2% sale price fee designed by the individual owners, McDonald's agreed to contribute to a fund under the supervision of a non-profit organization, with the guidance of OBU. Also, McDonald's promised to lead a fundraising effort for a community swimming pool, playground, and recreation center. But OBU officials would not accept this type of arrangement. They wanted McDonald's to contribute to a project that would economically benefit the black community, they were not interested in recreational facilities.'^®^ As the dispute wore on moderate factions within the NAACP and CUL launched an in-house attempt to break with Hdl and OBU. Both attempts failed as the rank-and-file membership agreed to remain in Operation Black Unity. Still, the moderates were successful in applying pressure on Hill to voluntarily resign as the chair of OBUs negotiating group at a September 8th meeting. The principle reason for Hill's resignation was to clear up confusion in the local media, which constantly referred to Hill as the leader of OBU, instead of his correct title, as chair of the negotiating committee. Some OBU members moreover, believed that the negotiations would achieve greater results if Hill stepped down. "I don't share these beliefs," Hill responded, "but they will soon learn that I am not the problem, but the enemy is." With the charismatic Hill removed firom the negotiations, McDonald's became more defiant it its opposition to the trust fund concept. McDonald's lead counsel James Davis threatened to call off negotiations.'*®* Two weeks later, without a resolution in sight, Stokes stepped into the dispute.

'*67 Ca// and Post, 9 August, 16 August , 23 August, 30 August 69; Cleveland Press, 20 August, 28 August 69; Plain Dealer, 20 August 69. '*6* Call and Post, 13 September 69.

304 Although the Mayor had been publicly silent on the issue for months, he was kept informed of the proceedings by CRB member LeMon and CRB Director Bertram Gardner, who attended the meetings throughout the controversy. Stokes' silence on the issue had not gone unnoticed by his critics, but he was consistent in telling them that there was little he could do but provide police protection for both the pickets and store employees. "So far as picketing and the boycott they are no different than any other," said Stokes, "it is as American as apple pie, unions do it everyday. So long as there is no violence, they can picket and boycott as people have been picketed and boycotted before." Many of his critics such as Democratic mayoral candidate Robert Kelley, blamed Stokes for creating the atmosphere that allowed the controversy to exist. "This shows how little he knows about America or apple pie when he tries to compare legitimate picketing with the extortion at McDonald's," Kelly asserted. "If these extortionists are successful who will be next...our city is living in fear. Everybody knows that the situation at McDonald's is typical of what's going on. It must stop at once and the leadership must come from City Hall. " Several milder critics of Stokes' silence hoped that since he was friendly with OBUs leadership, he would use his influence to settle the dispute.'*^^ In armouncing his intervention, Stokes said he was doing so because the issue "was causing serious division within this city." He also did not want to feel the white backlash at the polls in the upcoming election. In a two-hour meeting with attorneys from both sides, Stokes persuaded OBU to call off the boycotting and picketing, and to go back to the negotiating table and resolve the main issue of the dispute- how the black community would be given help in strengthening its economic base. Stokes' intervention was purely political. He merely wanted to make a ceremonial gesture on the eve of his re-election campaign to retain his white support. Perhaps if he had been serving a four-year term he

469 Cleveland Press, 4 September, 5 September, 8 September, 29 September 69; Operation Black Unity Press Release, Container 1, Folder 3, OBU Papers.

305 would have remained silent but supportive. The controversy came to an end in January of 1970 when the non-profit Hough Area Development Corporation purchased two of the franchises, and Charles Johnson bought one of the outlets on Kinsman. In early October, Hill and his aide James Raplin were indicted and subsequently convicted on charges of extortion by an all-white jury. Hill was sentenced to one to five years, while Raplin was given probation. But in spite of Hill's conviction he was solely responsible for the franchises changing hands, not only on the east side, but also across the country as other fast food chains took a more proactive approach toward black ownership. In the aftermath of the Lee-Seville housing fight, the police testing scandal, and the McDonald’s boycott. Mayor Stokes faced an uphill battle for re-election. His first two years were filled with disappointments and he would seek re-election with hopes of achieving greater legislative success.

306 CHAPTER 7

RESURGENCE AND DISAPPOINTMENT

As the Stokes team prepared for another election in the Summer of 1969 they confronted an unfamiliar situation. In Stokes' two previous campaigns he was the challenger, criticizing city leaders for their handling of city affairs. Now however, he was the incumbent, having to defend his own record. With the Glenville riot, the police testing scandal, and the McDonalds' boycott still on the minds of voters, Stokes narrowly gained re-election. Upon beginning his second term Stokes suffered another defeat in his attempt to reform the Cleveland Police Department, but he would achieve greater success in moving the black electorate toward political independence. I Since Stokes was virtually a lock to win the Democratic primary, the only challenger to emerge was Robert Kelly, former city service director under Mayor Ralph Locher. Since Kelly had little name recognition on either side of the Cuyahoga, his campaign revolved around Stokes' disappointments. Along with criticizing Stokes' record, Kelly fanned the flames of racial polarization as he couched his critiques on Stokes within the ideological framework of Law-and-Order. Assisting Kelly in his bid was former school board president Ralph McCallister, whose neglect of black student concerns ignited the school crisis of 1963 and 1964.

307 Robert Kelly opened his campaign at the Italian Cooperative Association Hall located at 15901 St. Clair Avenue, in the heart of Cleveland's white-ethnic community. In his kickoff address Kelly claimed that the city had become a "jungle" under Stokes' leadership. Using the Glenville shoot-out as a lens by which to view the entire Stokes record, Kelly hit hard at the mayor "The first obligation of a government is the protection of life and property, and the Stokes administration has disregarded this principle," Kelly told the cheering, all-white audience. He drew further applause when he remarked that he would not let the city be run by hoodlums and ruffians: "I'll ask the national guard to come in when the police department is incapable of maintaining law and order." After Kelly's kickoff and press conference the overwhelming majority of his remarks mirrored the 1964 and 1968 national campaign of George Wallace. In front of white working-class audiences, Kelly drove home two themes: (1) Stokes had created an atmosphere of lawlessness, and (2) the Stokes administration had created too many controversies. Although Kelly realized that no city "can be entirely free from crime," he lashed out at the 100% increase in crime that had occurred since Stokes had taken office. "All this violence is the direct result of the city administration's buggling and cheating," he contended. He consistently blamed Stokes for the city's escalating murder and crime rate by making a connection between the Glenville riot and crime: "Every homicide since then bears this stigma of permissiveness." He then told business owners that the rise in crime created a hazardous business environment. "Who wants to do business in a city where fear has resulted in the closing of four major movie houses," asked Kelly, "who wants to do business in a city where conventioneers are publicly warned against using the downtown streets at night?" As evidence that Stokes was responsible for the climate of violence, Kelly pointed to Stokes' attitude toward law enforcement during the McDonald's boycott. He contended that "the mayor could not be a negotiator in the McDonald case because he has been an active participant in the extortion...the entire affair has been under his

308 direction." In Kelly's eyes, "serious violations of the law went unsupervised in this community...For weeks the McDonald's restaurant company was picketed and threatened with injury to its business and property purely in the interest of personal gain." At the annual City Club debates one week before the primary, Kelly continued his attacks: "You have divided the city's population. You have made irresponsible decisions. You have been a bad housekeeper and the people believe you have failed badly and that you should not be allowed to continue this thing for two more years." By making cries about Glenville, the escalating crime-rate, and a spirit of lawlessness, Kelly was striking a responsive chord among the city's white-blue-collar ethnic voters, who shared similar views toward Stokes and his administration.'^ Along with the Glenville riot pull-out decision, Kelly challenged several other of the administration's moves, most notably, the character of Stokes’ appointees. On the campaign trail Kelly repeatedly pointed to the scandals of the Civil Service Commission as representative of a larger problem within the Stokes administration. "Which one of his aides went to jail today? Who was indicted today?" Kelly would ask. In Kelly's eyes, the Stokes tenure was the worst in the city's history. "Almost any week you pick over the last two years is as bad in the history of the city. Things have been so bad that people have become anesthetized to the failures and corruption of this administration." In Kelly's words, Cleveland, under Stokes' leadership, "has been scandalized," "maligned," and "cheated." As Kelly was wrapping up his campaign he asked voters "how much more of this can we afford? I believe I am the man who can get the job done."^^ • Although Kelly made headlines with his attacks upon Stokes, his own platform rarely received attention, largely because he did not set forth a program of governance. The major part of Kelly's platform was a fifteen-point program of law enforcement

Plain Dealer, 9 August, 27 September 69; Cleveland Press, 30 September 69. Plain Dealer, 25 September 69.

309 improvements for the Cleveland Police Department These included plans for a new safety director, a curfew for those under age eighteen, improved weapons and rescue apparatus, and regular meetings with the Governor and the Ohio National Guard to "prepare for disorders." With so much of his campaign focused on law-and-order, little attention was given to housing, employment, or education. Then again, he was not running on those issues.^^^ II As Kelly busily campaigned in white areas, Stokes reassembled his power base on the East side. Since his campaign would not be run under the conditions of his two previous races, Stokes was forced to spend much of the summer registering black voters. Beginning in July 1969 Stokes launched a massive voter registration drive. Officially spearheading the effort was Operation Voter Registration, under the leadership of Rev. Arthur LeMon. LeMon established a chain of field offices to provide advice, assistance, and transportation to those wanting to register. Although the voter registration effort was supposed to open with much fanfare, only 200 of the 5,000 invitees were in attendance. The voter registration effort was important because since the 1967 mayoral election thousands of black Clevelanders had been dropped from the voting rolls either because they had moved or they had not voted in the interim. Moreover, to vote in the upcoming elections all persons had to be registered by the middle of August.'*^^ Stokes kicked off his bid for reelection with an address to enthusiastic supporters at his election headquarters. In his speech Stokes gave an appraisal of his two-year term and he also attacked those that sought to further divide the city along racial lines. Stokes acknowledged that his administration had made some grave errors, but, "we have faced up to them, admitted them, corrected them, learned from them." However, in spite of these

Plain Dealer, 25 September 69; Cleveland Press, 24 September 69. Call and Post, 12 July, 19 July 69.

3 10 "mistakes," a new spirit was alive in Cleveland, "the spirit of a city moving ahead." Stokes proudly listed his accomplishments as the nation's first big-city black mayor: The establishment of a city health department; the revitalization of a community development department that was in "shambles, with federal funds frozen"; new city equipment; a new department of human resources and economic development; a clean water task force; a reorganized service department; new housing for the poor, job creation; additional law enforcement equipment; and downtown development. By virtue of these accomplishments Stokes felt certain that the city was gaining "momentum." Stokes' opening remarks revealed his campaign strategy : admit the mistakes by emphasizing that they were learning experiences, but stress the accomplishments, something that even the most die-hard anti- Stokes voter could not debate.'*^')

Following his "kickoff," Stokes made his first campaign trip to the West side to give an "accounting" of his administration. At this gathering he stressed what he considered to be the achievements of his tenure: more police, low-income housing, jobs, and recreation centers. But at this neighborhood event, Stokes also acknowledged that the Glenville riot was a "bitter" experience. He then labeled the testing scandal a "fiasco," even acknowledging, "I made a mistake of poor judgment in some of the members I appointed to the Civil Service Commission." Stokes realized that he was facing tremendous obstacles in getting reelected. The Stokes team accurately predicted that the Mayor was vulnerable in four areas: public safety, the perception that he had not supported the police, his East-side bias, and fiscal mismanagement, particularly with the revelation that Evans had received Cleveland Now! money. Thus, the entire campaign was geared to overcome these impressions. Illustrative of the Stokes strategy were the speeches he gave to two predominantly white working-class audiences. In both meetings Stokes opened by

"*74 "Stokes' Kickoff Remarks," 3 September 69, Container 5, Folder 68, CBS P a p er s.

31 I admitting his mistakes, then repledging his support of law enforcement, and finally arguing that he deserved another term. "There is no question that we have made mistakes, " he declared, "because you can't make mistakes if you are not doing anything." He then went on to state that he placed more patrolmen on the streets and improved the city's fleet of police cars. In closing he pleaded with the all-white audience to re-elect him: "I've come to ask your consideration and help to be re-elected and have another two years in office, not only to carry out programs, but to use the experience we have gained and add to it.'"*^^ Stokes' strategy was not only geared to winning the primary, where he was the overwhelming favorite, but it was also designed to help him retain some white support for the general election. Stokes realized that Kelly was not a formidable opponent, but the general election would be different, and the Stokes team realized that the majority of white democrats would vote along racial lines in November giving their vote to the GOP candidate. Thus, the Stokes strategy was designed to keep white Democrats from bolting to the GOP as they had done in the previous two mayoral elections. Voters responded to the Stokes message as they soundly sent Kelly to defeat, 92,219 to 60,899.

I ll As the General election approached. County Auditor Ralph Perk received the endorsement of the GOP. His campaign strategy developed around the themes of law-and- order, fiscal mismanagement, and that he was a friend of the working-class. Prior to making a formal declaration of his candidacy, Perk remarked that if he became mayor he would have to "throw the rascals out of city hall." Perk promised that he would be an "on- the-job mayor," and that he would hire more police to patrol the streets to prevent "frightening and persistent increases in lawlessness and disorders." Continuing on the law-and-order theme. Perk declared: "here in the city of Cleveland our streets are so unsafe

Plain Dealer, 19 September, 20 September 69; William Levy to Stokes, "Action Plan for Primary Campaign, " Container 5, Folder 70, CBS Papers.

3 12 that residents on the east side, the south side, and the west side, are afraid to come out at night...The streets are so unsafe that people are even afraid when they come out in the daytime." If elected, he argued, "I am going to spend endless time here on the job at city hall to make the streets safe once again." Perk also used his kick-off as an opportunity to attack what he termed to be Stokes’ greatest accomplishment: "the spending of taxpayer’s money and showing no results...The present mayor is spending twice as much or more to run the mayor’s front office than his immediate predecessor. The people of Cleveland cannot afford to support countless unnecessary jobs...when these jobs are not adding to the effectiveness of city government. As in several of his previous races. Perk sought to portray himself as the working­ man’s candidate. "One of his (Stokes’) youngsters attends University School and is regularly chauffeured to the school in a car driven by uniformed chauffeurs," Perk asserted, "The mayor’s personal taste in clothing involving $250.00 suits has been commented on in the New York Times. ” Perk further exploited this image by sponsoring six .98 dinners, a satirical move to Stokes’ $100.00 a plate fiind-raisers. At a gathering at the Polish Women’s Hall, the sight of one of the .98 dinners. Perk played the average-Joe character to perfection. "I’m just an average neighbor and average citizen, like yourself. Your presence indicates you appreciate a bargain .98 dinner, and you understand that the people of Cleveland are getting no bargain at City Hall these days. ” He also raised questions about Stokes’ fiscal managerial ability and promised not to raise taxes to support social programs: ”I can assure you that whatever office in which I serve as a public official. I’m going to do everything I can to keep taxes down, to eliminate waste of taxpayer’s money and to operate my administration within the bounds of good govemment."'*’^’^

Cleveland Press, 25 June 69. ^^77 Plain Dealer, 26 June 69, 27 March 69; Cleveland Press, 10 April 69.

313 Perk’s candidacy generated considerable excitement in white ethnic wards. At a GOP sponsored Labor Day picnic, approximately 40,000 people braved the rain for a "People for Perk Picnic." At the park he delivered a brief, but emotional, talk on Stokes’ ineffectiveness as being the chief cause for the breakdown of law-and-order. Perk shouted that "words and charisma ” could not revitalize the city, "only effort and zeal. Oratory and showmanship will not cut down the constant rise of crime on our streets. When darkness falls, Cleveland’s downtown streets are deserted...! promise to spend endless hours on the job as mayor of Cleveland to make our streets safe once more." He then went on to equate Stokes’ fiscal mismanagement with the rise in crime. "Cleveland’s mounting crime rate is all the more shocking when we realize that we are spending more money than ever before in the history of our city...With a budget of over 100 million dollars, why can't we have more policemen?" Perk clearly knew which themes to stress. By playing upon the fears of white citizens. Perk attracted thousands of supporters as the election drew closer.'*^* Perk's law-and-order cries were naturally attractive to the rank-and-file of the Cleveland Police Department, who by this time could not imagine serving another two years under Stokes. Although Perk had their support, albeit by default, he nevertheless cultivated them by openly criticizing the leadership of the safety forces. In a televised interview Perk shocked no one when he stated that if elected there would be a shake-up in the safety department: "under no circumstances could I keep Joe McManamon. I'm sure Chief Gerity knows that if I'm elected his days are numbered." The moderator then asked what he would do to improve law enforcement. Perk responded that he would give the police the kind of equipment needed to carry out their Jobs, "equal or superior to that used by criminals.'"^^^ In a speech given to the Cleveland Police Patrolmen's Association, Perk hit at the

‘♦78 Cleveland Press, 8 September 69. Plain Dealer, 3 October 69.

314 police testing scandai: "I will work with you to re-establish faith in the Civil Service Commission...one free of scandal. Two of the three appointees of Mayor Stokes have been indicted. How can we, the people, have confidence in appointments made by the mayor." Perk also disputed Stokes' claim that he placed more than three-hundred additional police on the force. "No one knows better than you," Perk told the officers, "that there aren't three-hundred more men on the streets...The police chief knows it. The safety director knows it. But who do you think doesn't know it," he asked. "The mayor," they shouted back emphatically. Perk stayed on this theme two weeks later after it had been revealed that Chief Gerity refused to attend a swearing-in ceremony for new police recruits, largely because he felt that they were unqualified. "We are in the midst of a city scandal, " said Perk, "there's something wrong at city hall when the police chief refuses to attend a swearing-in ceremony for new police officers because he regards one-third of them as unfit." Continuing, he said, "there is something wrong at city hall when the FOP demands an investigation of those appointments. That something goes right to the top, right to the mayor's office." Perk suggested that the police were not the only ones dissatisfied with the mayor, but also "Stokes' own police Chief Gerity is disenchanted with the mayor, and he has lots of company...It's time for new leadership in the city."^8° As the campaign approached election day Perk began to question Stokes' relationship with local black nationalist organizations. "When I am elected," he remarked, "we will get rid of all these unofficial armies that now are parading the city." He specifically wanted to know Stokes' relationship with Baxter Hill, self-proclaimed black nationalist and ghetto trouble-shooter for the Mayor. "Who is Baxter Hill? Why does he have his own army? Who is paying for that army? Is it being paid from out of Cleveland Now! funds?" he asked. "Why is he called the unofficial chief of police? Why does

Cleveland Press, 13 October 69, 20 October 69.

