Notícia

Violência irrompe em Boston por causa da desagregação de ônibus

Violência irrompe em Boston por causa da desagregação de ônibus

Em Boston, Massachusetts, a oposição ao “ônibus” escolar ordenado pelo tribunal torna-se violenta no dia de abertura das aulas. Os ônibus escolares que transportavam crianças afro-americanas foram bombardeados com ovos, tijolos e garrafas, e a polícia em equipamento de combate lutou para controlar os manifestantes brancos furiosos que cercavam as escolas.

O juiz distrital dos EUA, Arthur Garrity, ordenou o transporte de alunos afro-americanos para escolas predominantemente brancas e de alunos brancos para escolas negras em um esforço para integrar as escolas públicas geograficamente segregadas de Boston. Em sua decisão de junho de 1974 em Morgan v. Hennigan, Garrity afirmou que a segregação escolar de fato em Boston discriminava as crianças negras. O início do ônibus forçado em 12 de setembro foi recebido com protestos massivos, especialmente em South Boston, o principal bairro católico irlandês da cidade. Os protestos continuaram ininterruptos por meses, e muitos pais, brancos e negros, mantiveram seus filhos em casa. Em outubro, a Guarda Nacional foi mobilizada para fazer cumprir a ordem federal de dessegregação.

LEIA MAIS: O que levou ao barramento de dessegregação - e isso funcionou?


A controvérsia sobre ônibus

Use esta narrativa para vincular o movimento dos direitos civis afro-americanos a outros movimentos pelos direitos civis durante as décadas de 1960 e 1970, incluindo Latinx, LGBTQ, mulheres e índios americanos.

& # 8220Separado, mas igual & # 8221 tinha sido a lei da terra desde o Plessy v. Ferguson decisão de 1896 afirmou o sistema de segregação racial sancionada pelo estado no Sul e em algumas partes do Norte que os historiadores chamaram de & # 8220Jim Crow. & # 8221 Essa política foi claramente vista na educação pública, com escolas separadas para alunos brancos e negros que dificilmente eram iguais. No Brown v. Conselho de Educação (1954), a Suprema Corte decidiu por unanimidade que & # 8220 no campo da educação pública, a doutrina de & # 8216separate mas igual & # 8217 não tem lugar. Instalações educacionais separadas são inerentemente desiguais & # 8221. No ano seguinte, em seu Brown II decisão, o Tribunal declarou que a dessegregação deve acontecer & # 8220 com toda a rapidez deliberada & # 8221 um termo repleto de grande ambigüidade.

Linda Brown, a estudante no centro do marco Brown v. Conselho de Educação decisão, frequentou a escola primária Monroe, toda negra, em Topeka, Kansas. O edifício foi posteriormente designado como Local Histórico Nacional Brown v. Board of Education em 1992.

Os sulistas brancos entenderam que não havia urgência na desagregação da escola, e poucas escolas do sul foram integradas imediatamente após o marrom decisões. Em vez disso, os sulistas brancos seguiram uma política de & # 8220 resistência maciça & # 8221 à integração, que incluía alguns distritos do sul fechando suas escolas públicas em vez de se integrarem. Em 1956, aproximadamente 100 membros do Congresso assinaram o & # 8220 Manifesto Sulista & # 8221 opondo-se à Suprema Corte & # 8217s marrom decisão como um & # 8220 claro abuso de poder judicial. & # 8221

Em 1957, a tentativa do Conselho de Educação de Little Rock, Arkansas, de integrar sua escola secundária pública com nove estudantes afro-americanos encontrou forte resistência dos brancos locais e do governador Orval Faubus. Em resposta, o presidente Dwight D. Eisenhower ordenou unidades do Exército & # 8217s 101st Airborne a Little Rock para proteger os estudantes negros e garantir que o plano de integração fosse implementado.

No nível de base, o marrom decisão ajudou a pavimentar o caminho para o fim das leis de Jim Crow, dando início ao movimento pelos direitos civis que acabou levando ao histórico Civil Rights Act de 1964 e Voting Rights Act de 1965. Ainda assim, no início dos anos 1960, a resistência branca à integração significava que apenas uma pequena porcentagem de crianças negras frequentava escolas integradas no sul. Depois que as escolas foram legalmente integradas, fatores residenciais e demográficos muitas vezes significavam que muitos alunos afro-americanos ainda frequentavam escolas em sua maioria negras. No Sul, depois do marrom decisão, os brancos também criaram escolas particulares para seus filhos que não tinham que cumprir a integração ordenada pela justiça, portanto, havia menos alunos brancos matriculados nas escolas públicas.

Manifestantes fora do capitólio do estado de Arkansas se opõem à integração em 1959.

Charlotte, na Carolina do Norte, havia se mudado cedo para integrar suas escolas. No entanto, os padrões de habitação residencial significavam que os alunos negros se concentravam principalmente na área central de Charlotte e frequentassem escolas, em sua maioria para negros, mesmo depois que a segregação legal havia acabado. A maioria dos alunos brancos vivia fora do centro da cidade e frequentavam escolas principalmente para brancos. A NAACP desafiou essas escolas racialmente desequilibradas no tribunal, e um juiz ordenou que a cidade elaborasse um plano para integrar as escolas. O caso chegou ao Supremo Tribunal Federal, que decidiu por unanimidade em Swann v. Charlotte-Mecklenburg Board of Education (1971) que o ônibus era uma ferramenta legítima para alcançar a integração racial nas escolas.