315 Cleveland Now! money support his unofficial army The entire Perk strategy was geared to attract the white voter. He gave no significant attention to the black East side, making only token appearances. In one of his last campaign appearances Perk implied that the whites who voted for Stokes in 1967 were foolish. "In 1967 Carl Stokes with his glib talk, his nice pretty smile and his debating skill persuaded 27% of the decent people of this community to vote for him. Are you going to be fooled again?" he asked."* Since Perk spent much of the campaign criticizing the deficiencies of the Stokes administration, political experts were not aware of Perk's plans for leadership. Not until one week before the election did he reveal a platform, and even then, it was almost exclusively focused on stopping crime. Along with vague plans for fiscal management he offered several solutions to the crime problem, including: the appointment of a new safety director and police chief; reorganizing the Civil Service Commission; and appointing five hundred new police. Like Kelly, Perk said nothing of housing, employment, health, and welfare. In fact on several occasions he implied that city hall was doubling as a welfare office, and that if elected "all able-bodied people capable of leaving those welfare rolls will be pressed to gain meaningful employment." Perks' strategy worked as he picked up momentum in the weeks prior to the election. It was clear to all that Perk had much of the white ethnic vote. Stokes' only chance was to mobilize his black support, and retain his moderate white base, a task that would not be easy."*83

IV Immediately after the primaries Stokes began solidify his support in the black community. Although everyone realized that there was still considerable support on the

481 Cleveland Press, 25 October 69. 482 Plain Dealer, 27 October 69. 483 Cleveland Press, 2 November 69.

3 16 black East side, he could not afford to take the black vote for granted. The theme developed toward the black electorate emphasized that unless they turned out to vote in great numbers Stokes would lose the election. Under Stokes' two-year term the black community had received city services in unprecedented fashion, and the campaign toward black voters was centered around this. They would utilize three avenues: word-of-mouth, handbills, and the pages of the Call and Post. But according to pre-election polls, black Clevelanders did not have to be convinced to vote for Stokes. In a random survey in seven East side wards, black Clevelanders were asked the question, "What does Carl Stokes being mayor mean to you?" The two most popular reasons given were "he is an inspiration" for the community, and "he has shown the white people what an intelligent Negro is capable of doing." Along with these symbolic benefits, black Clevelanders pointed to tangible benefits as well. A twenty-eight year old black domestic remarked "I never saw a snow plow on our street before." A recent homebuyer gave Stokes credit for helping him purchase a home: "Mayor Stokes got the loan for me, he called the finance company and said I was OK so I could get this house near the school for my kids." When asked if Stokes had been a mayor for the entire community," black respondents overwhelmingly answered yes, offering as evidence that "he kept things quiet when MLK was assassinated," and "his courage in ending the shooting in Glenville." Other residents fully subscribed to Stokes' riot-insurance rhetoric, that if he were defeated then racial unrest would be inevitable. One supporter believed that "Negroes listen better since Stokes has been in," while another felt that Stokes' true value lay in his message of patience, "he can tell people not to tear things apart but wait for improvements." While this mood guided the Stokes team in the black East side wards a rather elaborate strategy was geared to white voters.'**'^

^84 Cleveland Press, 17 October 69.

3 17 Directing the Stokes re-election campaign was the integrated tandem of Arnold Pinkney and Hugh Corrigan. As expected they led a split campaign, one directed at the "soft" white community, and another on the black East side. The approach to moderate whites was that "Stokes has made a good start and that he deserves two more years to continue the job that he started in 1967." Since moderate whites were the focus, Stokes' campaign stumping was concentrated on the eleven wards west of the Cuyahoga. The white East side wards were conceded to Perk, therefore, Stokes did not devote much attention to that area. But in gearing its campaign to the West side Stokes organizers had to overcome the perception, and to some extent the reality, that Stokes had been an East side mayor who had neglected the concerns of his West side constituents. To dispel this feeling, the Stokes team drafted the "West Side Story," a journalistic piece listing Stokes' accomplishments on the West side. In circulars, Stokes listed his accomplishments in the area of public safety, recreation, health, and air and water pollution. Of these "accomplishments" the most notable was the creation of additional police zones, an ambitious street resurfacing program, and Cleveland Now! expenditures to west side programs. While this brochure listed the facts it was clearly campaign propaganda. When Stokes' critics claim that he was only giving the East side his attention, they were right. The eleven wards were only a concern of Stokes' when election time came around.^® ^ Gaining votes on the West side would not be easy because Perk's candidacy was attracting two groups of white voters: "those who think that race relations have relaxed sufficiently so that taxes and other good government issues are more important, and those who seem to be itching for a showdown, police confrontation with the black East side." Thus, Stokes sought white voters who still believed that he could keep the hd on black umest. A thirty-one year old white TV repairman and former George Wallace supporter

“*85 "Campaign Strategy-Special to the West Side News," Container 5, Folder 72, CBS Papers.

3 18 told a reporter that he wanted Stokes re-elected because "his being a darkie helps keep trouble down." The parents of a sixteen year-old white girl who was taking cosmetology classes on the East side explained why they were sticking with Stokes: "It will be bad for any white man to take over as mayor, Stokes has the colored with him. It's better to stay with a black mayor." A white housewife expressed similar thoughts, "Stokes will keep the trouble down. The colored feel happy when he's elected." The other group of whites that Stokes wanted to mobilize were those that were both happy with his accomplishments and disappointed at his mistakes, but who nonetheless felt that he deserved another two years in office. Selling this line was the white business elite, the local press, and white liberals. The support of the business community was critical to Stokes chances for reelection. Since he had entered office Stokes had created an excellent business environment which resulted in a temporary halt of jobs leaving the central city. In addition, Stokes' mayoralty had been good for the business sector whose advice and support he solicited throughout his first two years. The business elite was certainly impressed with many of Stokes' constructive programs including a building boom downtown, large federal expenditures toward public housing, aSlOO million anti-pollution bond issue, increased city revenues, and a $65 million airport expansion. The thinking of the business community was that although Stokes had made several mistakes, "he should be allowed to pursue his programs...now that he has more knowledge of the job, of the city, and of his mistakes."'**^ While several wealthy Republicans were funding the Stokes effort he was having a hard time receiving full support of his own Democratic party. Holding the trump card in this situation was City Council President James Stanton. Although the county-wide Democratic organization had publicly endorsed Stokes, Stanton openly withheld support, causing several of his council underlings to do likewise. In spite of Stanton's indifference.

Plain Dealer, 22 October 69, 27 March 69; Cleveland Press, 21 May 69.

319 the entire county party put on a display of unity at the annual Democratic Party Rally where officials from all levels and branches of government attended in a symbolic display of support/^7

At the rally, Stokes emphasized the accomplishments of his administration and he also levied attacks at Perk. Besides the construction boom and increased federal funding, Stokes also stressed his reorganization of the CPD, placing more officers on the streets, and a new $6.5 million police communications center. In the area of community development, Stokes talked of the five-thousand plus public housing units he either constructed or rehabed, and stricter housing code enforcement. Stokes also spoke of his efforts at creating new jobs through his own Human Resources and Economic Development department. Since taking office in 1967, 3100 members of the hard-core unemployed had been placed in jobs through the various job training programs. Stokes was also quick to mention the $lmillion water pollution bond issue which was used to clean up Lake Erie and his appointment of a clean water task force. In the area of city services, Stokes made sure voters were aware of his efforts to replace the city's obsolete equipment, and to meet the city's health needs by establishing the city's Health and Welfare department. He also drove home that he placed seven new health centers across the

City.488

StiU some white voters were still of the mindset that Stokes was ignoring their needs. In Perk territory and in certain parts of the West side, Stokes was not given credit for resurrecting the city. Instead a Stokes mayoralty meant four things: (1) extortion of

Plain Dealer, 17 October 69; Cleveland Press, 2 October 69. 488 "The Stokes Record," Container 5, Folder 72, Container 5, Folder 73, CBS Papers; Bilinski Campaign Materials, Container 5, Folder 68, CBS Papers; Murway to Stokes, re: "Taft’s City Club Remarks," 23 October 69, Container 5, Folder 68, CBS Papers.

320 McDonald’s restaurants, (2) cheating on police exams, (3) the horrible rise in crime, and (4) giving "blood" money to killer Ahmed Evans. In attacking Perk the Stokes team chose to criticize his close relationship with Robert Hughes and Saul Stillman, wealthy suburbanites and Co-leaders of the local GOP. Throughout the campaign Stokes constantly stressed to voters that if Perk were elected, then Cleveland would have a "three-headed" mayor, with two of the heads living in the suburbs. In essence Stokes was suggesting that Perk was a bossed candidate, a puppet, who would serve as a phantom mayor. "The Perk campaign is a well calculated, well financed movement to get control of City Hall and to carry out the personal desires of two very ambitious men for their own self-aggrandizement," declared Stokes. He contended that Hughes wanted to be a GOP power broker, while Stillman had his eyes on a federal judgeship, with Perk somehow being the "key" to the lifetime post. Stokes also linked Perk to the national GOP, in particular the Nixon administration, telling voters that Perk wanted to be a little Nixon. At a press conference Stokes remarked that a Perk administration would create drastic unemployment, as Nixon had done when he slashed Model City funds. To further emphasize Perk's relationship with the wealth-oriented GOP, Stokes also noted that Republicans had opposed a minimum-wage law, while forcing reductions in Medicare, Medicaid, and education. As the campaign entered its final week Stokes challenged Perk to a debate, which Perk declined.'**^ In the waning days before the election, the Stokes team went into high gear mobilizing votes on both sides of the Cuyahoga. Stokes held three major rallies on the West side and a host of campaign events on the black East side. Included in the East side activities was a spectacular parade, a "Women's Walk for Stokes," a "Get Out the Vote

'**9 Plain Dealer, 22 October 69, 23 October 69, 28 October 69, 1 November 69; Cleveland Press, 3 November 69; "Campaign Strategy."

321 Rally" with Jesse Jackson, and a rally at Shiloh Baptist Church. Lastly, on the eve of the election a city-wide "Turn on the Lights for Stokes" campaign was held.'^^o On November 4th, 1969, Stokes won reelection by narrowly defeating Perk by 3752 votes, out of a total turnout of 238,843. Still, the margin of victory was double the amount of his 1967 election over Seth Taft. The key to Stokes' victory lay in his surprisingly good showing on the West side. In eight of the eleven West side wards Stokes increased his support from 1967, but on the black East side tallies for Stokes were down, primarily because the emotional campaign of 1967 could not be reproduced. In giving his victory speech Stokes thanked all of his supporters. "It was a united effort by a unified party and those folks who supported me in my 1967 victory came out again to back up their judgment...he (Perk) gave me a hard, tough fight and winning was not easy. It took everything we had to beat them." VI The Stokes victory was remarkable when one considers the election day shenanigans of the Cleveland Police Department. The rank-and-file of the CPD felt that election day signaled an opportunity to remove Stokes from office. Still fuming from the departmental reorganization, the Glenville riot, and the testing scandal, white officers decided to undertake a campaign to prevent blacks from voting. On the day of the general election several hundred armed off-duty policemen appeared at East side polls acting as so- called "challengers," and "wimesses," but in reality they were acting as intimidators. Not only were the CPD on-site, some were going into the actual voting both to challenge black voters. Several of Stokes' cabinet members traveled to the sites once they got word of the illegal activity, and all were surprised at what they witnessed. Sidney Spector, Stokes' executive assistant, spent the entire day with Police Chief Gerity canvassing polling places.

Call and Post, 1 November 69. Cleveland Press, 5 November 69, 6 November 69.

322 Their first stop was at the Perk headquarters, where Spector observed one officer dispatching fellow patrolmen to East side polling places to intimidate black voters. Although Chief Gerity witnessed this activity he did nothing. He later told Spector that he was only making sure that the officers were not interfering with the "actual" voting process. Sgt. Barrett, one of Stokes' security men, also observed the intimidation. "I talked to the polling officials, the presiding judge and the other ladies who were there, and they were frightened, just totally intimidated. They said that these policemen had been interrogating the citizens who came in to vote and just brow beat them. And they were handling the books, the polling books, which is against the law...." Several women at this polling precinct informed Barrett that when a polling inspector arrived they informed him of the intimidation and he responded that the CPD was there for the sole purpose of defeating Stokes, and that he wasn’t interested in polling violations. Barrett was also informed that several known members of the black underworld were warned by officers that if they voted they would be taken to jail.^^^

The carefully planned operation was sponsored by the "Committee of the Concerned," under the direction of Police Lt. Richard Vina. It was later discovered that Chief Gerity was informed of the entire plan in advance and he had given the operation his stamp of approval, with the hopes of having a secure position in the department in case of a Stokes defeat. The police presence had a severe effect upon black voter turnout. While turnout was averaging about 88% in black wards in the morning hours, turnout dipped to 40-50% in the late afternoon when word circulated that policemen were in polling places

Call and Post, 25 October 69; Interview with Arnold Pinkney by Dick Murway, CBS Papers, Container 7, Folder 105, Pp. 1-25; Carl B. Stokes to Police Chief Gerity, 4 November 69, CBS Papers, Container 81, Folder 1577; "Memo from the Mayor's office concerning illegal activity by the police, 5 November 69, CBS Papers, Container 81, Folder 1577. Interview with Sidney Spector by Dick Murway, CBS Papers, Container 7, Folder 105, pp. 1-12; Interview with Officer Barrett by Dick Murway, CBS Papers, Container 6, Folder 97, pp. 25-29; Clarence James Interview by author, 26 February 98.

323 with guns. As Arnold Pinkney stated, "you have to live in the ghetto to understand the effect of anybody saying there is a policeman in any place with a gun on him."'^®^ Call and Post editor W.O. Walker was disappointed at the election day actions by the CPD. But instead of lashing out at the CPD, he instead took aim at Stokes for failing to bring the CPD under civilian control. He told Call and Post readers that Stokes’ failure in the area of police reform was his inability "to take a real hard line to establish civilian control...To the contrary Stokes has literally bent over backward to restore both the efficiency and moral of the law and fire enforcement arm of city government." Walker listed several pro-police moves taken by Stokes, such as his support of a salary increase that would make the CPD the highest paid police in the state, his purchase of new patrol cars, a new police communication system, and his establishment of a tuition reimbursement program for police. Yet, in spite of Stokes' support for these measures, the police were still opposed to his leadership, and Walker wanted to know why. "Just what exactly is the real reason you are adamantly contributing to an uncivil atmosphere in which mobsters, muggers, and vice crooks feel free to fleece the inhabitants of the black community, secure in the knowledge that the 'law' is too busy resisting to do much about it."'^^'*

VII Stokes interpreted his election as a sign that the citizens of Cleveland were in touch with the focus of his administration, in particular, his desire to help the poor, while simultaneously improving the city's business and economic climate. But since city council had blocked his main program, the Lee-Seville housing proposal, Stokes began plotting to oust Stanton from the presidency. Stokes calculated that if one of his supporters were leading city council, then his program could advance without interference. Stokes' plan

Barrett Interview; Call and Post, 15 November 69; Pinkney Interview; James Interview by author. Call and Post, 15 Novem ber 69.

324 was to remove Stanton and place Councilman Edward Kataiinas, former law-and-order advocate, in the president's seat. Interestingly enough, back in 1968 Kataiinas had led the post-Glenville hysteria. But now, he and Stokes had grown close, largely because Stokes had supported his re-election in his predominantly black East side ward. Of the thirty-three council seats, twenty-seven were held by Democrats. It was Stokes' hope to get the support of all nine black councilpersons and the support of five white moderates, then go after GOP votes.'^^^ When word of the Mayor's plans became known Stanton supporters began to cry that a Stokes-picked council president would destroy local government. Leading the charge were Councilmen Richard Harmody and Anthony Garofoh, both of whom warned that if Stokes was successful in ousting Stanton "it would undermine the checks and balances of city government." Harmody labeled Stokes' efforts improper, calling them an "attempt to become more powerful at the expense of breaching the checks and balances system." Garofoli argued that if Stokes were able to pick the president of city council "it would destroy the separation and independent power of council," which he felt would "stifle vigorous debate and prevent legislative judgment of issues on their merits." Harmody closed the dual diatribe by stating that Stokes' interference would be just as wrong if the council president tried to dictate the mayor's cabinet appointments.'*^^ As Stokes v/as maneuvering behind the scenes he realized the fight to unseat Stanton would be an uphill battle. Moreover, when the media got word of Stokes' plans he publicly had to pledge a "hands-off policy in the presidency fight, but privately he was still trying to oust Stanton. However, Stokes' efforts were thwarted when Samuel Gerber, Cuyahoga County Democratic Chair, called an organizational caucus of council's twenty- seven Democrats. In an organizational caucus the presidency of council could be

Cleveland Press, 12 November 69. '*96 Ibid.

325 determined at the meeting since the Democrats were in the majority. The most important reason, however, for Gerber calling the meeting was that he could prevent the pro-Stokes councilmen from boycotting the regular caucus which would open up the election of president on the floor of council where the six republican votes could be the deciding factor.'*^?

All hopes to remove Stanton were erased when five of the black councilmen lined up with Stanton and the anti-Stokes Irish bloc in council. Kataiinas only received support from Councilmembers Carrie Cain, Carr, Forbes, and newly elected thirteenth ward Councilman Robert McCall, while Bell, Gilliam, Jackson, Thompson, and neophyte councilman William Franklin chose to cast their vote with Stanton. Not only did they reelect Stanton, but they also chose to replace majority leader Carr, with long-time Stokes critic Lawrence Duggan. They also retained the fair-housing foe Mercedes Comer as Clerk of Council. With Stanton retaining his power with the assistance of five black councilmen, Stokes knew that the Council President would flex his power, especially now that Stokes had tried to remove him. In an apparent attempt to avoid a showdown with Stanton, Stokes publicly congratulated the councU president on his caucus victory, a symbolic indication that he was ready to work "with council in the overall improvement and betterment of Cleveland as a city." Still, the Stanton victory was a setback for Stokes. He took a calculated risk and lost, setting the stage for a two-year battle.'*^* In spite of Stanton's presence as council president, Stokes received a monumental legislative victory when city council passed an "equal opportunity law." Labeled, "the most sweeping in the country " by its supporters, the law required a clause in all city contracts stating that the contractor "will not discriminate against any employee or applicant for employment because of race, religion, color, sex, or national origin." The law also

^*97 Ibid. Call and Post, 29 November 69.

326 banned discrimination in promoting and training, and it also held employers responsible for enforcing the law with subcontractors. Employers seeking work with the city were also required to "permit access to books, records, and accounts" by the city compliance officer. Failure to abide by the law would result in cancellation of the contract, withholding of payments, and the right of the city to refuse all bids. The chief advocate of the bill was Community Relations Board Director Bertram Gardner, who actually prevented the bill from being presented to council during Stokes' first term because of his accommodationist attitude. According to City Law Director Clarence James, shortly after Stokes' first inauguration he (James) went to work on drafting an EEO ordinance. "He (Gardner) did not think Cleveland was ready for it," stated James. Thus, the legislation was delayed two years, but when it was passed into law it represented Stokes' first institutionalized piece of legislation. What surprised many observers was Stanton's willingness to support the bill. However, it was later learned that in exchange for Stanton's support of the employment measure Stokes went along with a Stanton-desired zoning change.^^^ VIII Still high on Stokes' political agenda was police reform. When Stokes began his second term a police shake-up was inevitable. In late November and December 1969, community activists began demanding the firing of Police Chief Patrick Gerity for the rampant crime that went unchecked and for Gerity's role in the election day episode. In a lengthy manifesto sent to Stokes, Operation Black Unity made a strong claim for Gerity's removal. OBU prefaced its remarks by reminding its readers that the black community was in favor of strong law enforcement by virtue of their support for increased pay for fire and police persoimel. However, in return for this support, "the firefighters and policemen have

Cole Interview; James Interview; Call and Post, 6 December 69, 20 December 69; City of Cleveland, Equal Employment Opportunity Program, Container 88, Folder 1744, CBS Papers.

327 shown contempt for the black community and the administration at city hall in a way that can only be interpreted as an adamant rejection of a black mayor as their boss." OBU claimed Gerity and the FOP were "attempting to man the police department as a political force in the community" by creating an elite "SS Guard." In closing, OBU regarded the conduct of Gerity as "blatant insubordination to proper authority."^°°

Largely because of this groimdswell of sentiment for Gerity's removal, Stokes informed his Police Chief that if "drastic improvements" were not forthcoming, then he would take "whatever action is necessary," implying that he would remove him. In making the statement Stokes noted that "Every request we've got, we've come to you and they were granted...There is no conceivable way that a city with more police in 1969 than in 1968 should have a 100% Increase in crime." In response to Stokes' remarks, Gerity announced several reforms, including, fast-tracking two-hundred police cadets through the academy, an anti-crime drive which canceled all "off days" for Captains and other administrative personnel, eliminating non-essential police services, and shifting patrol car assignments to concentrate on high crime areas. Although Stokes probably appreciated these plans, it was too late. By all accounts Stokes had already made the decision to replace him.^^* Stokes' opportunity for a change at the top came when Safety Director Joseph McManamon resigned due to health reasons in December 1969. Now that Stokes needed to find a safety director he decided to find a new chief as well. When the subject of a replacement was mentioned, the name of soon to be retired Lt. General Benjamin Davis, Jr., emerged. Stokes considered the possibilities; "A military man! A general! Black or not the people would have to respect him. And, being black, he would have to be the kind of

^O^Arthur LeMon to Stokes, "Operation Black Unity wants Gerity Fired," 9 December 69, Container 89, Folder 1752, CBS Papers. 5b* Call and Post, 20 December 69, 31 January 70; Cleveland Press, 16 December 69.

328 man who would agree with what I wanted to do," wrote Stokes in his memoirs. Davis' impressive military background was important because Stokes believed that white police officers would have to respect him. Making Davis even more attractive was the fact that he was bom and raised on the East side of Cleveland, thus he knew the historic relationship between the CPD and the black community. After several phone conversations Stokes went to Tampa to visit the General. He told Davis the resistance he was receiving from the police, to which Davis responded: "Had a situation like that in the army, knew how to handle it. Don't worry. Glad to come. We'll take care of it, Mr. Mayor. Great admirer of yours. Delighted to handle this for you. I understand it. Something has to be done we will do it." Davis agreed to be in Cleveland on January 31,1970 the date his Army retirement became effective. In making the appointment, Stokes stated that he expected David to restore "discipline" and "military-like" operation to the CPD. "The operation of vital functions of law enforcement must not be on the basis of personalities, our primary concern is that this city have maximum protection from law enforcement forces," declared Stokes. "He is a doer, not a talker; he honestly wants to do something to curb the crime rate in Cleveland, not sit around and discuss it, as many people do." When word of Davis' appointment reached the black community there was considerable optimism, with many residents feeling that Davis was the perfect man to reform the CPD. To celebrate his arrival as the city's first black safety director, thirteen hundred people packed the grand ballroom of the Statler Hilton Hotel for a welcoming luncheon sponsored by the Greater Cleveland Growth Association. At the ceremony Stokes pledged his complete support, "no one is going to be able to go around or in anyway subvert the primary and individual authority of General Davis. " Upon accepting the office, Davis gave brief, but promising remarks: "This is the greatest job that I could have chosen anywhere in the world...The thing that gave me the challenge and desire to come here was the obvious philosophy of Mayor Stokes to be the mayor of the best city in the world... and to produce the best living

329 conditions that all of you will be proud of."^®^ Stokes next turned his attention to finding a new police chief. His first choice to lead the forces was thirty-seven year old James Ahi, Chief of Police in New Haven. Ahi agreed to come to Cleveland to discuss the position, but he insisted that he did not want the media notified about his candidacy. However, after their meeting, a Press reporter identified him and by the next morning his picture was on the front page of the paper. As a result, Ahi asked Stokes to remove his name from consideration. This was clearly the man Stokes wanted but media exposure negated any possibility of him coming. "A lousy newspaper article and we lost the chance of getting the best police chief in the country, " Stokes remarked.5°3 As the search for a chief intensified, William EUenburg, police chief and safety director of Grosse Pointe, Michigan, emerged as the leading candidate for the job based largely upon the recommendation of Jerome Cavanaugh, mayor of Detroit. A former officer in the Detroit Police Department, EUenburg had received considerable praise for his police work. With Davis' approval EUenburg became Stokes' third police chief. However, when word of Ellenburg's appointment became public, the Detroit media began to leak stories about alleged misconduct by EUenburg whUe in the Detroit Police Department. A convicted felon had charged that EUenburg and two other Detroit policemen had been paid to protect an abortion clinic. The Cleveland media had a field day with the allegations. "EUenburg accepted payoffs Detroit Lawyer says," read the headline in the Plain Dealer. The story went on to suggest supposed ties between EUenburg and the Mafia. Other media outlets in Cleveland also got word of the story, but refused to print it because they felt the charges were unsubstantiated and the source uncredible.^O'*

Stokes, Prom ises, p. 182; Cleveland Press, 9 January 70. Call and Post, 24 January 70, 31 January 70, 7 February 70; Stokes, "Promises," p. 181, 183. Cleveland Press, 2 February 70, 3 February 70; Plain Dealer, 3 February 70.

330 Shortly after the story appeared Stokes attempted to control the negative publicity by staging a live press conference. He sought to protect himself by stating that he had done a thorough background check, and that the allegations "shocked" him. "We talked with police officers who had worked with him. We discussed his qualification with as many and as wide a range of persons as possible. We sought the advice of Detroit businessmen and civic leaders, all the people with whom we spoke praised Mr. EUenburg as a fine policeman and a good citizen." But nonetheless, Stokes did accept fuU responsibility: "as mayor of the city I am immediately responsible for the appointments...I am not going to ftre him on the basis of a story that for the moment at least has no more substantiation than one dope addict's aUegation and is more than six years old." While Stokes told reporters and citizens that he conducted a thorough background check, officials from the FBI, 1RS, the Michigan State Police, and the Michigan Attorney General's office contended that Stokes failed to contact them about EUenburg's background. In explaining why the administration faded to contact these agencies, one aide remark, "we did not feel that we would have learned anything we did not find out from those we did check with." The next day Stokes went to Detroit to conduct his own investigation. As he exited the plane in Detroit he was mobbed by reporters who wanted to know why he was investing so much time into the accusations. "The problem of a police chief is the biggest problem I have as mayor...I picked my man and I am responsible for picking him...Certain charges have been levied against him and I have decided to come to Detroit, to the source, and investigate these charges...no one could investigate them as I can...and when I am through, I will go to the people of Cleveland and report what I have found."^®^

505 WJBK TV2 (Editorial), 4 February 70, Container 81, Folder 1578, CBS Papers; Stokes Press release re: EUenburg, Container 82, Folder 1612, CBS Papers; Cleveland Press, 2 February 70, 3 February 70; Plain Dealer, 3 February 70; Stokes, "Promises," p. 187.

331 EUenburg emphaticaUy denied aU of the aUegations. At a news conference he informed reporters that he would not resign: "If given a chance, a fair chance by aU facets of the society of the city of Cleveland, I can do the job here. If I am going to be constantly picked at and referred to, et cetera, its going to be difficult." Upon arriving back in Cleveland on the night of February 3rd, Stokes met with his advisors and EUenburg to discuss the situation. By now Stokes was under pressure to fire him although the aUegations were unfounded. However, he wanted to fight to avoid another pubUc relations disaster. But EUenburg decided he would resign. "I could have gone anywhere in the United States," EUenburg stated, "and this story never would have broken. But you happen to be a black mayor and you appointed me. I have known about this story for the longest time, it never meant a damn thing to anybody, but I don't think you can survive with me here." The next day, just ten days after being swom-in, EUenburg announced his resignation. "I came here because I believed I could help build the finest department in the country. The events of the past few days have convinced me that it wiU be extremely difficult for me to reach that goal under the cloud created by the charges now circulating. I wish to repeat that I categoricaUy deny the aUegations made against me. I realize however, that these charges...until cleared...would serious impair my effectiveness."506 In accepting EUenburg's resignation Stokes reiterated that he did not ask EUenburg to resign. He later called the aUegations against EUenburg "unproven." While in Detroit, Stokes "was unable to find one single, identifiable shred of evidence against Mr. EUenburg. I defend the principle that he is innocent untU proven guilty. I won't operate government on trial by newspapers." Immediately after accepting the resignation Stokes named Cleveland PoUce Inspector Lewis Coffey his fourth police chief in twenty-eight

Stokes, "Promises," p. 188;Plain Dealer 3 March 70; Cleveland Press, 3 March 70; "Statement on Ellenburg's resignation. Container 81, Folder 1578, CBS Papers.

332 months. The EUenburg controversy dashed aU hopes Stokes had of having a second term free of scandal and embarrassment. Although the charges were never proven, many of Stokes' critics and supporters were disappointed at the apparent lax background checking. In addition, many were growing tired at Stokes' administrative blunders. Thomas Vail, editor and publisher of the Plain Dealer, summed up much of the city's opinion when he wrote: "time is running out, the people of Cleveland wiU not stand for another fiasco in public safety." Unknown to Stokes, this would be just the first episode of a series of disappointments that Stokes would face in his second term.^°^ IX Stokes' first confrontation with City Council came in early Spring 1970 when the Stanton clique threatened to cut the budget of the Community Relations Board out of animosity toward board member Baxter Hill. HiU was not the typical board member, he was street-oriented, prone to militance, and did not care for whites. But he was very critical to the Stokes administration because he often served as a liaison between ghetto- youth and the administration. Newly appointed CRB director Rev. Arthur LeMon considered HiU a valuable asset to the board as weU, but not everyone shared the opinions of Stokes and LeMon, in particular. Councilman Leo Jackson. Jackson disliked HiU both for his nationalist doctrine, and his long-time criticism of Jackson's race neutral posture. In public, HiU often caUed Jackson an "uncle-tom," and a "white-nigger," for his refusal to support Stokes. Although Jackson had at one time been outspoken against racism and the status quo, beginning in the mid-1960s however, he often alUgned himself with the foes of black progress. Councilman Jackson chose to challenge HiU's status on the CRB after learning that Stokes and LeMon sent HiU to New Jersey to attend a black nationaUst raUy, because they

5 0 7 "Ellenburg's resignation;" Tim e, 16 February 70; Call and Post, 7 February 70.

333 learned that it was to be used for the purpose of planning civil unrest in several midwest cities, including Cleveland, and they wanted inside information. Jackson however, could not envision why a CRB member would be sent to a nationalist meeting on city funds. When Jackson failed to get Hill removed over the conference, he began to question Hill's status on the CRB on technical grounds, mainly the fact that Hill didn't have the requisite four-year degree. Jackson's criticism met a firm rebuff from Hill supporters. "Hill speaks the language of the people who live in the ghetto...He is able to translate their needs and demands into terms legislators and administrators can understand. There is no degree for that," said Ward Thirteen Councilman Robert McCall. McCall went on to say that "the biggest problem in the black community is the lack of adequate communication...they listen to Hill." Councilman Paul Haggard agreed, "they have respect for him." Stokes echoed these sentiments, stating that if Hill were removed from the CRB, he would just have to create another position for him: "He is able to reach the alienated...that makes him a very valuable man. I stand absolutely behind him. If he doesn't meet Civil Service requirements for a permanent appointment to his present position, another job classification may have to be created for him." Jackson's strategy was a particular shrewd tactic because according to the city charter city council could not interfere with mayoral appointments. Thus, Jackson was unable to request Hill's removal on any other grounds. Subsequently, Jackson decided to use his influence with the Stanton clique to exert financial pressure on the CRB. To avoid a drastic reduction in the budget of the CRB, and to appease his critics, Stokes transferred Hill from his official position on the CRB to a position that did not carry the strict educational requirements. However, Hill still fulfilled his role as the voice of the administration in the ghetto. The two year battle by Jackson to get Hill removed illustrated the bias of the black middle-class toward the black nationalist community. Throughout his tenure Stokes reached out to the alienated nationalists by giving them influence within the administration. Jackson's inability to see beyond his own personal issues with Hill was

334 not surprising. Failing to understand Hill's importance was just another illustration of how Jackson had lost touch with the masses in his ward, preferring to curry favor with the anti- Stokes forces in city council.^®* X As Stokes continued to face political and racial obstacles in his attempts to redevelop the city and make its institutions more accountable to the black community, he began to realize the need to institutionalize his power so that when he left the political scene the black community would still be in control of the levers of power. With this in mind, in early 1970 Stokes and several of his political allies, including his brother Congressmen Louis Stokes, State officials Morris Jackson, Dee Thompson, and black councilpersons such as James Bell, Carrie Cain, Charlie Carr, George Forbes, William Franklin, Robert McCall, and Clarence Thompson, established the Twenty-First District Caucus "to deal with problems of concern to the black community." After the first two meetings approximately four-hundred fifty people were active. The group immediately began to think of what they could demand from the Cuyahoga County Democratic Party, which had long taken the black vote for granted, and which in recent history had given Stokes only moderate support. The infant organization outlined its demands: (I) 20% membership on the executive committee, (2) a black appointee to deputy director of the elections board, (3) another black appointee to the "hierarchy level of the county Democratic party, in position of either chairman, secretary, treasurer, or vice-chairman." Unless these demands were granted, they warned, they would leave the party en masse. "If we cannot have a voice in the Democratic Party, maybe it is time the black people determined they do not belong to either party. Maybe it is time we traded off with both political parties." When the Caucus first presented these demands they were told that the county organization would allow them

Call and Post, 25 April 70, 2 May 70, 16 May 70; Nona Cole Interview; LeMon to Stokes, re: Baxter Hill, 25 May 70, Container 88, Folder 1748, CBS Papers.

335 to name a black secretary. The caucus then selected Councilman George Forbes for the position, but his nomination was blocked when party leaders realized that they secretary succeeds the chairman, in case of death, illness, or resignation. In response to Forbes' rejection, the party then decided to create three vice chairmanships, with the first vice- chairman second in succession. Although the caucus objected to this maneuver, they decided that fighting it would be a losing battle. But instead of letting the caucus make the appointment, the county leaders said, "we'll pick the black person."^°^ The county leadership nominated Arnold Pinkney and Louis Stokes to the position, which they both flatly denied. As a substitute the Caucus nominated Forbes once again. "The Twenty-First District Caucus has unanimously endorsed George Forbes as its nominee for vice chairman of the central and executive committees. We will not accept any other nominee. " In spite of the threat, Forbes' candidacy was flatly denied in a move engineered by Stanton, who in turn nominated Ken Clement, former Stokes campaign director. When it was learned that Clement was the candidate and that Forbes had been rejected, the Caucus decided to boycott the upcoming Democratic Party Convention. In addition, Stokes publicly refused to support the candidacy of Probate Judge Joseph Bartunek as county chair, largely because Bartunek refused to accept the caucus request that Forbes be given a vice-chairmanship. In explaining the Caucus' decision to boycott and his rationale for not supporting Bartunek, Stokes remarked: "my concern is to see to it that the party comes out truly representative, reflecting the minority ethnic groups, and that young people have a clear voice in the need for reform." Once Stokes got word of Clement's nomination, he remarked, "they have put up a slate representing their wishes and not the desires of others." When the slate was officially elected, the Caucus announced that

Pinkney Interview; Statement by Arnold Pinkney, 20 May 70, Container 10 , Folder 162, CBS Papers; Cleveland Press, 12 February 70; Plain Dealer, 12 May 70.