Em Charlotte e em muitas outras cidades do sul, planos de ônibus foram implementados para transportar crianças brancas e negras entre distritos e bairros para garantir que todas as escolas fossem racialmente equilibradas, o que significa que eles tinham uma mistura apropriada de alunos de ambas as raças, conforme determinado pelos tribunais. Simplesmente acabar com a segregação sancionada pelo Estado nas escolas não era mais suficiente. Os tribunais agora estavam se afastando das ações neutras em relação à raça que haviam acabado com a segregação de jure e em direção à aplicação de cotas raciais para escolas individuais. Os tribunais também estavam se tornando mais ativos na elaboração de planos de dessegregação para escolas específicas e até mesmo assumindo as funções básicas dos distritos escolares locais, como a designação de professores. Muitos pais que queriam que seus filhos frequentassem escolas públicas próximas de casa pensaram que essas ordens judiciais impunham um fardo injusto para seus filhos e filhas.

Um ônibus integrado em Charlotte, Carolina do Norte em 1973.

Durante a década de 1960, a batalha pela integração escolar começou a se voltar para as cidades do norte, que em grande parte não tinham um sistema legalizado de escolas racialmente segregadas antes de marrom. No entanto, os padrões de habitação residencial, uma crescente população afro-americana no centro da cidade e um correspondente & # 8220 voo branco & # 8221 de residentes de classe média para os subúrbios significava que os distritos urbanos do norte estavam vendo um número crescente de escolas racialmente desequilibradas. Muitas escolas de centros urbanos eram agora cada vez mais ocupadas por alunos, em sua maioria, negros e de minorias. No início da década de 1970, cidades como Denver e Detroit se viram sob planos de desagregação ordenados por tribunais.

Como Detroit nessa época havia se tornado uma cidade de maioria negra, os tribunais inferiores ordenaram um plano de desagregação que consolidaria os distritos escolares suburbanos com o distrito de Detroit, permitindo o transporte de ônibus entre as cidades para alcançar o equilíbrio racial. Na decisão de 1974 Milliken v. Bradley, a Suprema Corte derrubou o plano metropolitano de Detroit imposto pelo tribunal inferior e disse que os distritos suburbanos não poderiam ser forçados a tais planos de dessegregação, desde que não fossem considerados responsáveis ​​por qualquer discriminação aberta. A decisão limitou a extensão das medidas de dessegregação pela primeira vez e significou que quaisquer planos de dessegregação nas cidades do norte teriam que ocorrer dentro das linhas do distrito escolar.

Um dos casos de ônibus mais polêmicos ocorreu em Boston, Massachusetts. A cidade aboliu a segregação legal em suas escolas na década de 1850. No entanto, na década de 1960, à medida que a população afro-americana da cidade cresceu, as escolas de bairro tornaram-se cada vez mais desequilibradas racialmente e muitas das escolas de maioria negra eram vistas como inadequadas e não atendiam às necessidades de seus alunos. Em 1965, a legislatura do estado de Massachusetts aprovou a Lei de Desequilíbrio Racial, que declarava que qualquer escola com mais de 50% de não-brancos era racialmente desequilibrada. Escolas que eram predominantemente brancas & # 8211 ou seja, a maioria das escolas suburbanas & # 8211 não foram incluídas pela lei, o que significa que o impacto da lei & # 8217s foi sentido principalmente em grandes cidades como Boston.

A NAACP desafiou o Comitê Escolar de Boston, argumentando que mantinha ativamente um sistema de segregação racial nas escolas da cidade. O Comitê Escolar de Boston se recusou a admitir que houvesse qualquer problema com o equilíbrio racial nas escolas da cidade. Em 1974, o juiz distrital dos EUA W. Arthur Garrity decidiu a favor da NAACP e descobriu que o Comitê Escolar de Boston promulgou políticas que reforçaram os padrões residenciais de segregação racial na cidade. Garrity ordenou um plano para eliminar a segregação das escolas por meio do redistritamento e do transporte de alunos.

Boston era composta por muitos bairros étnicos brancos estreitos e insulares que se opunham fortemente ao plano do juiz Garrity & # 8217 e apoiavam as escolas locais. Por exemplo, South Boston, um bairro católico irlandês de grande classe trabalhadora, tornou-se um centro de ativismo anti-ônibus. Grupos como o Restore Our Alienated Rights (ROAR) foram formados para se opor ao plano de ônibus. Eles planejaram marchas de protesto e usaram táticas de desobediência civil semelhantes às do movimento pelos direitos civis em um esforço para impedir o plano de ônibus. Plano de ônibus da Garrity & # 8217s & # 8220 emparelhado & # 8221 o bairro predominantemente afro-americano de Roxbury com o bairro predominantemente irlandês-americano de South Boston. South Boston tornou-se o centro da oposição ao ônibus. Os oponentes do ônibus tendiam a ser, em sua maioria, bostonianos brancos da classe trabalhadora, que se sentiam obrigados a suportar o fardo da integração, enquanto os residentes e suburbanos mais ricos eram imunes a seu impacto. A controvérsia sobre ônibus levou ao aumento das tensões raciais entre negros e brancos que ocasionalmente explodiam em violência.

Mais de uma década após a decisão de Garrity & # 8217s, Boston recuperou o controle sobre suas escolas e os últimos resquícios de ônibus escolares em Boston foram finalmente eliminados em 2013. A controvérsia sobre ônibus acelerou a fuga de brancos de Boston, com as escolas perdendo quase 50% de seu corpo discente depois de 1975 e os alunos brancos constituindo menos de 15% da população escolar, ante mais de 60% em 1970. Por todos os anos de controvérsia e protesto, as escolas de Boston e 8217 tinham pouco a mostrar em termos de melhores resultados educacionais para os alunos.

O apoio popular e político ao ônibus declinou em todo o país à medida que os Estados Unidos entraram em uma era politicamente mais conservadora. Em decisões subseqüentes após 1990, a Suprema Corte assumiu casos de desagregação escolar lidando com Oklahoma City, Kansas City e Seattle. Em todos esses casos, o Tribunal se mostrou relutante em remediar escolas com desequilíbrio racial. Em 2000, um juiz federal ordenou que o plano de ônibus escolar de Charlotte, Carolina do Norte, fosse encerrado e substituído por um sistema de escolha de escola. Os tribunais estavam menos dispostos a aceitar políticas explicitamente baseadas na raça, como cotas raciais, para equilibrar racialmente as escolas. A história do ônibus na década de 1970 expôs as falhas raciais na sociedade americana após os sucessos do movimento pelos direitos civis da década de 1960.

Perguntas de revisão

1. Qual das alternativas a seguir compara com precisão a segregação racial nas escolas do norte e do sul?

  1. As escolas do Norte não tinham um sistema legalizado de segregação racial como o do Sul, mas a segregação ainda estava presente.
  2. As escolas do sul aderiram às leis de Jim Crow, assim como as escolas do norte
  3. As escolas do norte implementaram o ônibus voluntariamente, enquanto as escolas do sul não.
  4. Apenas as escolas do sul contestaram os planos de dessegregação nos tribunais.

2. O termo & # 8220 resistência maciça & # 8221 no contexto dos anos 1950 até os anos 1970 no Sul se refere a

  1. os protestos do movimento pelos direitos civis
  2. a ambivalência do Supremo Tribunal Federal sobre a integração racial
  3. protestos anti-guerra do Vietnã
  4. a resistência dos sulistas brancos à integração racial

3. No Swann v. Charlotte-Mecklenburg Board of Education caso (1971), o Supremo Tribunal decidiu que

  1. ônibus escolar foi uma ferramenta constitucional para alcançar a integração racial
  2. planos de ônibus escolares não podiam cruzar para distritos suburbanos
  3. escolas segregadas eram constitucionais, desde que tivessem recursos & # 8220 iguais & # 8221
  4. ônibus escolar para alcançar a dessegregação era inconstitucional

4. Em qual cidade do Nordeste o ônibus escolar para integração gerou reações violentas?

5. Inicialmente, a autoridade para criar uma solução para a integração de escolas públicas nos Estados Unidos foi assumida por

  1. comunidades locais
  2. conselhos escolares eleitos publicamente
  3. o sistema judicial
  4. governos estaduais

6. No caso do Supremo Tribunal Milliken v. Bradley (1974), que cidade foi proibida de forçar os alunos a cruzarem as divisas para conseguir a integração?

7. Inicialmente, além da resistência maciça, os grupos que se opunham ao ônibus baseado em raça usaram todas as seguintes estratégias para evitá-lo, exceto

  1. contra-ações judiciais
  2. & # 8220 voo branco & # 8221
  3. táticas de desobediência civil
  4. formação de grupos ativistas para protestar contra o ônibus forçado

Perguntas de resposta gratuita

  1. Explique por que os tribunais acabaram usando planos de ônibus para integrar escolas públicas.
  2. Descreva as razões para o declínio da popularidade e a eliminação progressiva dos planos de ônibus.

Perguntas Práticas AP

& # 8220 O escopo do transporte permitido de alunos como um instrumento de um decreto corretivo nunca foi definido por este Tribunal. . . Nenhuma orientação rígida quanto ao transporte do aluno pode ser fornecida para aplicação à infinita variedade de problemas apresentados em milhares de situações. O transporte de ônibus tem sido parte integrante do sistema de ensino público por anos e foi talvez o fator mais importante na transição da escola de uma sala para a escola consolidada. . . .

A importância do transporte de ônibus como uma ferramenta normal e aceita de política educacional é facilmente perceptível neste caso e no do companheiro Davis, supra. As autoridades da escola de Charlotte não pretendiam designar alunos com base em zonas geograficamente definidas até 1965 e, então, concederam privilégios de transferência quase ilimitados. A conclusão do Tribunal Distrital de que a designação de crianças para a escola mais próxima de sua casa cumprindo sua série não produziria um desmantelamento efetivo do sistema dual é confirmada pelo registro.

Assim, as técnicas corretivas usadas na ordem do Tribunal Distrital & # 8217s estavam dentro do poder do tribunal para fornecer uma reparação equitativa, a implementação do decreto está dentro da capacidade da autoridade escolar. & # 8221

402 U.S. 1
Swann v. Charlotte-Mecklenburg Board of Education, et al. (No. 281, 349)
Argumentado: 12 de outubro de 1970
Decidido: 20 de abril de 1971

1. O caso da Suprema Corte que influenciou as ideias do trecho foi

  1. Plessy v. Ferguson
  2. Brown v. Conselho de Educação
  3. San Antonio Independent School District v. Rodriguez
  4. Mapp v. Ohio

2. Os sentimentos expressos no trecho contribuíram mais diretamente para

  1. a implementação do ônibus forçado para alcançar a integração racial
  2. o fornecimento de transporte público para a educação pública
  3. garantia de igualdade econômica na educação pública
  4. a aceitação dos valores da Grande Sociedade em todas as facetas da sociedade

3. O contexto mais significativo para os sentimentos no trecho é

  1. direitos civis
  2. igualdade de gênero
  3. reforma da imigração
  4. serviços de transporte integrados

Fontes primárias

Recursos sugeridos

Armor, David J. Justiça Forçada: Desagregação Escolar e a Lei. Nova York: Oxford University Press, 1995.

Baugh, Joyce A. O caso do ônibus escolar de Detroit: Milliken v. Bradley e a controvérsia sobre a dessegregação. Lawrence, KS: University Press of Kansas, 2011.

Delmont, Matthew F. Por que o ônibus falhou: raça, mídia e resistência nacional à dessegregação escolar. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 2016.

Formisano, Ronald P. Boston Against Busing: Race, Class, and Ethnicity nas décadas de 1960 e 1970. Chapel Hill, NC: The University of North Carolina Press, 1991.

Patterson, James T. Brown v. Conselho de Educação: um marco dos direitos civis e seu legado problemático. Nova York: Oxford University Press, 2002.

Smith, Stephen Samuel. Boom para quem? Educação, dessegregação e desenvolvimento em Charlotte. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press, 2004.