336 they were leaving the county organization, and forming their own. "We will evaluate candidates for ourselves and select the ones we want and reject the ones we do not want," said Arnold Pinkney. Likewise, stated Stokes, "we will be free agents, and non-partisan, supporting candidates of either party.lo

Stokes was particularly upset over the tactics of the county organization because his administration had done much for the Democratic party nationally. By enlisting and receiving the support of the national Democrats throughout his mayoral career, Stokes inspired African-Americans throughout the county once again to place their faith in the party. Stokes labeled the actions of the county Democrats an "affront" to him. He then went on to remark that it was insulting that he, the mayor, was not consulted about the selection of party leaders. "So far as I am concerned nobody asked me and I was not included in the original talks that were held to make up the structure adopted by the convention." Stokes then wondered why they would expect him to continue to support the party. "They can't exclude the mayor of the largest city firom their talks in the development of the party, then expect him to ratify their talks and actions." Days later Stokes announced that he would not support any Democratic organizational activity, that he was declining a position on the new Democratic County Executive Committee, and withdrawing his seat from the overall Executive Committee. Bartunek tried to persuade Stokes not to abandon the party, but Stokes v/ould not budge. At a press conference after a meeting between the two, Stokes argued that the newly-formed executive committee structure did not adequately represent black interests, largely because four or five seats were held by suburban whites. In response to observations that Clement held one of the positions, Stokes replied that since Clement was not a member of the Caucus his appointment meant nothing. Stokes also told the audience that his displeasure was not geared toward Bartunek, but to Stanton, who

5*0 Cleveland Press, 16 May 70, 18 May 70; Plain Dealer, 17 May 70; Pinkney Interview; Call and Post, 23 May 70; Stokes, "Promises," p. 242.

337 engineered the chicanery. Thus Stokes stated, "all this means is that I will not take any role in the Democratic party. Joe Bartunek and I can talk any time. I am still a Democrat." At a Caucus meeting attended by six-hundred people, vice-chair Pinkney echoed Stokes' comments: "We are not out of the Democratic party, we are temporarily out of the county Democratic party." At this meeting a formal resolution was passed withdrawing the Caucus from the party organization, and the Caucus also voted not to have any contact with the county organization or any of its officials until after the upcoming November election. In a move that demonstrated "that what the Caucus is all about is not just rhetoric, " they also voted to establish their own political scanning committee, to conduct a voter registration and education campaign, and to open a permanent caucus office.^ • i Once organizational matters were complete the Caucus handed down other guidelines. Not only would they abstain from democratic organizational activities until after the November elections, and sponsor their own candidates, they also harmed all Caucus members who held elected positions from cooperating with the county Democrats. In spite of several attempts by Bartunek to heal the breach, the Twenty-First District Caucus chose to remain independent, thus launching the first all-black independent political organization in the nation's history. And with the mayor in charge of the Caucus they were in possession of considerable influence. Although the county Democrats would not concede to the demands of the city's black voters, Stokes was criticized in the local press for leading the Caucus out of the county organization. When the Caucus armounced its plans to leave the party a Cleveland Press editorial labeled it a "sorry day" for the Democratic spirit and for partisan politics. The writer believed that "such separatism " would be a "divisive, destructive, force in the community." Although the writer agreed that the Caucus had a right to be upset about the

^ * * Call and Post, 23 May 70; Cleveland Press, 20 May 70, 26 May 70; Plain Dealer, 23 May 70.

338 convention proceedings, "this did not justify breaking away from the party. Losing one battle is poor reason to pick up one’s marbles and go off and play a separate game, especially to the extent of dividing the party along racial lines." It is ironic that white Democrats did not support the Caucus. The fear was that the Caucus would become a major force on the local political scene, causing whites to split their votes, enabling a unified black community to slide into office. Although the feud was largely between the black political elite and the county structure, an underlying contest was between Stokes and Stanton, whose power struggle had carried over into a battle for local party control, setting the stage for an even more hostile mayor-city council relationship.si2 XI Stanton's opportunity to flex his muscle in city council came in May 1970 when he deliberately held up all legislation in council over his disagreement with CMHA public housing plans on the West side. In late 1969 Cuyahoga Metropolitan Housing Authority Director Irving Kriegsfeld proceeded with plans to build two low-income units on the West side, one for the elderly, in Stanton's ward, and one for families, in Ward 9. Unlike the Lee-Seville housing project, these developments did not need the approval of city council because all of the necessary infrastructural improvements were already in place. In response to the plans, white working-class residents in the area rose up in opposition to the project. They staged protests at city hall and at the construction sites, causing crews to halt work on several occasions. Despite the fact that one of the units was for the elderly, Stanton and Councilman Richard Harmody denigrated the project by shouting common code phrases such as, "lowered property values," "insufficient sewer, recreational, and educational facilities," and "at the expense of tax paying residents." However, in spite of their protest, CMHA continued with its construction plans. The opposition to the two

Cleveland Press, 19 May 70, 25 May 70, 28 May 70; Plain Dealer, 26 May 70, 28 May 70, 29 May 70; Call and Post, 30 May 70.

339 projects. Green Valley and Lorain Square, launched Stokes’ second major battle for scattered-site housing and he was growing frustrated. "There's probably no city in America that has fought against public housing for the poor and elderly so desperately as has Cleveland...! have done everything I can to get housing for this city, but there are elements in Cleveland that will stop at nothing to thwart our efforts." Stokes realized that the West siders did not want the poor, especially the black poor, in their community. "When people say they don't mind low-cost housing for the elderly but are opposed to housing for these families,...these families are black families." As he battled for the housing units Stokes failed to understand why people who had once been poor refused to help out the less fortunate. But nevertheless, he pledged to keep fighting for housing for the working-poor. "One bad thing about people is they forget the times when they were poor and didn't have much," he said, "I am determined to give every person I touch a chance to have the things I didn't have. That's why I am going to continue to fight the people in this city who are opposed to low-incomeh o u s i n g . *3

As a counter move to Stokes' persistence in having the units constructed City Council President Stanton brought the entire legislative process to a halt. Stanton felt that Stokes' desire to build public housing over the objections of area homeowners was illustrative of the breakdown in communication between city council and the mayor's office. "Until there is an understanding, department by department, on council's complaints and until the administration puts forth a program agreed to by council, the legislative branch is out of business. " Stanton was also upset that Stokes directed all of council's inquiries to Henry Matt, Stokes' council liaison. Stanton supporters claimed that their action was triggered by ± e reluctance of the administration to give them honest answers to their questions. Stokes supporters complained that these questions were not

Cleveland Plain Dealer, 5 July 70, 13 July 70.

340 aimed at acquiring pertinent information, but rather "to vilify the mayor." The mayor responded angrily to Stanton's threat: "if one man can bring the whole legislative process to a halt, the whole city is in poor condition. He is hurting all the citizens of the entire city." Days later, Stokes announced that his cabinet members would not take part in any political caucus, a move that was supported by eight pro-Stokes councilpersons. The rebel caucus (as they were referred to in the local press) posed a threat to Stanton's control over the reorganization of the next legislative session. Since Stanton was a virtual lock to win his congressional race he was attempting to hand pick a successor. Stanton carried out his threat at the next council session of June 15th by adjourning the session twelve minutes into the meeting. Other than jamming through several minor resolutions the session ended without any significant legislative activity. What made this session so vital was that several important legislative measures were stranded, such as legislation pertaining to housing, recreation, urban renewal, water pollution, gun-control, and safety. In response to Stanton's move, Stokes followed with a series of letters pointing out the more than two hundred-thirty pieces of legislation, held up by Stanton. Stokes contended that the neglected bills were "necessary for the life of our city, and the needs of human beings young and old.''^*'^ Under pressure from the white business establishment Stanton agreed to lift the ban on legislative activity. At the second to last council session of the year Stanton stumped for an emergency measure that would require council approval for any CMHA sponsored public housing project. Once the bill was defeated however, Stanton quickly adjourned the meeting, with vital pieces of legislation still hanging in the balance. The legislative logjam

Plain Dealer, 12 June 70; 13 June 70; Cleveland Press, 13 June 70, 16 June 70; Call and Post, 13 June 70, 20 June 70; Stokes Press Release re: Stanton, 16 June 70, Container 58, Folder 1091, CBS Papers; Stokes to Stanton, 17 June 70, Container 58, Folder 1091, CBS Papers. Black and White Clergy to Stanton, 20 June 70, Container 58, Folder 1091.

341 was broken at the last council session of the year when Stanton chaired a four-hour marathon session that saw over two-hundred pieces of legislation passed or either heard for the first time. Included were programs for street and sewer repair, recreational facilities, housing, public safety, and airport expansion. But in the midst of this active council session neither Stanton nor Stokes got their pet legislation passed. Stanton was unable to secure the votes for a desired zoning change to block public housing in his ward, and Stokes was not able to secure passage of a cooperation agreement between city council and CMHA, authorizing the housing authority to build an additional 3700 units. Without the agreement CMHA lacked authority for any new construction beyond that which was already proposed. But more importantly, if council did not pass the legislation then HUD would refuse to certify the city's workable program, a document necessary for obtaining most federal funds. Stokes informed council that unless they passed the measure, the city was in danger of losing $72 million in federal funds. Councilman Richard Hanhody responded, "If we lose $72 million, well, let's lose it." Days later HUD announced that they were cutting off all federal funds for Cleveland's Urban Renewal, Model Cities, Demolition, and Neighborhood Development programs.^ * 5 The formation of the Caucus and the legislative shutdown were a classic illustration of the dual nexus of race and politics. Stokes' astute decision to institutionalize his power and set up independently outside of the country organization was interpreted widely as a sign that Stokes was trying to control inner-city politics. By exercising his power as council president to block Stokes' legislative plans, James Stanton was just continuing a long history of racial opposition to Stokes and the needs of the black electorate. With

5*5 Call and Post, 4 July 70; Cleveland Press, 17 June 70, 1 July 70; 8 July 70; Plain Dealer. 17 June 70, 9 July 60, 11 July 70. Welfare Federation to James Stanton, 17 July 70, Container 29, Folder 530, CBS Papers.

342 council now in recess, Stokes would face yet another controversy in the troublesome world of law enforcement. XII Although initially well received by the black community all optimism about Davis' arrival in the black community quickly vanished when he immediately distanced himself from Stokes and the black community. Thomas Monahan, who worked in the Safety Director's department throughout Stokes' tenure, recalls that Davis was pro-police and anti-community from the start. Monahan claimed that when he first met the General he constantly talked about the Glenville shootout, and more specifically, about why the police were without machine guns, and other hi-powered weapons. When Monahan attempted to explain to General Davis that Stokes did not want the police to carry that type of equipment, Davis stated, "what the police want they will get." In Monahan's eyes Davis wanted "to be a good guy with the troops, "public be damned." Monahan's perception was correct because many of Davis' administrative decisions would favor police personnel at the expense of the black community. Shortly after taking office Davis "praised" the Special Weapons and Tactical Unit for assaulting a group of black college students participating in a demonstration at Cuyahoga Community College. In April, he failed to investigate the near beating death of an African exchange student in Little Italy. Later that month he placed an order for 30,000 "dum-dum" bullets for the city safety forces. These bullets exploded on impact. Later that Spring it was discovered that Davis had given CPD personnel permission to carry their own special weapons. His rationale: "since they are going to carry them anyway, why don't we show our appreciation." In another anti-community decision, Davis balked at the idea of having name tags sewn on uniforms. This request came from the black community in response to the frequent habit of officers removing their badges prior to engaging in misconduct. Lastly, Davis fired veteran black officer Frank Moss just twenty-three days before his retirement over unsubstantiated charges of filing a

343 false police report. The black community interpreted all of these actions as anti-black and many came to the conclusion that he was an accomodationist.^ • ^ Stokes accepted Davis' presence because Davis helped him recapture some of his white support. But black Clevelanders had little tolerance for the General. They began to demand his firing in the aftermath of a police raid on local black panther headquarters. On the afternoon of June 29th approximately fifty members of the SWAT team surrounded Panther headquarters to serve warrants and check for weapons. According to police records, members of the unit were greeted by gunfire as they forced their way into the residence. A shootout ensued that left one policeman and one panther injured. Days later three panthers were charged with attempted murder. However, Panther members and supporters gave a different version of the incident. They argued that the police fired first without provocation. The raid was apparently well planned because on three previous occasions the SWAT team pointed guns at the Panther office, and on a separate occasion a fire truck was used to elevate photographers to take pictures of thel a y - o u t . ^ In the aftermath of the raid many black residents asked Davis to conduct an investigation into the shootings. In carrying out the inquiry he refused to consider eyewitness accounts. He only considered the "official" police version. "I have assured myself that the allegations are without Justification, if we had done what the Chicago police did in their raid of Panther headquarters then...the charges would have been justified. But this was a clean operation. It was so straightforward that only routine follow-up is required. There will be no major investigation." Davis' comments angered the black

Interview with Thomas Monahan by Dick Murway, Container 7, Folder 104, CBS Papers, pp. 10-11; Call and Post, 1 August 70, 4 April 70, 20 June 70, 8 August 70; Stokes, "Promises," pp. 191-192, 195-196. Lt. Benjamin O. Davis to Carl B. Stokes, 29 June 70, CBS Papers, Container 81. Folder 1567; Call and Post, 1 August 70, 4 July 70; Cleveland Plain Dealer, 30 June 70; Rev. Arthur LeMon to Carl B. Stokes re: situation at "79th and Rawlings," 29 June 70, CBS Papers, Container 88, Folder 1746.

344 community. With Davis' apparent support of the raid community activists began to call for his resignation. But by then Davis had already planned to resign because of continued community criticism.^ * * Because of Davis' pro-police attitude members of the black community stepped up their criticism. Many felt that he was a good ol boy who had no intent of reforming the safety forces. The general sought acceptance by maintaining the status quo. Much of the criticism toward Davis came from local black nationalists. In their opinion General Davis was the personification of a sell-out, a hi-ranking black man in the white man's army. Needless to say this criticism did not sit well with Davis who was unaccustomed to intense scrutiny. What angered Davis the most was that many of his critics were friends of Stokes. Some were even on city payroll. In his autobiography, Davis labeled many of his critics "self-declared racists" and "enemies of law enforcement." In particular, the general was upset with one community activist because he made "inflammatory" and "anti-police" statements. In late June and early July 1970 Davis approached Stokes about the criticism he was receiving from the black community. He then asked the mayor to sever his ties with these "enemies." Among those whom he considered enemies of law enforcement were Harllel Jones, head of the Afro-Set, Baxter Hill, Rev. Arthur LeMon, recently- appointed director of the Community Relations Board, the Cleveland Council of Churches, the Call and Post, the Friendly Inn Settlement House, and the Black Panthers. While Stokes considered all of these groups and individuals important to the black community, Davis thought otherwise. To the General they were the "opposition." When Stokes refused to honor his request, Davis abruptly resigned. However, the resignation letter leaked to the press devastated the Stokes administration by stating that his decision to leave was based on the fact that his department was not receiving the "support" it required, and

518 QqIi Post, 11 July 70; Cleveland Press, 2 July 70, 20 July 70, 22 July 70.

345 that Stokes was giving gracious "support" and "comfort" to the "enemies of law enforcement" But in the letter Davis declined to reveal the names of the so-called "enemies," leaving the local media to speculate widely on his allegations.

I find it necessary and desirable to resign as director of public safety. The reasons are simple, I am not receiving from you and your administration the support my programs require, and the enemies of law enforcement continue to receive support and comfort from you and your administration. I request your acceptance of my resignation at your earliest convenience.^

When Stokes received the resignation letter he immediately asked Davis to attend a news conference. At the news conference Davis was barraged with questions concerning his allegations. The following question-and-answer scenario characterized much of the press gathering:

Q: Could you describe for us the particular type of people with whom he might be permissive? Davis: No, I really would not, and as a matter of fact, I would prefer not to go into any detail with anyone on that particular subject.

Although Davis refused to specifically identify the individuals, he did admit that the cooperation between he and Stokes "was not to his liking. But again I am a pretty selfish individual, I like things my way and I define cooperation as things being done my way..."

519 Davis, "Autobiography," pp. 346-348; "Transcript of Press Conference on the Resignation of Benjamin Davis, " 27 July 70, Container 9, Folder 170, CBS Papers' Stokes, "Promises," p. 200; Cleveland Press, 29 July 70.

346 In response to Davis' implication that Stokes was interfering with his department, Stokes then asked Chief Coffey to discuss the cooperation between him and the mayor. "Mayor Stokes told me at the time that he did not care who I arrested or how I had the law enforced as long as it was done in fair and equitable manner and that all the laws were to be enforced...! had full authority." Members of the local media then asked Davis about the enemies of law enforcement. "The people I'm referring to, " he stated emphatically, "are not hold-up men. They are not people who sell narcotics. If you are able to think of other enemies of law enforcement around this city perhaps you will be able to discern what I'm speaking of." The press conference came to a close with Davis still refusing to elaborate on the letter.520 XIII The following day the headlines in the major dailies read: "Mayor is Dealt his Worst Political Blow, " "The Mayor and the General a Collision of Philosophies, " "Stokes—Man in Trouble," "A Critical Hour for Cleveland." They all embraced the underlying tone that Davis' allegations were accurate. What made Davis' accusations more credible was the fact since Stokes entered office in 1967 the mayor had taken a proactive approach toward the militant factions in the black community. Since the charges left a "cloud over the safety department," Stokes held a press conference at which he asked Davis to identify the "enemies" of law enforcement. Moreover, he also gave the press a copy of Davis' resignation letter so they could clearly understand the vagueness of the allegations. "In as much as he has made much of this letter public anyway, I give you a copy of it at this time. You will see it is no more revealing...If the General has charges he wants to level against individuals or organizations, then he should list them himself. I see no reason why there should be any continuing mystery about this." Stokes then issued a challenge to the

520 "Transcript of Press Conference on Ben Davis," Container 82, Folder 1612, CBS Papers; Cleveland Press, 28 July 70.