Boston Busing Foes Assail Court & # x27s Recusa em Rever o Caso e Sugestão de Violência podem resultar

BOSTON, 11 de junho - “Líderes brancos anti-ônibus denunciaram a recusa da Suprema Corte dos Estados Unidos em revisar a dessegregação escolar ordenada pelo tribunal aqui hoje, e vários fizeram insinuações veladas de que isso iria estimular nova violência.

“Ninguém pode esperar que viva com a injustiça que se amontoa repetidamente contra os bons pais de Boston”, disse a presidente do conselho municipal, Louise Day Hicks. “Eles foram pegos e eles responderão. A Suprema Corte pode ter falado, mas o povo deve governar, e Deus ajude aqueles que os decepcionaram. ”

Elvira Palladino, uma ativista anti-ônibus eleita para o Comitê Escolar de Boston, classificou a decisão como "um erro judiciário".

“Espero que não cause violência na cidade. Provavelmente vai ”, Sra. Palladino sa.3“ Agora as pessoas estão contra a parede, sem ter para onde ir. ”

Duas Vistas Opostas

Thomas Atkins, presidente do capítulo local da Associação Nacional para o Avanço das Pessoas de Cor, que abriu o processo original, disse que a decisão "marcou o fim das contestações à dessegregação".

Mas no centro de informações de South Boston, o quartel-general da resistência do bairro, James Kelly disse que a ação "significa a ruína para a cidade de Boston". Ele disse que haveria um aumento no “atual reinado de terror, medo, apreensão e ódio” e acrescentou: “Enquanto houver ônibus forçados nesta cidade, a violência e o confronto racial são inevitáveis”.

Kelly, o presidente do centro, disse que os políticos negros e grupos de direitos civis “tiveram sucesso em intimidar os poderes de Washington e eles são a principal razão pela qual não há mais justiça para os brancos neste país”.

A Sra. Marie Clarke, presidente da Home and School Association, que protocolou a petição que o Departamento de Justiça estava considerando apoiar, disse que estava "desanimada", mas alertou contra a violência.

Prefeito ‘Decepcionado’ Pede Calma

O prefeito Kevin H. White, que também havia entrado com um recurso, emitiu um comunicado dizendo que estava "profundamente decepcionado", mas acrescentando: "Ações inflamatórias, destinadas apenas a exacerbar tensões já altas, não terão nenhum propósito e não serão toleradas."

A controvérsia sobre o ônibus judicial para a eliminação da segregação escolar nesta cidade velha, orgulhosa e agora problemática, foi jogada em um contexto social, político e jurídico complexo.

Para os negros, a ordem do tribunal federal de 1974 foi apenas um passo em uma longa luta por educação igual. Para muitos dos brancos da cidade & # x27s, isso foi percebido como uma ameaça aos bairros étnicos e à segurança e ao futuro de seus filhos.

Os resultados foram misturados. Alguns brancos resistiram à ordem de Icourt, às vezes com turbas de atirar pedras. Quase um terço dos alunos brancos foi retirado das escolas públicas. Os custos adicionais da dessegregação, incluindo horas extras da polícia, totalizando cerca de US $ 18 milhões no ano passado e funcionando a uma taxa de US $ 27 milhões este ano, estão ameaçando o orçamento da cidade.

Provas de Sucesso

Por outro lado, há várias escolas onde o processo de desagregação está começando a dar provas de sucesso. Nessas escolas, de acordo com vários observadores, essas partes inovadoras do tribunal ordenaram um plano como um sistema escolar magnético - projetado para atrair matrículas voluntárias por meio de programas enriquecidos - e o envolvimento de faculdades locais começaram a fazer mudanças em um sistema que muitos experis há muito considerados confusos, politicamente orientados e inadequados.

Embora a luta da comunidade negra por igualdade de acesso às escolas públicas remonta aos dias coloniais, a história da decisão do tribunal de 1974 deriva mais recentemente da aprovação da Lei de Desequilíbrio Racial do estado em 1965.

A época era o auge do movimento pelos direitos civis no Sul, e um clérigo de Boston, o reverendo James Reeb, mandou matar cerveja por segregacionistas em Selma, Alabama. Os líderes negros aqui com o apoio de legisladores suburbanos brancos apresentaram um projeto de lei por meio do a Câmara estadual determinava que nenhuma escola pudesse ter mais da metade de negros. A lei obsoleta pretendia ser um modelo para a nação.

Mas, em vez disso, trouxe uma década de oposição de muitos brancos de Boston. Os candidatos ao Comitê Escolar - o conselho escolar da cidade, eleito em geral - fizeram campanha e conquistaram cargos por sua oposição à dessegregação. Foi durante este período que a Sra. Hicks, que disse ao seu público: “Você sabe onde eu fico”, alcançou proeminência política como líder do movimento anti-ônibus.

O Comitê Escolar evitou esforços repetidos ao longo dos anos por parte das autoridades estaduais para fazer cumprir a lei do desequilíbrio, incluindo a retenção de US $ 52 milhões em auxílios estatais por 15 meses. O Governo Federal ameaçou em 1974 reter milhões de dólares em fundos especiais em uma decisão administrativa de que as escolas estavam violando a legislação de direitos civis.

A cada ano, os legisladores da cidade lideravam esforços cada vez mais eficazes para revogar a lei estadual. Dois anos atrás, uma revogação foi votada e o governador Francis W. Sargent, o então presidente, se recusou a vetá-la.

Enquanto isso, na comunidade negra, houve esforços em programas de reforço escolar especiais, boicotes e escolas independentes. Os negros organizaram a “Operação Êxodo”, um programa no qual arrecadaram dinheiro, por meio de salmão real em barbearias a concertos de Count Basie e Eartha Kitt, para fornecer seus próprios ônibus para levar seus filhos a cadeiras vazias em escolas de brancos sob disposições de inscrição aberta.

E a filial local da Associação Nacional para o Avanço de Pessoas de Cor em março de 1972 entrou com a ação que finalmente resultou na ordem de cancelamento da segregação federal.

Em 21 de junho de 1974, o juiz W. Arthur Garrity Jr. do Tribunal do Distrito Federal emitiu uma decisão fortemente documentada de 152 páginas que concluiu que os membros do Comitê Escolar de Boston haviam “conscientemente realizado um programa sistemático de segregação afetando toda a cidade & # alunos, professores e instalações escolares do x27s e intencionalmente criaram e mantiveram um sistema de ensino duplo. ”

“Portanto, todo o sistema escolar de Boston é inconstitucionalmente segregado”, disse a decisão.

Em base racial

O juiz Garrity escreveu em sua opinião sobre a “intransigência e má-fé” com a qual disse que os membros do Comitê Escolar se reuniram com os esforços das autoridades estaduais para pressionar a dessegregação.

A maior parte da opinião delineou uma longa série de manobras que o juiz disse que as autoridades escolares usaram para criar um sistema escolar segregado, no qual 84% dos alunos brancos frequentavam escolas que eram mais de 80% brancos e 62% dos alunos negros frequentou escolas com mais de 70% de negros.

Talvez o método mais notável, o juiz descobriu, foi o estabelecimento de um “padrão alimentador” cuja “única base consistente” era racial. Diferentes tipos de escolas intermediárias foram estabelecidas em diferentes bairros vizinhos, de modo que os negros geralmente começavam o ensino médio na nona série em escolas superiores da cidade, e os brancos iam para escolas secundárias distritais ou de bairro que começavam na 10ª série. Era, segundo a decisão, um "sistema duplo".

Os alunos às vezes eram levados de ônibus pelas escolas mais próximas de suas casas para perpetuar a segregação, de acordo com a decisão do juiz Garrity & # x27s. Havia aglomeração em algumas escolas brancas, enquanto havia cadeiras vazias nas escolas negras.

Apesar do grito de “escola de bairro”, os alunos brancos tiveram permissão para transferências especiais de escolas de bairro que eram predominantemente negras, concluiu o juiz. Quando os alunos negros iam para algumas escolas brancas sob a Operação Êxodo, às vezes eles encontravam portas trancadas e administradores que tinham carteiras destrancadas do chão e as removiam. A lista na decisão do juiz e # x27s continuava indefinidamente.

Para o outono de 1974, o juiz Garrity ordenou um plano de desagregação limitado elaborado anteriormente por funcionários do estado. O plano ligava as duas seções mais mutuamente hostis da cidade, predominantemente negra Roxbury e, em grande parte, IrishAmcrican South Boston, em um enorme distrito escolar. Em seguida, ele nomeou um painel de líderes comunitários e especialistas para realizar audiências e elaborar um plano abrangente para toda a cidade.

Mas o juiz sentiu que o plano dos especialistas era insatisfatório e redesenhou os distritos, mantendo, no entanto, o distrito escolar especial e a combinação de escolas com empresas e faculdades destinadas a melhorar o sistema para facilitar a dessegregação.

Ameaças de Resistência

A maioria dos membros do Comitê Escolar denunciou o juiz Garrity, protestou contra o ônibus e às vezes ameaçou resistir às ordens do tribunal.

Na verdade, tem havido pouco no caminho da liderança política buscando ativamente o cumprimento da ordem judicial. O prefeito White freqüentemente parece estar tentando lidar com a questão.

A certa altura, ele apelou às autoridades federais para que os marechais ajudassem a manter a paz e, quando isso foi negado, ele ameaçou se recusar a cooperar com as ordens de transporte pendentes. Ele disse várias vezes que é "a favor da integração, mas contra o ônibus".

A polícia prendeu centenas de pessoas em distúrbios, mas quase todas foram libertadas pelos tribunais locais.

O presidente Ford, durante uma das crises recorrentes aqui, disse que não achava que viajar de ônibus fosse uma boa ideia. Além da designação proeminente de um grupo especial de marciais federais nas primeiras semanas das aulas neste outono, não tem havido muito apoio da Administração Federal ao Tribunal Distrital.

Frustrado pela contínua turbulência na South Boston High School, o juiz Garrity colocou a escola sob administração judicial em dezembro e retirou do Comitê Escolar muito de seu controle sobre a dessegregação.

No entanto, em janeiro, uma nova maioria, que parece menos recalcitrante, tomou posse no conselho.

Esta é em grande parte uma cidade de bairros de classe trabalhadora etnicamente homogêneos e bem unidos, cercada por subúrbios mais ricos. O sentimento de identidade de bairro é um fator especial na situação atual. Nos bairros ítalo-americano e irlandês-americanos, onde algumas famílias viveram por gerações, as pessoas costumam ver a ordem de dessegregação como algo imposto a eles por estranhos - liberais e suburbanos - quase como um eco da velha luta entre os ianques e os imigrantes Irlandês pelo controle da cidade.

Inevitavelmente, grande parte da atenção está voltada para a resistência obstinada no bairro de South Boston e nos combates ali e nas áreas de Hyde Park e Charlestown. Mas houve outras escolas, especialmente no distrito magnético, onde alunos, pais e professores começaram a trabalhar juntos para uma educação melhor.


VIOLENCE MARS BUSING EM BOSTON

BOSTON, 12 de setembro - multidões zombeteiras e destruidoras em South Boston prejudicaram o início hoje de um programa de ônibus projetado para integrar as escolas públicas de Boston e # x27s, e esta noite o prefeito Kevin H. White proibiu qualquer reunião nas ruas da região problemática.

Outras partes da cidade estavam calmas desde o início do polêmico ônibus.

O prefeito disse que a proibição de South Boston começaria esta noite e atacou o que ele chamou. Elemento “criador de problemas”. Ele disse que a polícia não permitiria ninguém nas escolas de South Boston amanhã sem a "identificação adequada" e dispersaria as reuniões de mais de três pessoas na área 'que é o coração das forças anti-ônibus, prendendo-as se recusassem.