347 General: "It is important, I believe to this city that the General produce such a hst so that the community can evaluate for themselves, first, if in fact they are enemies, and secondly, if in fact my administration has aided them." At this point Stokes knew exactly who Davis was referring to, he knew it was not "revolutionaries" nor "violent-prone troublemakers," but those "who work within the system but disagree with it." Then Stokes said, "I have no problems with his charge that I give them support and comfort." Despite Stokes' pleas, Davis still refused to identify the alleged enemies. When a local reporter informed Davis of Stokes' remarks, he retorted, "I just don't have anything more to say. I'm not going to refuse, but I'm just not going to get into a pubhc debate with the mayor. I don't have anything more to say."52i

On the third day of the controversy Stokes released the names of persons and organizations whom Davis wanted Stokes "to take action against." Based largely upon prior conversations between him and Davis, Stokes hsted the Cleveland Council of Churches, the Call and Post, the Friendly Inn Settlement House, Harllel Jones, Baxter Hill, Rev. Arthur LeMon, and the United Committee to Combat Fascism, (an arm of the Black Panther Party). In Stokes' words, Davis asked him to go to the Executive Committee of the Welfare Federation and have the funds cut off to the Cleveland Council of Churches as a means of silencing the Metropolitan Affairs Commission, " a group which has criticized him." Stokes informed him that in "good conscience" he could not "subvert" a valuable program. Davis also asked Stokes to request that the United Appeal discontinue funds to the Friendly Inn Settlement, the meeting place of the Black Panthers. With regards to Baxter Hill, Davis wanted him "contained," but not "shot," because he was "against" the General's agenda. Stokes also informed the press about Davis' attitude toward CRB Director LeMon, who Davis said was "mixed-up" with many of his opponents, including

^21 Statement by Stokes, 29 July 70, Container 81, Folder 1574, CBS Papers; Plain D ealer, 27 July 70; Cleveland Press, 28 July 70.

348 Operation Black Unity. Lastly, Stokes recalled that Davis was also against the Call and Post for undermining his "effectiveness," since in his opinion, the editors of the paper "condoned violence." When Stokes revealed the names the local media was shocked.

Equally surprised were the individuals on the "enemies list. 22

On a hour-long TV special devoted to the Davis controversy, several individuals on the enemies list stated their case against Davis. Charles Loeb, managing editor of the Call and Post, which had been extremely critical of Davis, stated, "our criticism of the General was that he was not quite knowledgeable enough of this community to be an effective safety director." He continued, "we examined him and found him not to our liking." Community Relations Board Director Rev. Arthur LeMon remarked that the differences between him and Davis developed when Davis failed to meet with the militant factions of the black community. Although Davis initially agreed to the dialogue, "he failed to follow through." Commenting on the Black Panthers inclusion on the list, one Panther member stated, "we definitely consider ourselves enemies of those fascists, those racists who carry badges. But if a policeman comes in the black community and conducts himself as a man, we'll get along." Harllel Jones argued that Davis considered the Afro-Set an enemy because they were "attempting to police black neighborhoods." Jones also informed viewers that he had often confronted Davis about police harassment toward members of the Afro-Set, but the General never sought to resolve the situation. In a separate setting, Dave Phoenix, head of Friendly Inn Settlement, remarked that Davis' comments were an "attack on me and the board and staff and all those who attend our center... We let them (Black Panthers) meet here just like other groups including the Society for the Blind and the Cleveland Schools. They are public meetings. I feel that we have a very cooperative

522 Plain Dealer, 27 July 70, 28 July 70, 29 July 70;Cleveland Press, 28 July 70, 29 July 70, 30 July 70; "Mayor's Reports on Conversations with Safety Director Regarding "Enemies of Law Enforcement," Container 81, Folder 1574, CBS P a p er s.

349 relationship with the police. We are a community service center, not a center for militant activity." Baxter Hill argued that Davis was purely one-dimensional: "my only comment is that General Davis always has been a good general and nothing else." By attacking such respectable persons and entities such as Friendly Inn, the Cleveland Council of Churches, and Rev. Arthur LeMon, Davis further polarized the community. His charges were giving credence to the perception that Stokes was an opponent of law enforcement. Conversely, Davis' actions confirmed the black community's opinion that General Benjamin O. Davis, Jr., was a "sell-out."523

In response to the controversy some of Davis' supporters, including Dr. Keimeth Clement, began to defend the General. "It is a tragedy that the General's charges are true, " said Clement. Plain Dealer writer Thomas Guthrie remarked, "Ben Davis was another who had the courage to tell the mayor when he thought he was wrong." The statements by Clement and Guthrie were played up in the local press as some writers began to question Stokes' ability to deal with people who disagreed with him. Days after the resignation, the Plain Dealer exploited this idea with a front-page story headlined: "Twenty Key Stokes' Aides Depart in Three Years," implying broadly that although some of Stokes' former officials resigned to take other positions, several left, such as Dr. Clement and former Law Director Paul White, over disagreements with the mayor.^24

As the white community bought into these arguments, the response in the black community was entirely different. Supporters of the administration flooded the mayor's office with letters of encouragement. Mrs. Jean Cashnell of Cleveland was extremely "delighted" that the "military" head of the safety forces was "leaving." First United Methodist Church Pastor Paul M. Ward felt that Davis' appointment was "most

523 Cleveland Press, 30 July 70; Plain Dealer, 30 August 70; Call and Post, 1 A ugust 70. 524 Zannes, "Checkmate," p. 224; Plain Dealer 29 July 70;

350 unfortunate," although he initially thought it was a "good one at the time." Ward went on to say that it was foolish of him not to expect that "a military man who has been isolated and insulated from civilian life and in particular the urban community, would be expected to capitulate to an entrenched police force." Members of The Justice Task Force of Lutheran Metropolitan Ministry felt that the safety needs of Cleveland were not well served by "military policies and solutions," thus they were not surprised that Davis "condoned and encouraged" such draconian policies. Long-time school activist Daisy Craggett believed that Davis was "a military brain-washed man," who by virtue of his military achievements demanded "total and irrevocable and unquestionable obedience and control." Herbert

Phipps, who had "always been suspicious of professional soldiers," also spoke of Davis' need for control: "this is especially true of generals because they grow accustomed to being the whole show and thus they have difficulty trying to adjust to situations in which they must take orders." An anonymous writer told Stokes that he must remember that Davis was a "militarist. All of his life has been devoted to this end. Hence in handling situations his solutions would quite naturally veer toward the military approach, instead of one conducive to the social minutes needed in handling in civilian situations." Rather, "If 1 am not mistaken," he continued, "I think this is one of the reasons the various federal defense offices are headed by civilians and not military men." Several of Davis' critics pointed to his military background in hopes of trying to find some reasonable explanation for his actions, and others mentioned his inability to deal with lower-class blacks as the chief reason for his "downfall." A writer from Phoenix, AZ wrote Stokes telling him not to "despair because there were a lot of men trapped in black skin." This former military official went on to discuss Davis' involvement with black soldiers, telling Stokes that he wasn't "enthralled" by Davis' "credentials nor fanfare." Although this writer knew that Davis had been "alienated from black people for the past thirty years," he was hoping that Davis at least shared some "similar likes" and dislikes with his people. Paul Ward was not

351 surprised at Davis' posture at all, since in his opinion Davis acted "white." Margaret Patton penned that the army and private school training kept "silver-spoon" Davis shielded from the "ghetto walls of his country." Others such as Charles Underwood saw Davis' resignation in broader terms, "General Davis, like the (Kenneth) Clements and (Leo) Jacksons of our race simply have not come of age. They are allowing themselves to be used as a tool to divide us, black man against black man, moderate against militant, etc." Editors at the Florida Sentinel-Bulletin felt that his charges of corruption could have devastating ramifications for black political aspirations: "Since this is a moment in history in which black mayors must be above suspicion, Benjamin O. Davis, Jr., has done the black race a disservice by refusing to name the 'enemies of law enforcement.'" In response to his letters of support Stokes privately wrote thank-you letters expressing his opinion of Davis. In a letter sent to Georgia State Representative Julian Bond, Stokes wrote: "Thank you for your thoughtfulness in sending me the Atlanta Enquirer editorial regarding General Davis, we've been dealing with people like him throughout our fight for freedom. We have and wül continue to overcome all they represent.

XIV The hiring and firing of Lt. General Benjamin O. Davis, Jr., symbolized the Stokes administration- seemingly promising administrative moves later evolving into disappointment and embarrassment. In hiring Davis, Stokes was hoping to heal the tenuous relationship between city hall and the city's police forces. With full military

^25 Zannes, "Checkmate," p. 224; Plain Dealer 29 July 70; Anonymous to Stokes 1 August 70, Cashwell to Stokes, 27 July 70, Anonymous to Stokes, 28 July 70, Anonymous to Stokes, 28 July 70, Phipps to Stokes, 29 July 70, Underwood to Stokes, undate, Stokes to Bond, undated, all in Container 25, Folder 441, this folder also contains numerous letters from Davis supporters expressing support for the general; Individual Letters to the editor of the Call and Post, from : The Justice Task Force, Daisy Craggett, Margaret Taylor, Margaret Patton, all in Call and Post, 8 August 70.

352 honors and great fanfare Davis was welcomed by the black community who were somewhat optimistic that Davis would use his position to bring the Cleveland Police Department under civilian control. By seeking support from the white rank-and-file Davis was following a long pattern which had been set by his father who was famous for his statement to black troops; "I may be your color, but I am not your kind." Although Stokes realized that the Davis appointment was a calculated risk, he had been desperate. Since the mayor was still determined to reform the police department General Davis was attractive; a military man well respected in law enforcement circles. However, Davis was not the man for Stokes. The mayor was in need of someone who was familiar with all elements of the black community and someone who would not be afraid to sit down and interact with militant factions within the city. However, for Davis to become safety director under Stokes was a disaster waiting to happen. Davis was not accustomed to taking orders. In essence, he did not understand that Stokes was his boss and that his decisions should reflect the mayor’s wishes. However, Stokes is not completely absolved of guilt. He failed to make the requisite background check. General Davis' accomodationist attitude was well known in black military circles, but Stokes failed to solicit or take into account their opinions. Now as Stokes entered his last year in office he was growing increasingly frustrated and angry at the dual nexus of race and politics, and his battles with city council would escalate to a level never seen before in the chambers of Cleveland City Hall.

353 CHAPTER 8

COUNCIL WARS

As Stokes prepared for his last year in office the city was facing a financial crisis as a result of constant white-flight, plant relocation, an expanded municipal work-force, and the continual influx of high-cost citizens. In his failed effort to secure an increase in the city income tax Stokes received little help from his enemies in Cleveland City Council. The increased opposition from his political opponents would eventually convince him not to seek another term.526

I According to state guidelines the only avenue available for a city to raise additional funds was to either increase the property tax or the income tax. Stokes made up his mind in early June to press for a tax increase when City Finance Director Philip Dearborn suggested an increase in the municipal income tax and the repeal of reciprocity credit for non-resident taxpayers. Under reciprocity, a non-resident working in the city would pay

Unlike other mainline industrial cities Cleveland did not undergo rapid plant relocation and deindustrialization until the mid-1970s, primarily because of its diverse industries. The city experienced its first wave of massive job loss between 1947 and 1967 as 53,000 Jobs were eleminated. But the experience in the mid-1960s was not as drastic. For instance between 1966 and 1970, 125 firms representing 6,188 employees left the city; however, 187 businesses came into the city limits bringing 7,654 Jobs. For more on plant relocation see: City Planning Commission, "Jobs and Income: An Analysis of Employment in the Cleveland Area," Volume I, December 1973, City of Cleveland.

354 75% of his income tax to Cleveland and 25% to his own community. Based upon Dearborn's proposal the Task Force on City Finances made the following recommendations based upon the projection that the city needed $133.1 million in revenues to operate: (1) that the 5.8 mill operating levy (property tax) due to expire on 31 December 70 not be submitted to the voters for renewal; (2) an increase in the municipal income tax from 1.0% to 1.8%; (3) the elimination of tax-sharing with the suburbs. The Task Force's rationale for not renewing the property tax levy was based upon the fact that it would be "unduly burdensome to those on fixed incomes," in particular the elderly and the poor. Although the Task Force realized that it would decrease revenue, their hope was that the additional revenue raised would offset the loss. In submitting the recommendations the Task Force knew that the increased tax would fall hard on suburbanites, but in their words it would force those working in the city, but not living in the city, to support the services of the city. In addition, the Task Force was also cognizant that suburban communities would face increased financial hardship, but they believed that their own legislative bodies could "look to their own internal resources for future financing." Upon accepting the recommendations of the Task Force the mayor thanked them for "analyzing Cleveland's financial crisis and finding the answers to the meeting of that crisis." Stokes believed that the combination of eliminating reciprocity, lowering real-estate taxes, and going to the income tax as the major base of revenue represented a major reform in a long-existing, traditional way of generating city revenue. However, although these recommendations were eagerly accepted by Stokes, he knew that the implementation of these proposals was another battle. It still had to be passed by city council then "approved by the people." But if passed "it will provide the city with a base of revenue that will ensure the needed income for several years," remarked Stokes.^27

527 Clarence James to Philip Dearborn, re: "Municipal Tax Increase,

355 Part of the reason the city was in need of additional income, other than the constant decline of the city's industrial tax base, was that the Stokes administration had not only expanded the city's payroll but had also committed $30 million in wage and fringe increases for municipal employees. Since Stokes had taken office 1091 additional workers had been added to the city payroll, primarily in the area of public safety. With the increased payroll came drastic budget increases, particularly in the area of public safety. In 1970, 53.4% or $74.4 million went to safety, up from $37.9 million in 1967, representing an increase of $19.5 million. 30% of the city's workforce were police officers as the Cleveland Police Department increased its citizen-to-police ratio to 3.4 for every 1,000 citizens. These increased safety expenditures, largely as a result of the cries for law-and- order, had a devastating impact on city finances. The city was also hit hard by tax sharing. In 1969 the city lost $5.1 million on reciprocity, while suburban areas such as Cleveland Heights and Lakewood gained approximately $307,000 and $360,000 respectively. Thus, because of the structural changes in the economy, an increased city payroll, and tax sharing, the city was facing a financial nightmare. It was Stokes' responsibility to sell city council and the people on his tax reformpackage.^^s

Stokes gave a speech on his tax proposal at the City Club, social home of Cleveland's white business establishment. He led off by labeling the Cleveland city limits a financial "noose" that choked residents by inflicting a lopsided tax burden on the poor. In response to suburban criticism concerning his plans to repeal the reciprocity agreement.

Reciprocity Credit," 10 July 70, Container 74, Folder 1411, CBS Papers; "Task Force Membership," Container 57, Folder 1111, CBS Papers; Task Force to Stokes, re: "Tax Reform," 21 July 70, Container 74, Folder 1411; Stokes to A. A. Sommer, Task Force Chair, 24 July 70, Container 74, Folder 1411, CBS Papers. 528 "Payroll Information: Comparison of Municipal Employees," Container 23, Folder 402, CBS Papers; File on "Police Costs 1968-1970," Container 55, Folder 1031, CBS Papers; Flyer on "Safety Budget: 1960 and 1970," Container 55, Folder 1031, CBS Papers; "Effect of Reciprocity on Municipal Income tax Receipts, 1969, Container 74, Folder 1411, CBS Papers; Plain Dealer, 30 June 70.