A partir de amanhã, disse o prefeito, a polícia vai escoltar ônibus escolares até o bairro. O início da operação de ônibus ordenada pelo tribunal foi recebido por um boicote bem-sucedido na escola no bairro de South Boston em apuros.

Os ônibus que transportavam o punhado de alunos negros para a seção branca foram apedrejados ao deixarem as escolas esta tarde. Quando os negros chegaram à South Boston High School esta manhã, eles foram saudados com maldições e epítetos raciais.

Em outras áreas, como Hyde Park, onde as autoridades municipais temiam que pudesse haver manifestações ou resistência, os ônibus rodaram pacificamente. O comparecimento em todo o sistema foi relatado como 35 por cento abaixo do normal, devido a uma combinação de sentimento de boicote, medo e confusão. Em algumas escolas, no entanto, a frequência era quase normal.

“Na minha opinião, o primeiro dia de aula foi tranquilo em Boston hoje”, disse o prefeito White em uma reunião com a imprensa esta noite. “A grande maioria das escolas foi integrada sem nenhum incidente”.

As profecias de interrupções provaram ser falsas, disse ele, exceto na área de South Boston. “Não pretendo deixar que isso aconteça de novo”, afirmou, anunciando a proibição das reuniões de rua. Ele acrescentou: “Apelo à liderança de South Boston para agir com responsabilidade e unir a comunidade.”

Cinco jovens presos

Em South Boston, cinco jovens brancos foram presos no decorrer do dia por acusações de conduta desordeira. Um policial foi atingido por uma garrafa lançada e tratado e solto. Em dois incidentes esta tarde, oito estudantes negros e uma mulher negra monitor de ônibus foram cortados e machucados quando seus ônibus foram apedrejados.

O último grupo de estudantes negros a deixar South Boston nesta tarde foi colocado em três carroças de patrulha enquanto uma multidão de brancos zombeteiros se alinhava na rua.

Poucos minutos antes, ônibus que transportavam estudantes negros para casa de outro anexo da South Boston High School exibiam uma série de brancos atiradores de pedras. A polícia disse que 10 dos 20 ônibus foram danificados.

Poucos pais da seção negra de Roxbury enviaram seus filhos para South Boston hoje. Nesta cidade de bairros étnicos muito unidos, as duas áreas foram combinadas em um distrito escolar.

Depois que as aulas começaram esta manhã, funcionários da escola disseram que 40 alunos negros e 25 alunos brancos tinham vindo para a South Boston High School. O plano previa 941 negros e 1.604 brancos. No ano passado, a escola tinha 2.178 alunos brancos e 15 “não brancos”. Na Roxbury High, recém-criada, havia 40 brancos e 400 negros. O plano previa 523 alunos brancos e 453 negros.

O plano de ônibus que entrou em vigor hoje foi ordenado em junho passado pelo juiz do Distrito Federal W. Arthur Garrity, que concluiu que o sistema escolar foi deliberadamente segregado.

Hyde Park Calm

Havia pouca fricção no Hyde Park, um bairro branco de classe média baixa a muitos quilômetros de South Boston. O ressentimento contra o ônibus percorre profundamente a comunidade de casas unifamiliares bem cuidadas, mas o protesto hoje foi feito de forma passiva, mantendo as crianças em casa. A frequência às escolas locais era de cerca de 50 por cento, mas poucos pais permitiam que os filhos viajassem para as escolas intermediárias para as quais foram matriculados em áreas negras.

Na Elihu Greenwood Elementary School, que era quase toda branca até agora, cinco ônibus de crianças negras de Mattapan e Dorchester chegaram às 9h30. Paul Donovan, o diretor com aparência paternal, subiu em cada ônibus e cumprimentou os jovens com alegria: "Olá, vocês estão todos lindos e lindos 'hoje."

Then, under the watchful eyes of teachers, priests and volunteer observers, the children marched double‐file into the school yard and mingled easily with their new white classmates. Minutes later classes began.

“I am very pleased” Mr. Donovan said as‐he peered into the quiet classrooms, He said about half of the 750 children assigned to the school had turned up. Only a brief shouting match in the street nearby marred the morning.

A block away, all went smoothly also at Hyde Park High ‘School, where attendance was more than 60 per cent of the 2,700 assigned, according to Headmaster John F. Best. A contingent of Boston police, discreetly out, of sight behind the boarded‐up front of a defunct sandwich shop, was not needed.

Resentment Apparent

But the surface calm did not disguise the deep undercurrent of resentment. Sullen groups of white parents watched from lawns and sidewalks and complained bitterly of losing their “freedoms.” Joseph Lo Piccolo, a welfare investigator for the state, said he had enrolled his daughter in a private school rather than let her be bused two miles to a black section. “I worked three jobs just to be near this and this church” he said. “Now, it's all being taken away from ine.”

The resentment was nbt limited to whites:. Many of Boston's black parents have also complained about the loss of neighborhood schools, the long bus ride and hostility from whites. Vandals had painted “niggers go home” in foot‐high letters across the stoop of the high school. It was painted out by this morning, but the black parents got the message anyway.

It was in South Boston that the sulleness turned into violonce. “Southie,” as it is universally called here, is a largely Irish, working‐class neighborhood of wooden three‐decker houses, high unemployment among the young, a passion for school and neighborhood athletics, many taverns, and a special place in the city's folklore.

Crowd of 500

By 7 oɼlock this morning—an hour before school was to begin—a crowd had gathered on the stoops of the faded Victorian houses across from the big yellow brick South Boston High atop a hill on Dorchester Heights. It swelled to about 500.

During the night, a racial epithet had been scrawled on the double doors and partially painted over, so as to read “ggers go home.”

Tactical patrol force policemen stood in the macadem schoolyard, and mounted police were nearby. Priests gathered in the street, urging calm. The school's headmaster, ‘William J. Reid, a gray rumpled man sauntered up to youths in the crowd, saying gruffly, “Ya goin'? Go home.”

As the first yellow bus—No. 218 — pulled up just at 8, a rock bounced off its side and a cheer arose from the youths on the sidewalks and the stoops. “Go home, nigger,” they cried. “Turn the bus over,”

Frequently, they broke into the school's football pep chant —“Here we goo, Southie, here we go”—as the buses rolled up, most: of them carrying only one, two or a half dozen neatly dressed, silent, often wide‐eyed black students.

Each bus was greeted with chorus of obscene shouts and gestures, cries of “nigger,” and, once, a couple of wooden slats hurled at the side. Several women in the crowd kept running stream of invective.

There were several scuffles. A member of the Progressive Labor party, picketing in favor of busing, was punched. At one point the police, on horses and foot, pushed and wrestled the crowd away from the school.

Later City Councilor Louise Day Hicks, the symbol of antibusing resistance, moved among the crowd. In her high, small voice, startling coming from her large frame, she said: “Go home, there'll‐ be another day.”

There was hostility toward reporters. A woman screamed at a female reporter approaching with notebook. Asa black television sound man turned away from the croWds youth ran out and delivered a karate kick to the small Of his back, A cameraman Was decked across the hood of a car.

“Any white kid that goes to school out of his neighborhood should be shot, and any black kid that comes out of his neighborhood to school here should be shot,” said a pudgy man in a pork‐pie hat.

Who should do the shooting, he was asked.

“The Mullins, who else,” he answered, referring to the neighborhood's semilegendary gang. There was general laughter. In his statement, Mayor White said that “beginning tonight, the following actions will be taken” to cope with the outbreak:

ҦMe streets are going to be clear in South Boston. No one will be allowed to disrupt students, buses, or traffic.

“¶Any person, or group of persons, in the area of any school must have proper identification. “¶No crowd, or group of three or more people, will be allowed to congregate within the immediate vicinity of any public school. If groups form near schools they will be asked to disperse and move on. And if they refuse, they will be immediately arrested.”

In addition, he said that “all school buses will be escorted into and out of South Boston by the police.”


A Line from Linda

A decade after President Johnson signed the Civil Rights Bill, violence broke out in South Boston over forced desegregation of the city's schools on this day in 1974. Whites pelted rocks and eggs at buses carrying black students to South Boston High. Police on motorcycles were asked to escort the buses along their route. The National Guard was called in to line the bus routes. However, violence continued for three years and the problem was not completely resolved until 1988.

Segregated neighbourhoods in Boston naturally led to segregated schools. Roxbury, formerly a Jewish neighbourhood, was predominantly black by the 1970's. South Boston was a predominantly white (Irish Catholic) neighbourhood. Blacks complained that Roxbury School lacked teachers, furniture and books, all of the things the white schools had. School Board head Louise Day Hicks claimed that "a racially imbalanced school is not educationally harmful". Rather than putting money in the predominantly black schools, the Board of Education did nothing.

However, in the case of Morgan vs. Hennigan, a U.S. judge ruled that the Massachusetts State Board of Education must have a balanced racial mix in its schools. At the beginning of the school year in 1974, the Board of Education was ordered to mix up the school population in the 80 of 200 schools that were less than 50% black. Roxbury High, a predominantly black school, would have its students bused to South Boston High, an all-white school Conversely, South Boston students would go to the Roxbury. A predominantly Italian-American neighbourhood in North Boston would also be affected. In fact, eighteen thousand students would be bused all over Boston to different schools.

Violence erupted on the streets of South Boston on the first day of the forced integration of the schools. Later, Boston Police, riding motorcycles, accompanied many of the buses on their routes. But still, many whites (and blacks) protested by pulling their children out of school. Senator Edward Kennedy was attacked by a mob protesting the decision outside a federal building. Board of Education head Louise Day Hicks led protests. Protesters wore pins with lions on them stating R.O.A.R. (Restore Our Alienated Rights).


Finally, in 1977, Ms. Hicks resigned from the Board and a black member was elected. It was not until 1988, however, that the desegregation issue was fully resolved in Boston.


Busing Left Deep Scars On Boston, Its Students 10:05

BOSTON &mdash Forty years ago this week, federal Judge W. Arthur Garrity's decision to undo decades of discrimination in Boston's public schools was put into action. It was called court-ordered desegregation, but critics called it "forced busing."

For those who were here and old enough to remember, Sept. 12 1974, is one of those defining dates in history, like the day JFK was shot. It was the day desegregation went into effect.

Hundreds of enraged white residents &mdash parents and their kids &mdash hurled bricks and stones as buses arrived at South Boston High School, carrying black students from Roxbury. Police in riot gear tried to control the demonstrators. Eight black students on buses were injured.

And the racism was raw. "They let the niggers in," one man said to a reporter then. Another said the same: "Then the buses came, and they let the niggers in."

Riding on one of the buses that first day was Jean McGuire, a volunteer bus monitor.

"Those kids were unprotected and what they saw was an ugly part of South Boston," she said in a recent interview. "They didn't see the really great people of South Boston."

"You’ll still see many victims of the busing decision that didn’t allow them to go to the school or get the education that they needed and deserved."

Former Mayor Ray Flynn

McGuire would become the first black female candidate elected to the Boston School Committee in the 20th century.

And Garrity's decision to use school buses to carry out his desegregation order became a potent symbol for opponents and supporters of the judge's ruling &mdash supporters like McGuire

"It isn't the bus you're talking about," she said. "You have to be really honest, it hasn't a thing to do with transportation. Everybody in the suburbs rides a bus to school if they're not driving their cars. It isn't the bus, it's us, it's who you live next to. It's who you think your kids are going to marry."

McGuire says we're better off after Garrity's decision. "Absolutely, you had to break the mold," she said. But McGuire acknowledges there were mistakes in the judge's order.