356 Stokes contended: "I ana a Clevelander and my responsibility as Mayor is to the people of this city. And I must insist that there be unity in the suburbs, total cooperation, because I cannot in good conscience ask Clevelanders to pay when much wealthier suburbanites refuse." Stokes was willing to keep reciprocity if the suburbs did likewise, but as it stood only a handful of suburbs had agreements with the city, not including the highly industrialized suburbs of Brookpark and Bedford Hts. "All people who work in Cleveland will support this city," said Stokes, "suburbanites must understand that the time has come when they will have to pay their fair share for their use of this city." Stokes was referring to the approximately 250,000 people that commuted to the city each day, causing the poorer citizens of the city to subsidize the suburbs in police protection, street maintenance, and traffic control. "The most taxable people and many of the best tax-paying industries and businesses move outside the city. That has left Cleveland with the least taxable people. The oldest real property and the costliest slum and welfare problems." On the increased income tax proposal Stokes admitted that the tax was "regressive, that it hits the little guy the hardest," but that the city had no alternative. But nonetheless, he was willing to listen to other plans that presented a "fair and equitable alternative."^29

As Stokes was pushing for the tax package several of his critics denied the need for a tax increase, most notably, Councilmen Dennis Kucinich. Although the young and brash representative from Ward 7 agreed to end tax reciprocity, he felt that a tax increase was "unnecessary." In arguing against the tax, he suggested that the city would be able to meet is financial obligations from the existing 1% income tax as a result of inflation and through the "attrition" of the city work force. Other councilmen such as Lawrence Duggan and Anthony Garofoli were in complete agreement. In early August Stokes took his plans to the council Finance Committee, since he needed a two-thirds vote from city council to get

529 Cleveland Press, 24 July 70; Plain Dealer, 25 July 70.

357 his tax package on the ballot for November. While council agreed to let the voters decide, the Stanton clique would not agree to support its passage. "It's the mayor's issue, let him sell it," said one unidentified councilmember. Also pledging to work against the tax plan was the local UAW and Cleveland Federation of Labor, AFL-CIO who believed the tax package to be nothing but a disguise to give big business a tax break at the expense of the working-class. "We want no part of this make-believe tax reform, " said Robert Weismann of the 50,000 member UAW, "it subsidizes commercial and industrial interests at the expense of wage earners. " With the two large labor organizations pledged to fight the plan, combined with council's negative attitude toward the package, Stokes was facing an uphill battle. But in the wake of these disappointments he pledged to keep fighting: "The CFL endorsement would have been a big boost. However, this will not deter us in our effort to have the Cleveland voters approve decent wages and a standard of living for the thousands of city employees who have served them so weU."^3° II One month prior to the election Stokes launched an intensive tax-reform campaign. However, in selling the plan Stokes faced two major obstacles. First, how to convey to residents the impending financial crisis, and second, how to convince them that the increased income tax would not burden them. Prior to starting the campaign Stokes met with his entire cabinet and commissioners to let them know that he expected "full cooperation" from them to work for the passage of the plan. He instructed them to "develop a campaign package to disseminate clear and understandable facts to all city employees" concerning the tax. Stokes was expecting all city workers "to be actively involved." To reach the taxpayer, "blitz squads" went door-to-door, placards were placed

Cleveland Press, 23 July 70, II August 70, 10 September 70, 13 September 70; Editorial Reply by Dennis Kucinich, 11 August 70, WJW-TV8 (Cleveland), Container 74, Folder 1411;

358 on city buses, and town hall meetings featuring Stokes and his cabinet were held across the city. In selling the tax Stokes stressed several themes: the decline of the city's tax base with the continual out-migration to the suburbs; the constant influx of poor citizens; valuable tax exemptable property throughout the city; the idea that "everyone must pay his fair share"; escalating police costs; salary increases; and lastly, how his tax increase would be spread among "all people who use the city, based on their income." To better "spell-out" in laymen's terms Stokes' package, the tax reform team printed up four-page brochures, illustrating how much the tax would affect the average Cleveland resident in comparison with the suburbanite. Based upon average incomes, a Clevelander earning $9109 annually would pay $163.96 a year in taxes, while a Shaker Heights resident grossing $25,758 a year would pay $463.64. According to the campaign literature, this was a "fair way to tax Clevelanders because it places more of the burden on the people who live in the suburbs and work in Cleveland. Under tax reform suburbanites and business will pay 72% of the increased tax." In stressing the need for voter support Stokes emphasized the repeal of reciprocity effective October 1st and the decline in the property tax at the end of the year. To allay additional fears about the increase, Stokes made public the income that would be exempt under his plan, such as Social Security, unemployment wages, alimony, and old- age pensions, among o t h e r s . ^

One week prior to the election Stokes held two Town Hall meetings, and produced a pitch over the airways in a thirty minute TV special paid for by the Committee on Tax Reform. With hopes of selling his plan to the all-important white-ethnic who was sure to be watching, Stokes played up to the proponents of law-and-order by arguing about the need

Liebtag Interview; Harris Interview; Flyer on Issue #7, Container 55, Folder 1031, CBS Papers; Memo to Task Force members, re: "door-to-door canvassing." 27 October 70, Container 55, Folder 1031, CBS Papers; "Fact Sheet for Issue #7," Container 74, Folder 1418, CBS Papers; "Exemptions Under Proposed City Income Tax, Container 23, Folder 402, CBS Papers; Plain Dealer, 30 October 70.

359 for more police. "We must have more police," he said, "this is how we have reduced violent crime by 9% so far, we need more men to prevent crime and to apprehend criminals. That takes money." But Stokes' chief opponents were not buying into this sales pitch. While everyone expected the former Stantonites (now under the direction of City Council President Anthony Garofoli) to oppose the issue, the silence by such liberal organizations as the Greater Cleveland Growth Association, and the equally suburban- dominated Citizens League, was shocking. Although both organizations endorsed the tax plan, neither actively campaigned for it. Their refusal to actively support the plan caused the Committee for Tax Reform to fall short of its fundraising goal of $50,000. The lack of fundraising was interesting because previous political drives endorsed by the Growth Association had little trouble raising money. The deliberate plan not to support the tax increase was a well orchestrated effort by Stanton and Garofoli. They were trying to force Stokes into governing a bankrupt city. According to one poUtical expert their plan was to actively campaign against the issue, then support a lower tax increase to provide just enough money "to keep policemen on the street and the garbage trucks running. But not enough to get at the real problems that plague the city." This same writer suggested that the "plan" was to keep services minimal, and phase out the city's Equal Opportunity enforcement and low-income housing programs, all under the guise of fiscal conservatism.^^- Stokes' opponents were effective in mounting opposition by labeling the increase a "Stokes tax. " It failed miserably on election day, 106,410 to 76,277. The tax plan basically came down to a referendum on Stokes as fourteen of the fifteen wards he carried in the 1969 mayoral election voted for the tax plan. Stokes placed the blame for its failure squarely on the shoulders of Cleveland City Council: "The failure by council to support the

532 Greater Cleveland Growth Association memo, 2 October 70, Container 59, Folder 111, CBS Papers; Call and Post, 24 October 70, 31 October 70.

360 increase represents an abdication of its responsibilities and duties. They reviewed the budget three times and still decided to place the increase on the ballot. They were therefore unjustified in not supporting the tax." Speaking at Tax Reform Committee headquarters as the disappointing election results were announced, Stokes labeled the defeat "a great blow for the city," while adding that the anticipated cutback measures "will have to be done." Stokes then lashed out at the lack of support he received from his own friends in council, calling their effort "atrocious." He remarked, "Even with the councilmen who expressed support for the issue, I have yet to see more than four of them out working for it." But even in defeat Stokes claimed a moral victory, believing that the failed campaign gave him an opportunity "to educate our public about the present status and financial needs of the city." He also saw a gleam of hope in the fact that 40% voted for the issue, "in a city busy responding to negativism and bigotry."533

At a news conference on the day after the election Stokes noted that the $27 million shortage would mean a 3200-person reduction in the city's twelve-thousand plus work force. He pledged to close the police academy and lay off cadets, to place a freeze on hiring by the safety department, to cancel all-winter recreation activities, a fifty percent reduction in the activities of the health center, a fifty percent reduction of all maintenance employees, and to close all urban renewal offices. "There will be no new programs of any kind," said Stokes. After hearing of the planned cutbacks City Council President Garofoli and Robert Weismann, UAW leader, went on the defensive: "It seems to me a fifteen percent cutback in the workforce is not warranted," said Garofoli, "now is not the time to point the finger of blame or to panic by answering with unwarranted and unreasonable cuts in service. Council provided a budget to meet the needs of 1970 and 1 can assure you, will meet its responsibilities in 1971." Stokes responded, "it will be up to them (City Council)

5 3 3 Plain Dealer, 3 November 70.

361 to approve or improve it." Councilman Dennis Kucinich agreed: "the people of Cleveland have made an intelligent decision in asking a tighter fiscal policy for our city." He continued, "it will be up to city council to reassess the spending policies of the administration and to suggest budget adjustments." By armouncing the drastic cuts Stokes was not only trying to meet the city's financial needs, he was also trying to embarrass those that asserted that the city did not need to increase the tax. However, when the cuts were announced City Council was already making plans to call a special election for a smaller tax increase.^^'^ In addition to the tax failure Stokes was given further bad news when Common Pleas Court Judge George McMonagle refused, on legal grounds, to permit the city to end reciprocity. In a ruling that cost the city an additional $6 million in revenue, McMonagle ruled that under the existing agreement Cleveland had to notify suburban governments before February 20th of its plans to end tax sharing. Stokes also suffered another defeat on election day as citizens passed a charter amendment requiring that city council be given the authority to select two seats on the Board of Control (which awarded contracts), which had historically been made up of the mayor’s cabinet. The basis for this legislation was that Garofoli could not digest the idea that Stokes was awarding contracts to black firms. The effective opposition mounted by the anti-Stokes forces in council, combined with the lack of support from the city's labor, business, and welfare sector illustrated that the Stokes phenomena was wearing off. Whereas Stokes probably expected his opponents in council to actively oppose him, the lack of support he received firom the other segments of society was a clear indication that the Stokes experiment was nearing completion. As 1970 came to a close Stokes was growing increasingly frustrated with his inability to move the city forward. With major political defeats in the areas of police reform, low-income

534 Plain Dealer, 3 November 70, 5 November 70;

362 housing, and now tax reform, Stokes was realizing the limits of his power. But in spite of his individual disappointments, the November elections did signal the arrival of the Twenty-First District Caucus.^^s

The Caucus flexed its political muscle in its first election. In late May 1970 the Caucus announced that it was endorsing its own candidates for office. In mid-September they held a series of screenings for offices at the federal, state, and local level. One week before the October primary the Caucus announced its slate of candidates for the November 3rd general election. On the list were several Republican candidates. Most notably they endorsed Seth Taft for county commissioner, three GOP appellate court candidates, along with three GOP common pleas court nominees as well. (Ironically the Caucus came out openly against the judicial candidacy of Councilman Leo Jackson.) As the Caucus was exercising its political independence. City Council President Anthony Garofoli and Democratic County Commissioner candidate Frank Gorman began suggesting that the Caucus endorsements of Republicans were part of a prearranged deal. "I am not surprised at the endorsement, as I figured my GOP opponent (Taft) would bid very high for this support and pay a dear price," said Gorman, "I wonder what was promised the Caucus," he asked. Garofoli made a similar implication by arguing that Stokes was behind the GOP endorsements, with the underlying goal of receiving a favorable appointee to the CMHA board. This allegation drew a fiery response from Caucus director James Rogers: "he is in error...I cannot understand why Garofoli issues a public charge he obviously made up about those involved...the Caucus considers Garofoli's statement no more than popping off about something which he knows nothing."^^^ Of the three main candidates the Caucus endorsed, only Seth Taft was elected, as he soundly defeated Gorman. In other races with Caucus influence Senate nominee Howard

Cleveland Press, 6 November 70. 536 Cleveland Press, 30 September 70.

363 Metzenbaum did well in black wards, but Caucus endorsee Allen Bartunek lost handily in his bid for a probate judgeship. Although the Caucus took credit for defeating Gorman, Democratic County Chair Bartunek attempted to downplay the Caucus' role in the election by stating, "the people in that district, like any other voters, look at the newspapers, the political parties and the candidates then make up their minds." Although the infant organization achieved moderate success on election day, it was a giant step for black politics. With local Clevelanders upset at the local Democratic party's patronizing attitude the Caucus was charting a new path in local politics, by voting for the individual, as opposed to party affiliation.Cleveland Press political writer George Anthony Moore summed up the Caucus' efforts: "The initial performance of the Twenty-First District Caucus had the effect of a drop of water on a huge shoulder...If we look into the future that small drop will turn into a steady flow and the impact of the Twenty-First District Caucus will be that of a thundering waterfall on the political life of this city."^^^ Ill As the Stokes administration began to adjust fiscal priorities in the aftermath of the failed tax increase, the death-knell for scattered-site public housing was being heard with the firing of Cleveland Metropolitan Housing Authority Director Irving Kriegsfeld by the five-person CMHA board. As Stokes' chief lieutenant in the battle for public housing Kriegsfeld had come under intense criticism throughout his tenure. As director of CMHA his intent was to purchase land and units outside the traditional slum areas, and with the aid of private developers build new housing. But due to the controversial nature of his plans he consistently faced intense opposition. His appointment to the City Planning Commission in 1968 was blocked by Stanton on technical grounds, and during the Lee- Seville controversy he became so enraged that he temporarily resigned when the board

Plain Dealer, 4 November 70; Cleveland Press, 7 November 70, 18 November 70.

364 issued a gag order on the controversial plan. During the public housing crisis of 1970 Councilman Stanton and Garofoli initiated a plan to oust Kriegsfeld. According to CMHA by-laws the mayor could appoint two members, and the county commissioners, probate judges, and the court of common pleas could each make one appointment. In the fall of 1970 the board consisted of Alfred Soltz and Louise Hall, Stokes' appointees. Miles Moran and Lois Filipic, holdovers from previous administrations, and A. I. Davey. With Davey's announcement that he was planning to resign toward the end of October, Stanton and Garofoli went to work on finding a suitable replacement since the Democratic county commissioners were responsible for filhng the vacancy. With Stanton's strong recommendation Davey was replaced by former Congressman Robert Sweeney. Upon taking the seat Garofoli told Sweeney to provide the swing vote to fire Kriegsfeld. He did. Board member Filipic explained the firing: "I feel that in recent months there has been a contentious attitude toward much of the community, which, if continued, could lead to the ultimate phasing out of pubhc housing in this area." Kriegsfeld's only comment on the day of his engineered ouster was "no comment." Stokes' response to the firing was expected: "It is obvious that the CMHA voted for tradition over today's progress. Their vote clearly indicates a prejudice against the elderly and low-income families. It is a tragic day for housing in Cleveland." When word of the board's actions reached the black community, many leaders and public housing activists expressed similar concerns as the mayor. Ernest Cooper of the CUL remarked that his organization was "shocked" at the ouster, while housing activist Charles Beard commented that the community could not afford to lose the "production and momentum" gained under Kriegsfeld's leadership. Louise Hall, the only black member on the CMHA board summed up the reason for Kriegsfeld's firing by claiming that "the action was personal and political. No other director has made much progress in his thirty months time. " Local SCLC chair, Randall Osbum, who was already

365 organizing a rent strike with CMHA tenants, at the time of Kriegsfeld's firing, was furious: "Kriegsfeld was fired because of politics, he dared to give a damn."^^® In spite of the fact that Kriegsfeld built or placed under construction more than five thousand public housing units in his short two-and-a-half year tenure, he was dismissed. In a collective act of protest against Kriegsfeld’s termination approximately eighty-percent of CMHA's maintenance workers called in "sick" the day after the firing. In addition to the sick strike by workers, Osbum and CMHA residents announced a city-wide rent strike. "Tenants are now aware of their rights and we are very upset over the dismissal...we are going to withhold our rent, " declared Osbum. Joseph Haggerty, CMHA clerk and Kreigsfeld supporter, was hoping that seventy-five percent of the area's ten thousand public housing residents would withhold rent for the month of January. He announced, "I believe that the great majority of tenants from all estates will support a strike." Osbum added, "the strike will go on until the CMHA board resigns and Mr. Kriegsfeld is restored. " On a televised news program Osbum asserted that the tenants would support the workers by placing their rent money into escrow until Kriegsfeld was reinstated and tenants secured representation on the board. The SCLC chair was certain that at least fifteen- hundred residents would withhold January rent. In response CMHA officials wamed the protesters that unless they paid their rent, they would face eviction. To help forestall eviction proceedings Attomeys James Carson, Edward Haggins, and several staff members from Legal Aid, agreed to provide legal assistance to the protesters, "if CMHA evicts anyone it will have to evict all the dissidents...we have asked our lawyers to insure that any eviction would be a mass eviction," said Osbum. As the "sick-out" and rent strike continued, the protesters took their demonstrations to CMHA headquarters. On Friday,

53* Cleveland Press, 9 October 69, 9 June 70, 4 January 71, 5 Janury 71;Plain D ealer, 4 October 69; Call and Post, 9 January 71; "Three Board Members Must Go," re: CMHA Board, Container 29, Folder 530; Norman Krumholz, M aking Equity Planning Work (Philadelphia: Temple University Press,), 1990.

366 January 15 th, hundreds of protesters were arrested after disrupting a CMHA board meeting, demanding the reinstatement of Kreigsfeld. Days later, the protest continued at CMHA offices as employees needed a police escort to get through the tense area. On the night of the 19th the protest turned violent when a firebomb was tossed through the front window of James Jones, Jr., manager of CMHA's Outhwaite Estate.^39

As the protests continued Councilman Anthony Garofoli called on Stokes to end the demonstrations. "No level of government, including the metropolitan housing authority can operate in an atmosphere of fear, intimidation, and violence," he noted, " when offices of the board are themselves intimidated, and when staff members are subject to fire bombing and shootings, there is a need for demonstrative and decisive action...the threat on employees and tenants of CMHA should not be allowed to continue." To counter Garofoli's charge, Stokes offered as evidence that unruly protesters were arrested, and that police were providing ample protection. After continual protest. Common Pleas Court Judge Frank Celebreeze set the stage for negotiations by issuing a temporary injunction limiting demonstrators to six at each site, although he did allow peaceful protest at board meetings. As CMHA and its tenants held meetings there appeared to be no end in sight to the controversy. By mid-March all of the striking employees were back on the job, but tenants were still withholding their rent.^^o With the failed tax package and Kriegsfeld's termination, Stokes was finding it increasingly difficult to govern the city. Many of his ideas that were well received in 1967 were now coming under attack from all segments of the city electorate, causing him to wonder about the pervasive effects of racism and politics. This volatile mix would

Call and Post, 9 Jaunary 71, 23 Jaunary 71;Cleveland Press, 4 Jaunary 71; Plain Dealer, 5 January 71. Cleveland Press, 20 January 71, 21 Jaunary 71;Call and Post, 20 March 71.

367 eventually lead him to announce that he would not seek a third term, virtually making him a lame-duck mayor with seven months remaining in office.

IV

After Stokes laid off approximately one-thousand workers in the aftermath of the failed tax increase, Garofoli announced his own tax plan which called for a .6% increase in the income tax. Although racial issues prevented him from campaigning for the previous tax plan he nevertheless realized that there was a critical need for additional revenue. After city council agreed to call a special election for the increase Garofoli began to plead for the measure. The council president called the special election "a day of testing for om city of Cleveland." He later added that the election "will decide whether the public is willing to pay a small additional municipal income tax... to maintain basic city services at acceptable levels." To placate fears that he himself once raised concerning fiscal mismanagement by the administration, Garofoli promised not to let the increased revenues go for "frivolities and foolishness." Stokes assisted Garofoli in asking voters to approve the issue and disregard personalities. "This is not a matter of Carl Stokes versus any other individual or faction. This is not a matter of testing any individual's strength or council's collective strength," rather, he declared, "it is a question of whether or not Cleveland will survive as a city." In spite of the support for the measure by Garofoli the levy failed 62,639 to 54,649. As usual, the black wards voted for the tax plan while the anti-Stokes wards voted against it. After seeing the issue fail once again Stokes was clearly at a loss: "I blame everyone in the city of Cleveland." Garofoli, obviously embarrassed at his own inability to deliver the votes stated simply, "the will of the people of Cleveland has been expressed. They have chosen a reduction in city spending and as a result a reduction in city services." Many political observers added that the defeated tax levy was a "plebiscite on the mayor's popularity. " One writer wrote that "the people lacked confidence in his (Stokes') administration." Others agreed by making race the central issue, "it was a split vote against

368 the black mayor...that's the only way I know how to put it," said one public official.^'** The second failed tax increase illustrated the battle Stokes was facing to move the city forward. The plain and simple fact that the Garofoli clique were aware of the need for an increased tax, yet failed to campaign for it in November, caused Stokes to wonder if race was more important than the general welfare of the city. By choosing to play the politics of race over the politics of fiscal practicahty, the anti-Stokes group in council were jeopardizing the city's financial situation.

With the city in the midst of a financial nightmare Stokes called for more citizen participation in local government. "Although the loss of the tax issue certainly was a vital blow, " Stokes told his constituents, "we aren't wallowing in despair. Citizens are going to have to go back to doing for themselves many of the things that their government has been doing for them." After telling approximately one thousand businessmen, industrialists, and civic leaders at the annual Future of Cleveland Luncheon that "you're city isn't dead," he affirmed that it was time to step up, "it's time for a do-it-yourself course in many areas." Later at a televised news conference Stokes announced a plan of volunteerism: "What we are hoping for is a renaissance of volunteerism in Cleveland, a growth and strengthening of a 'do-it-ourselves' spirit, which will create a kind of Cleveland Peace Corps ...of Very Involved Persons." It was Stokes' intent to recruit local VIPs into volunteering for the city, with city hall acting as a clearinghouse.^'*^

V After backing Stokes into the embarrassing position of having to govern a city in the midst of a financial crisis, Garofoli went for the jugular as city council meetings turned into a virtual battlefield between the two camps. This struggle for power would eventually

Call and Post, 30 January 71, 6 February 71; Plain Dealer, 2 February 71, 1 February 71. ^'*2 Call and Post, 13 February 71; Cleveland Press, 3 February 71, 4 February 71; Plain Dealer, 3 February 71, 4 February 71.

369 lead Stokes to withdraw his cabinet from the weekly sessions. Throughout the Stokes era the Monday night gatherings in council chambers always presented an opportunity for Stokes' opponents to use the administration as a sounding board for the city’s problems. Although the mayor's cabinet and commissioners attended council meetings out of courtesy, the weekly meetings under Stanton and Garofoli turned into an ugly example of the political process. During Stokes' first term it was not uncommon for Stanton to gavel down his opponents or unplug their mikes as they were speaking. Nor was it rare for Stanton to quickly adjourn a meeting, all in a show of dictatorial leadership. Virtually aU of the tactics employed by Stanton were quickly picked up by Garofoli. Between January and February 1971, Ralph Tyler, director of the service department, and Walter Burkes, director of city personnel came under attack. Tyler was publicly taken to task for the city's inability to clear the major thoroughfares during a major snowstorm, and Burkes was called into council chambers for allegedly placing a city employee on the wrong departmental payroll. These incidents were interpreted as the first shots fired in what would be a virtual war between the Stokes administration and city council. At the weekly council session on February 22, 1971, the attacks continued. Councilman Francis Gaul accused Thomas Stallworth, commissioner of markets, weights, measures, of "malfeasance, misfeasance, nonfeasance," in duty. Gaul stated that his conclusions were based on a personal investigation of two Fisher-Fazio grocery stores in his ward. According to Gaul, on the 19th of February he and fourth ward resident Leo Urban, an off-duty inspector in Stallworth's division, went to the area stores and found that both stores contained a large number of short-weighted meat packages. (Meaning that the weight on the packages were actually higher than the actual weight of the contents.) Gaul went on to testify on council floor that Urban was later suspended by Stallworth with hopes of "forcing his resignation." Toward the end of the diatribe Gaul argued that Stallworth was guilty of "complicity adverse to the public interest." He then called for an

370 "official" council investigation. Stokes responded by declaring, "that kind of language is uncalled for." Although he was aware of "free speech," he was "disappointed in the adjectives used and the charges made by the councilman." Then Stokes went on to assert that Gaul had violated council's courtesy rule, that stated that councilmembers could not personally insult other members on the floor. This caused Councilman Richard Harmody to yell "point of order...it is not the place of the mayor to bring this point before council." Garofoli agreed that Stokes had no Jurisdiction to raise questions of impropriety. This caused Stokes to remark, "I'm not calling names Mr. President, but the issue I am raising is that we are here voluntarily in the interests of the affairs of the city, and our appearance here will not continue through these base personal attacks." He continued, "as long as we are here we are entitled to each and every privilege and protection of the rules according to council. " Council President Garofoli reminded him that he was not "protected by council rules until you're elected to council." Stokes responded angrily, "what you have said is that ± e same standard will not be afforded to the administration. I must insist that the privileges and protections be equal. You have made it quite clear, and I am going to instruct my cabinet members to remove themselves from council chambers, and we will not return until the same standards are extended to both branches of government." Stokes then instructed his cabinet to leave, and as he was leaving he shouted, "I don't want to get caught up on rules-l'm just asking for respect." Stokes' protest marked one of the only times that a mayor has staged a walkout from council.^'*^ Gaul defended his attack on Stallworth by labeling it "a very definitive businesslike presentation of the facts and an expression of my personal conclusions." He went on to reveal that "the managers of the two stores I complained about admitted the offense and I have obtained the needed evidence." Evidence, which in his mind was "corroborated" city

Call and Post, 27 February 71; Cleveland Press, 23 February 71; Plain Dealer, 23 February 71.

371 scales. Gaul then went on to suggest that Stokes was inflating the entire issue just to make a public relations stand, "I think the mayor was looking for something to walkout about and this just happened to be the thing that triggered it." Garofoli also saw nothing wrong with the attack by Gaul; "I can and did offer the mayor every courtesy. I will not permit the Mayor or any member of his administration to be subject to improper or personal attacks, but I can't shelter him from criticism, or permit him to censure a councilman." Garofoli felt that Stokes was asking "that there be no public criticism of his administration." Stokes supporters saw the issue in completely different terms. They were looking at the controversy through the lens of race, and they supported Stokes' decision to boycott the meetings. Repubhcan Councilman Virgil Brown labeled council's actions "a terrible disgraceful performance," while expressing his concern about "the open racism being heard on council floor." Councilman James Bell noted that he had not heard or seen anything "like the kind of tactics that have been tolerated in council during the past several years in a deliberate attempt to make the city's first black administration under a black man look bad." Rev. Roger Shoupe of Calvary Presbyterian Church called the situation "unfortunate" and "disappointing," but Rev. John T. Weeden of St. Timothy Missionary Baptist Church was not at all surprised: "disregard of the sensitivity of Cleveland's black citizens is not uncommon with this council...and this disrespect has been experienced on more than one occasion, it all adds up to blatant racism." "Tragic," and "pitiful," was how local Urban League director Emest Cooper labeled the controversy, while Attorney Stanley Tolliver called the performance of Gaul and Garofoli "racist." Metropolitan Affairs Commission Director Hilbert Perry argued that Garofoli got a kick out of his "white- bigoted games," but wamed, that the black community "is getting sick and tired of our mayor being made the sacrificial lamb on the prye of racism." Republican councilman John Kellogg probably placed the entire episode into context when he stated: "I can't recall any mayor who has had to put up with the kind of disrespect and sniping that has been

372 accorded Mayor Stokes and his cabinet by city council." After the walkout Stokes and Garofoli held several unproductive meetings and for the remainder of his tenure Stokes and his cabinet were not at the Monday night council sessions. This event foreshadowed his decision not to seek a third term. VI At a dinner party on April 16th Stokes announced to fifty of his close friends and advisers that he would not seek another term. Stokes then went to Channel 5 to tape a public announcement. "I have decided not to seek a third term as Mayor of the City of Cleveland," said Stokes, who went on to say that his fourteen year political career had been devoted to "bringing more citizens into the governmental process," and also bringing "out into the open the real issues and problems confironting our urban society." He then closed his remarks by commenting that he wanted to devote more of his time to expanding his efforts "to assist others, particularly the locked-in minority groups to better understand their role in government and politics. After three and a half years as mayor of the ninth largest city in the country Stokes had taken enough. Surely when he took office in 1967 he could not have imagined the obstacles that would confront his administration. And by April 1971 with seven months remaining in his term he came to the conclusion that he would not seek another term. Many of the guests at his party were surprised, although some probably expected the decision. Once the decision reached his political foes they either expressed shock, surprise, or joy. When Garofoli was notified he had "no comment" other than admitting that he was shocked. Others such as black conservative Jack Oliver and Councilman Theodore Silwa commented that they didn't think Stokes was serious, "we just have to wait and see what the mayor really wants," said Oliver. "I won't believe it until I see it," echoed Silwa,

Statement by Carl B. Stokes, re: Decision not to seek a third term, Container 52, Folder 976, CBS Papers;

373 because I'm used to the mayor making remarks and then they don't come to pass." Black business-owner William Seawright, one-time Stokes supporter saw his announcement as "an old political trick. He wants to stir the black community into an emotional pitch to create a draft movement. This is not good for the city, not good for the country." Other councUmen were elated that Stokes was not running again; Councilman Joseph Lombardo was confident that Stokes’ exit would "clear the way for a mayor that will be good for all the people of the city." Ward Fourteen Councilman Joseph Kowalski felt that Stokes' decision "will be beneficial to him personally and to the city." Local attorney John P. Butler was ecstatic when he heard the news: "It's the greatest thing to happen to Cleveland since street lighting." Others such as Michael Zone believed that Stokes' bail-out was part of a predetermined plan to leave the city in horrible condition. "The city is in a terrible

financial situation, and for him to leave at this time...l don't know...1 think he should have stayed around and not walked away from the people. It's unfair. He's polarized the city." City Council Budget Analyst Andrew Bass was equally critical, "he gets us in trouble and then he runs away." Geraldine Williams, former assistant to Stokes, was pleased that her estranged friend was not seeking a third term: "he left a lot of people out on a limb, including his councilmen. It will take a long time to pull the black community together again. Who wants this city after the mess Carl got it in?"^^^ The black working-class, who had considered Stokes' four-year tenure as a logical extension of their continuing battle for equality were disappointed but supportive of their mayor's decision to bow out. Many of those polled stated that they had grown tired of seeing Stokes attacked. An unidentified Cedar Avenue man blamed Stokes' decision on "the racist councilmen and the envious blacks who know they couldn't do as well as the mayor." He also predicted that black municipal employees would be laid off and the "cops

Plain Dealer 17 April 71.

374 will be turned loose." Another unidentified black resident believed that "if blacks and whites had gotten behind him from the start, he could have done something." Mrs. Nonie Fuller, a Glenville housewife was "glad he's not miming. His own people criticized him too much. I thought he was an excellent mayor, but let somebody else have those headaches. He can use the rest." Frank Gorman of East 119th St. concurred: "I agree with the mayor's decision. He was not getting a fair deal from city council at all. He should have quit a long time ago. Let the next mayor see what he can accomplish under those circumstances." Lowell Bradley, a machine operator argued that Stokes' decision was best, "he might have done a better job if the people had only given him full support," he explained, "for black people things will get alot worse without him." Greenlawn Ave. resident Bradley Wilkinson echoed Bradley's prediction: "he kept things calm during his term, and he tried to do what he could for people in need. Now you can expect things to get heated in some areas." Although many of the respondents were in agreement with Stokes' decision, others were "hurt." Fredericka Bradshaw of E. 140th St. thought Stokes failed to "give himself enough time to accomplish all he set out to do." Bradford Tabor was equally disappointed: "Mayor Stokes made a bad decision. He should mn again. The city needs him. Cleveland was nowhere before he took office and now it will become a nowhere place when he leaves. In contrast to the response of the black poor and working-class, many white residents were quite pleased at Stokes' armouncement. West-side resident Francis Gavin stated that "this is the best news we've heard in the last four years, I hope the city comes back again. It couldn't get much worse." Another resident was equally elated, " I am glad, he wasn't doing a good job." George Tuttle was overjoyed because Stokes "wasn't doing much for the city." West-side homeowner Mary Koselica was "happy," in her opinion

Plain Dealer, 18 April 71.

375 "there was too much favoritism under Stokes." Charles Sefcek contended that the "city has been going downhill under his leadership." On-duty police and Are personnel were also enthusiastic about the news. "It’s good for the city to have a change of mayors...may be now the city will be able to get more money. This will be a boost to police and all other safety departments, " explained one policeman. A veteran fireman believed that with Stokes' decision not to seek another term, the city would then be able to "move forward after moving backward for these years." When asked his opinion about Stokes' decision, one policeman simply stated: "I'm smiling all over."^'*'^ With Stokes' announcement many political experts wondered if Stokes would serve out his term. But Stokes quickly put an end to these questions by stating that he plaimed to serve out his term for several reasons. Particularly so he could find a suitable replacement, and so he could help the rebel caucus in city council. Stokes' decision to leave city hall in November sent shock waves throughout the political community as pohticians began to think about the subsequent political ramifications. Since Stokes had unified the black community many of his supporters did not want to lose this hard fought momentum. Black Councilman Paul T. Haggard was certain that "we ain't going back to business as usual now that Stokes is leaving." Another Stokes supporter Councilman Virgil Brown stated that "the black community has seen what political power means. We will come up with a candidate who wül be responsive and a voice for disadvantaged people." Rev. Don Jacobs complimented Brown's comments by assuring a local reporter that the black community would be "working hard for the next few days to build for the future." East Cleveland City Manager Gladstone Chandler felt that it would be a "shame" if a black candidate failed to succeed Stokes. But others were not as confident that Stokes could be replaced. Rev. Enunanuel S. Branch did not "see anyone on the horizon" to step into Stokes' shoes, while

Plain Dealer, 17 April 71.

376 Rev. Jonathan Ealy was unequally certain if the black community could make a "smooth transition" to another candidate. Councilman Carrie Cain felt that the mayor’s departure presented an opportunity for the community to mature: "There is only one Carl Stokes, now the rest of the leadership must take a stronger stand." When pondering the political effects of Stokes' announcement. Councilman George Forbes stated eloquently, "there is no more Mayor Stokes." Stokes' decision not to run again was supported by the black working-class. Now the black community would have to search for an adequate replacement through the efforts of the Twenty-First District Caucus.^'** VII One of the reasons Stokes chose to announce his decision in April was to use the months leading up to the election to train a replacement. Since leaving the county democrats in the Spring of 1970 the Caucus had not shifted in their stance for more representation. Actually, in the wake of the 1970 election day showing Stokes and his brother Louis were almost certain that they would play a decisive role in the 1971 elections, so in some ways they had little desire to enter back into the party fold. In the aftermath of the 1970 elections. Democratic Party Chair Joseph Bartunek made several overtures toward getting the Caucus, with its large black voter base, back into the organization for the all- important mayoral and council races. But with Stokes' declaration that he would not seek another term the Caucus realized they could run their own candidate. Weeks after Stokes' announcement Bartunek held a series of "secret" segregated meetings with Democratic officials to discuss possible mayoral candidates. The meetings were "segregated" in that the first meeting of so-called top area democrats was exclusive of black representation, while the only invitees to the second meeting were black councilmembers. Ironically, Bartunek was trying to bring them back into the fold without

548 Ibid.

377 the Stokes brothers, because neither brother was invited to either meeting. This "mayoral power play" caused black leaders to react strongly. When asked about the meeting Stokes stated that "no courtesies were extended to me whatsoever." Councilman William Franklin yelled "hell no!" when asked if he had been invited to the first meeting. Councilman Charlie Carr, who was obviously upset at not being notified of the meeting remarked that he did not "have anything to say about it." One week later Bartunek held a meeting with the black councilpersons, but only three accepted the invitation. In attendance were Charlie Carr, a Stokes supporter, and Warren Gilliam and Mary Yates, who were not supportive of the administration. After this meeting failed to produce any results, Bartunek then met with Congressman Louis Stokes with hopes of ironing out the problems. The Caucus still wanted considerable representation throughout the party. "If meaningful changes are made and the blacks can see that it is to their advantage to return to the party, it could be done," said the Congressman. Other than meeting these demands, there was little chance of them retuming.549

An opportunity for the Democratic party to concede to the demands came in early May when a vacancy arose on the county elections board. But, instead of naming an African-American to the post, the county organization recommended party chair Bartunek. The Caucus immediately decided to remain independent. In mid-May school board president and former Stokes assistant Arnold Pinkney announced his candidacy for mayor, and in early August he received the influential endorsement of the Caucus. The recently- elected school board president was close friends with the Stokes brothers and was also active in a number of political campaigns. Thus, in the eyes of many Caucus supporters he was seen as a logical replacement. As one of Carl Stokes' chief lieutenants over the years, he probably knew the inner-workings of city hall more than anyone else. Plus, in his

549 Cleveland Press, 29 April 71, I May 71; Call and Post, 1 May 71.

378 position as school board president he was visible on both sides of the Cuyahoga River. When the Pinkney candidacy was announced there was some uncertainty over whether or not he would run as an Independent or a Democrat. Since the Democratic race was filled with several candidates including Garofoli, the odds-on favorite, and millionaire James Carney, long-time Stokes supporter, the mayor decided to run Pinkney as an Independent, largely in hopes that a three candidate race would allow Pinkney to win the election by virtue of a split white vote. Plus, by ruruiing as an Independent Pinkney would not face the certain defection of white Democrats to the Republican ranks in the general election.^^® Before embarking on a three-week trip to Europe Stokes gave Pinkney his personal endorsement in front of a crowd of several hundred at the Cleveland Hotel-Sheraton. "I am for Pinkney because he is the most qualifled...he makes decisions without regard to politics," said Stokes, "he walked with me when some would not walk with me. He walked with me when nobody believed a black man could be elected to office." But Stokes wamed the crowd that Pinkney would face adversity: "Pinkney is going to need a great deal of support and understanding. He is following in the pattern of a man who created issues in this town. Just because this man is a Negro, he will have to pay the price for some of my failures and received some of the hostilities felt toward me." In closing his brief remarks, Stokes stated that Pinkney was the man for the office because city hall was "not the place for scalawags and Toms," but rather for someone who had a commitment to the black community.551

The overwhelming favorite for the Democratic nomination was City Council President Anthony Garofoli. Millionaire James Camey, a liberal, also expected to get

Cleveland Press, 16 June 71, 17 July 71; Plain Dealer 17 July 71; William E. Nelson, Jr., "The Rise and Fall of the New Black Politics," in The New Black Politics: The Search for Political Power, (New York: Longman, Inc., ), pp. 187- 205. Plain Dealer, 14 August 71.

379 considerable support. In the Republican camp County Auditor Ralph Perk was the strong favorite. Since Garofoli was the odds-on choice for the Democratic nomination, Stokes employed a dangerous strategy. He asked black voters to support Camey in the primary for the purpose of removing Garofoli. On the eve of the primary election Congressman Stokes emphasized why Garofoli had to be defeated: "I don't know how you can tell people who cannot eat or walk on Murray Hill (Little Italy) that you want to be their mayor." While the Caucus was openly calling for Garofoli's defeat, they also came out against several black councilmembers such as Warren Gilliam, Clarence Thompson, and Mary Yates. In essence the Caucus was acting like a full-scale political machine.s^z VIII The Twenty-First District Caucus reached full political maturity on primary day 1971 as James Carney won the Democratic nomination by an astounding 14,000 votes. Carney's margin of victory came in the black community where he received over 95% of the black vote. The Caucus flexed its muscle in the council races as Thompson, Yates, and Gilliam went down to defeat to Caucus-backed candidates. Following the strong primary day success of the Caucus, supporters showed up at the Lancer restaurant for an all-night celebration. Fleet Slaughter, owner of the Lancer declared that "this vote lets the white voters know how far out of touch they are with the black community and its new political awareness." Baxter Hill stated that the black community's effort to defeat Garofoli showed a "within the system response to the atrocities of Murray Hill." Attorney Stanley Tolliver was really surprised at the efforts of the Caucus, particularly the Stokes brothers, "admittedly I didn't believe it would happen...but the Stokes brothers delivered the black vote."553

In expressing joy at Garafoli's defeat Stokes felt that the "city had shown it wants

552 Plain Dealer, 13 August 71; Cleveland Press, 13 August 71, 24 September 71. 553 Cleveland Press, 29 September 71; Plain Dealer, 30 September 71.

380 to avoid the divisive, corrosive, degrading campaign that it would have had if the other candidate (Garofoli) had been nominated." Stokes also told the crowd that he was glad his black council foes had been defeated: "Those in council who have for so long been against forward movement and who would continue plantation politics have been reduced to the anonymity they richly deserve." But the best comments of the evening came from an unidentified supporter who stated, "black voters didn't know their own power while they were voting yesterday...Cleveland’s black community has finally come of age as a voting instrument." Pinkney saw a larger issue in the results: "It shows that people in the district follow the leadership of their elected officials. It means that any person running for office in the city is going to have to relate the concerns and programs of the Caucus, and the same goes for the county. In the aftermath of the election Stokes' national popularity reached new heights as the Caucus primary showing illustrated the transition from personalized to institutionalized power. The idea that Stokes had literally picked the Democratic nominee astounded political experts who probably had little idea that Stokes would seek to control the local political scene. However, Stokes was just continuing a long tradition in ethnic politics. As the Caucus candidate, Pinkney received several endorsements including tlie influential approval of the Plain Dealer. Based largely upon his service on the school board, the editor of the Plain Dealer had "no hesitation in recommending Pinkney for election as mayor." The readers of the Plain Dealer were told by the editor that Pinkney had the "drive and diplomacy" needed to improve the city. The editors also suggested that Pinkney would work for the "common good" to overcome "hostilities." In closing, the editorial read: "He is not a confrontational politician. He has established a record of cooperation, compromise, and statesmanship on the school board, while dealing with the

Cleveland Press, 29 September 71;

381 most sensitive needs of the city." By labeling Pinkney a non-confrontationalist, the editor was taking a shot at Stokes. Apparently, this editor was willing to support another black mayor, but perhaps one he thought would go along with the status quo. As the election grew closer Stokes made a point to emphasize that Pinkney would not be a puppet. "Pinkney will not be another Stokes, but will build an administration in his own image...he has different strengths from me and he doesn't suffer from many of my weaknesses," said Stokes. While on the campaign trail Pinkney set forth his platform, which included reorganizing city hall, reforming the police department, and tax incentives for the development of public housing. In contrast. Perk's platform centered on law-and-order. Camey did not offer a specific program, signaling to many late in the campaign that he was not prepared to tackle the job of running the city.^ss

As election day approached the Pinkney team began to second-guess their strategy because they were realizing that it was difficult to convince people to change their vote. Stokes' pre-primary letters and phone calls telling black voters to defeat Garofoli by voting for Camey had a tremendous hold on black voters. A sizable percentage of the black electorate did not understand that they were supposed to vote for Pinkney. To overcome this obstacle, the Pinkney team held marches, rallies, and festivals, to get the word out for Pinkney. In the week before the election Jesse Jackson and Aretha Franklin came to Cleveland in hopes of capturing the spirit of the voters. But it was too late, with so much emphasis placed on defeating Garofoli, black voters were confused. Plus, the excitement and charisma of the three previous mayoral elections could not be matched. On election day Perk coasted to a 15,000 vote victory as he took advantage of the split black vote. He received 88,774 votes to Pinkney's 72,785, and Carney's 65,877. On the black East side Camey received a remarkable 20% of the black vote, and Pinkney's minuscule 5% support

Zannes, "Checkmate, " pp. 246-247.

382 from the white community could not make up the difference. Thus, the margin of victory lay in the black wards. Perk's election marked the first time a Republican had been elected to city hall in three decades. But unfortunately for black voters it signaled the decline of black political power at the local Ievel.556

556 Call and Post, 6 November 71; Cleveland Press, 3 November 71, 4 November 71, 5 November 71; Plain Dealer, 3 November 71, 4 November 71; Nelson, "Rise and Fall,"; Zannes, "Checkmate."

383 CONCLUSION

For Cleveland's black community the period after World War II triggered a renewed quest for civil rights and political power. As the black population tripled in the two decades after 1940 they faced considerable oppression as they grew to represent an ever increasing share of the city's overall population. For southern migrants in search of better social and economic opportunities Cleveland was not the promised land. Although black migrants escaped Jim-Crow, de jure segregation, and political disfranchisement, they found similar arrangements on Cleveland's East side. Upon arrival they discovered a constrained housing market, job discrimination, unfair police protection, and inferior educational opportunities. To successfully combat these issues, Cleveland's black residents relied upon direct-action mass protest. Throughout the period they were consistent in conducting sit-ins, staging rallies, picketing, and holding rent strikes to illustrate their dissatisfaction with the political, social, and economic climate on the East side. By relying upon older civil-rights organizations such as the NAACP, the local Urban League, the Future Outlook League, and newer protest groups such as the United Freedom Movement and CORE, black Clevelanders were successful in drawing attention to their plight. However, although the city's power structure was well aware of the racism affecting one-third of the city's population, they rarely, if ever, sought to resolve these issues. By turning a deaf ear to the complaints of the black poor, the city's political establishment indirectly encouraged black voters to seek pohtical power with hopes of reforming the political process. This renewed emphasis upon

384 political participation inspired black voters to make history by electing the first black mayor of a major city, Carl Burton Stokes.

Bom in 1927 in the East side ghetto of Cleveland, Stokes was familiar with the conditions facing the black poor. He made history in1962 as the first black democrat to sit in the Ohio Statehouse and throughout his tenure at the State Capitol he gained a reputation as a liberal democrat and a staunch defender of the urban poor. His popularity as a state representative encouraged him to seek the mayor's office in1965 where he was narrowly defeated by less than 1.0% of the vote. Two years later however, he made history. As the first black mayor of a major city Stokes entered office under conflicting mandates. His white supporters expected him to "keep blacks in line," while the black poor and working-class required that Stokes "get whitey," and supply them with infinite entitlements. Since Stokes considered his election the logical extension of the local civil rights drive, he had little trouble satisfying the political demands of the black community. He gave all segments of the black community a voice in the city's affairs, and he retained his white support by preventing the outbreak of racial violence. But this delicate balancing act came to an end during his ninth month in office when Glenville erupted. In the aftermath of the Glenville riot Stokes' legislative efforts were met with stiff opposition. City Council, the Fraternal Order of Police, and the black middle-class, would effectively hinder many of Stokes' initiatives. As a result of this consistent resistance Stokes would leave office without achieving meaningful change. But in spite of these legislative roadblocks the Stokes administration did register several victories. In the area of public housing Stokes built 4206 units, which represented more than 50% more units than in the previous three decades. Stokes also secured passage of the nation's first Equal Employment Opportunity law which required minority participation with firms seeking city contracts. The mayor was also successful in enacting a $100 million water pollution bond issue. Lastly, Stokes brought 270 minorities into municipal supervisory and skilled

385 positions along with hundreds of others into unskilled positions as well. But Stokes' chief achievement which cannot be quantified is simple: his pioneering style of black mayoral leadership.

Upon taking office Stokes immediately initiated new missions and programs for the city of Cleveland. The establishment of Cleveland Now!, his attempts at police reforms, and his housing plans, represented a bold new approach to urban governance. Stokes was not content with merely holding office; he insisted upon using his power to redevelop Cleveland's dying iimer-city. In carrying out his plans Stokes solicited help from federal officials, the city's business elite, and the black poor. With their support Stokes hoped to lead Cleveland's revival and in the process improve the material conditions of lower-class blacks. However, Stokes was unable to fulfill his legislative plans largely because of the obstacles created by his political enemies. But unfortunately, the mayor must shoulder some of the responsibility for some of his failures. Although Stokes was chiefly responsible for several key appointments such as Richard Green and Irving Kriegsfeld, he must also be held accountable for the appointments of Pat Gerity, Daniel EUenburg, and General Benjamin O. Davis, Jr. His failure to conduct the requisite background checks cost him a great deal of political capital. Likewise, Stokes' inability to adjust his managerial style after the Glenville riots was also a serious error. As the public perception toward his administration grew increasingly negative, his coalition became fractured. However, Stokes continued to govern as if he was still operating in the honeymoon period. But perhaps Stokes' inability to alter his confrontational leadership style illustrates both his stubbornness and his unwavering commitment to the needs of the black poor. It is possible that Stokes believed that for him to change his approach was tantamount to selling out those that place him in office. Because Stokes knew the complex nature of race and politics he refused to sacrifice his

386 principles for political expediency. Rather, in standing for principle he embraced political skirmishes. Regardless of one's opinion on Stokes’ leadership style one thing can not be overlooked: his attempt to institutionalize his power. The mayor realized that to a large extent much the black community had invested much of their political capital into him. By establishing the Twenty-First District Caucus Stokes hoped to keep Cleveland City Hall in black hands. He realized that the black poor needed an advocate long after he exited the pohtical scene. Although Stokes was unsuccessful in keeping city hah under black control, he nevertheless served as a mentor to aspiring black pohticians. Knowing how difficult it was to operate a city without the help of someone who actually knew the congested terrain of urban pohtics, Stokes refused to let subsequent black mayors experience on-the-job training. During his tenure many black pohticians such as Kenneth Gibson of Newark, Maynard Jackson of Atlanta, Coleman Young of Detroit, and Emest Morial of New Orleans, sohcited advice from Stokes. As Professor Stokes taught "Black Mayor 101" he inevitably placed great emphasis upon the many obstacles he faced as the first black mayor of a major city. Moreover, he cautioned them about unrealistic expectations, because he knew firsthand the hmits of black power.

387 BIBLIOGRAPHY

A. Manuscript Collections Collections at the Western Reserve Historical Society: Anthony J. Celebreeze Papers Cleveland Mayoral Papers Cleveland NAACP Papers Cleveland Now! Papers Cleveland Urban League Papers Community Relations Board Papers Russell H. Davis Papers Lowell Henry Papers Hough Area Development Corporation Papers Bruce Klunder Papers Ralph Locher Papers Rev. Bill McKinney Papers Operation Black Unity Papers Ralph Perk Papers Carl B. Stokes Papers

Collections at Moorland-Spingam Research Center, Howard University: William O. Walker Papers

Files at the Cleveland Press Archives, Cleveland State University: Alexander H. Martin Files

B. Newspapers Cleveland Call and Post

388 Cleveland Gazette Cleveland Plain Dealer Cleveland Press New York Times

C. Dissertations. Theses. Unpublished Papers Davis, Russell H. Cleveland in 1912-1961: An Account of the Cleveland Branch of the NAACP. Russell H. Davis Papers, WRHS. Final Report of the Citizens Panel on the Hough/Superior Disturbances. Cleveland Public Library. Hough Grand Jury Report on the Superior/Hough Disturbances. Cleveland Public Library. Lackritz, Marc. The Hough Riots. Cleveland Public Library Report of the Special Grand Jury Report Relating to the Hough Riots. Cleveland Public Library. Stevenson, Marshall F. "It will take more than official pronouncement: The American Federation of Labor and the Black Worker, 1935-1955." October 1996. Viehe, Fred. "Carl B. Stokes: The First Black Mayor of a Major City." October 1989.

Gruss, Angela. An Historical Investigation of the Influx of the Negro in Cleveland into its Cultural Pattern. M.A. Thesis, St. John's College, 1949. Jirran, Raymond. Cleveland and the Negro Following World War 11. Ph.D. Dissertation, Kent State University, 1973. Rose, Kenneth. The Politics of Social Reform in Cleveland. Ph.D. Dissertation, Case Western Reserve University, 1987. Phillips, Kim. Heaven Bound. Ph.D. Dissertation, Yale University, 1992. Weber, David. Negro Voting Behavior in Cleveland. M.A. Thesis, Kent State University, 1971. Wye, Christopher. Midwest Ghetto: Patterns of Negro Life and Thought in Cleveland, Ohio, 1929-1945, Ph.D. Dissertation, Kent State University, 1976.

D . B ooks Avery, Elroy. A History of Cleveland and its Environs. New York: Lewis Publishing Company, 1918. Benton, Elbert J. Cleveland: Cultural Story of an American City. Cleveland: Western Reserve Historical Society, 1944. Campbell, Thomas and Edward Miggins, eds. The Birth of Modem Cleveland. Cleveland: Western Reserve Historical Society, 1988.

389 Chapman, Edmund. Cleveland: Village to Metropolis. Cleveland: Case Western Reserve University, 1964.

Chatteqee, Prenab. Local Leadership in Black Communities. Cleveland: Case Western Reserve University Press, 1975. Condon, George.Cleveland: The Best Kept Secret. New York: Doubleday, 1967. Cooper, Ernest C.The Negro in Cleveland: An Analysis o f the Social and Economic Characteristics o f the Negro Population, 1950-1963. Cleveland: Cleveland Urban League, 1964. Davis, Russell H. Black Americans in Cleveland from George Peake to Carl Stokes, 1796-1969. Washington: Associated Publishers, 1985. Memorable Negroes in Cleveland’s Past. Cleveland: Western Reserve Historical Society. Black Americans in Cleveland. Washington: ASALH, 1969. Dulaney, W. Marvin. Black Police in America. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1996. Gerber, David. Black Ohio and the Color Line. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1976. Hampton, Henry and Steve Payer, eds. Voices of Freedom: An Oral History o f the Civil Rights Movement from the 1950s through the 1980s.New York: Bantam Books 1990. Jones, Adrienne Lash. Jane Edna Hunter. Washington, Associated Publishers, 1987. Keagan, Frank. Blacktown U.S.A. Boston: Little, Brown, and Company, 1971. Keating, Dennis, et al., eds. Cleveland: A Metropolitan Reader. Kent: Kent State University Press, 1996. Kleppner, Paul. Chicago Divided: The Making of a Black Mayor. Dekalb: Northern University Press, 1985. Krumholz, Norman. Making Equity Planning Work. Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1990. Kusmer, Kenneth. A Ghetto Takes Shape. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1976. Loeb, Charles. The Future is Yours. Cleveland: Future Outlook League, 1949. Malvin, John. Autobiography of John Malvin. Cleveland: Leader Printing Company, 1879. Masotti, Louis and Jerome Corsi.Shoot-out in Cleveland: Black Militants and the Police, July 23,1968. Washington: US Government Printing Office, 1969. Nelson, William E., Jr., and Philip Meranto. Electing Black Mayors.Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1977. Porter, Philip. Cleveland: Confused City on a See-Saw. Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1976. Rich, Wilbur. Coleman Young and Detroit Politics. Detroit: Wayne State University

390 Press, 1989. Rose, William Ganson. Cleveland: The Making of a City. Kent: Kent State University Press, 1990. Rudwick, Elliott.Race Riot at E. St. Louis. Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, ???? Sonenshein, Raphael. Politics in Black and White. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1993. Stokes, Carl B.Promises of Power. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1973. Stone, Clarence. Regime Politics. Lawrence: University of Kansas Press, 1989. U.S. Commission on Civil Rights. Hearing Held in Cleveland, Ohio. Washington: U.S. Government Printing Office, 1966. Van Tassell, David and John Grabowski, eds. Cleveland: A Tradition of Reform. Kent: Kent State University Press, 1986...... The Encyclopedia of Cleveland History. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1991. Weinberg, Kenneth. Black Victory. New York: Quadrangle Books, 1968. Whittelsey, George. Early History of Cleveland. Cleveland: Publishing Company, 1867. Zannes, Estelle. Checkmate in Cleveland, Cleveland: Case Western Reserve University Press, 1972.

E. Articles Masotti, Louis. "The Making of the Negro Mayors: 1967," in Richard P. Young, ed.. Roots of Rebellion: The Evolution of Black Politics and Protest Since World War II. New York: Harper and Row, 1970. Wye, Christopher. "The Black Woker and the Labor Movement in Cleveland, 1930- 1945: Forging a New Relationship," in Kenneth Kusmer, ed.. Black Communities and Urban Development in America, 1776-1990. New York: Greenwood Press, 1971. "The New Deal and the Negro Community: Toward a Broader Conceptualization, in the Journal of American History, v. 59, no. 3, 1972.

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