"We would have never, ever paired South Boston with Roxbury as a start," she said. "It didn't make sense. There was too much enmity there. You'd start somewhere [where] there's a history of either the churches or businesses, sport teams, you know, things which people aren't suspicious [of], because there's a friendship there. You got something to base it on."

South Boston High School is four miles, and a world apart, from where Roxbury High once stood. Nearly all the students at Roxbury High were black. South Boston High was entirely white. And even sports couldn't bridge that gap.

"It was a textbook case of how not to implement public policy without community input," Ray Flynn said recently on the steps of South Boston High. Flynn, who would later become mayor of Boston, was a state representative from Southie when busing began.

"I remember it very well," he said. "I was here every day during that whole ordeal."

Ray Flynn was South Boston’s state representative during the busing crisis, and later mayor of the city. Here he is recently on the steps of South Boston High School. (Jesse Costa/WBUR)

When Flynn spoke, you could hear the sounds of hammers and saws as contractors were turning modest triple-deckers into upscale condos. Today longtime residents complain of gentrification and a lack of affordable housing and parking.

Now 75 and semi-retired, Flynn has lived his whole life in Southie, still an insular, tight-knit Irish Catholic enclave.

"To know South Boston, you really have to know the history of sports and that great tradition and pride that we have in this community, and neighborhood and sense of belonging," he said. "[We have] a special tradition and a special pride and sports was a major part of it."

And Flynn was a major part of sports there. High school class of '58, he was captain of three varsity teams. As a young probation officer in Dorchester he founded the city's first interracial sports league. He was a ballboy for the Harlem Globetrotters and drafted by the Celtics.

But teamplay didn't trump deep racial prejudices in Southie, which Flynn now downplays.

"There are racists and haters everywhere you go," he said. "You'll find them in any community and we had our handful of them over here in South Boston. They were the people that were most reported by the press, interviewed by the press. They were the most vocal."

But Flynn says their voices weren't heard by Judge Garrity or the appointed masters who carried out his court order. The divisions over desegregation were more than skin deep.

"They didn't understand the people or the neighborhoods of Boston," Flynn said.

The fundamental issues, Flynn says, were economic and class. Schools in poor, working-class Roxbury and Southie were deplorable. In Southie they lacked textbooks. In Roxbury some didn't have toilet seats. Students back then discussed who had it worse.

"If the court-appointed masters had only listened to the people in the black area, the white area, the Hispanic area, they would have gotten a different picture [of] what the parents wanted," Flynn said. "They wanted these windows fixed, they wanted these gyms repaired, they wanted a different curriculum. That's the kind of changes that they were looking for.

"You know, they have their most important possessions on the line," he added. "What is that? That's their children &mdash their children's education and their future. Imagine some outsiders making decisions about somebody's children and their education and their future. You can walk around Roxbury, you can walk around South Boston, you'll still see many victims of the busing decision that didn't allow them to go to the school or get the education that they needed and deserved."

Forty years ago, Regina Williams of Roxbury rode the bus to South Boston High that first day of desegregation. In a recent interview, she said it was "like a war zone." Then she said:

I said, 'Ma, I am not going back to that school unless I have a gun.' At 14 years old. 'I am not going back to that school.' I just quit. I quit school. I had all this time on my hands. And what happened from there, you end up doing drugs, you end up getting pregnant out of wedlock, because there was nothing to do. You didn't have to go to school, they didn't have attendance, they didn't monitor you if you went to school. It was your choice. Either you go to school and get your education and fight for it, or you stay home and be safe and just make wrong decisions or right decisions. All these things that affected me goes back to busing. Lack of education. Lack of basic training and reading. Lack of basic writing. It's embarrassing, it's pathetic. You feel cheated. You don't want to tell anyone you never learned how to write because no one taught you.

Williams eventually got her GED, graduated from college, dropped out of grad school to care for her disabled grandchild, and now is studying for her real estate broker's license. She lives in Roxbury.

Youngsters in Charlestown vent their frustration on a press van on Sept. 9, 1975, during the second day of court-ordered desegregation. (AP)

To the north, across Boston Harbor in a different neighborhood, there's a different perspective on court-ordered desegregation.

"It totally tipped the way of life in the city, and not to the good," said Moe Gillen, a lifelong Charlestown resident.

Charlestown was part of Phase 2 of Judge Garrity's desegregation plan. In 1975, in an attempt to avoid the violence of South Boston a year earlier, Garrity named Gillen to a community council. Gillen was the only one out of 40 council members to oppose busing.

"I never felt it was a racial issue," he said in a recent interview. "I always felt and still feel that it's an economic issue. To interview someone like myself that's from the town, lifelong, and they wonder why my kids don't go to public school, and yet the yuppies that come in with families, their kids don't go to public school and there's no question about it."

Down the street from Gillen's home is the Grasshopper Cafe. He's a regular of customer and he jokes around with waitress Zaida Sanchez. She wasn't here 40 years ago to see the buses roll. She came here from Peru.

"I love Charlestown," Sanchez said. "I like the people from Charlestown, but I don't feel like a townie yet. But my kids are townie. They were born in Charlestown."

Once almost totally white, Charlestown is now nearly 20 percent Hispanic and 20 percent black. Still more than half the population is white, but white children make up less than 8 percent of the public school students.

Busing tables at the Grasshopper Cafe was Meaghan Douherty. She's a townie but goes to high school in Cambridge.

"I've attended Catholic school my whole life so my parents wanted me to continue it," Douherty said. "They wanted the best education for me so they sent me to private school."

When asked about public school, she said: "I think it would make more sense for me to go in my town. Then I wouldn't have to drive to school, waste gas every day. But I want it to be a safer environment so I think they need to work on making it a safer place to be in."

The use of buses to desegregate Boston Public Schools lasted a quarter of a century. Yet, the effects are still with us.

In the first five years of desegregation, the parents of 30,000 children, mostly middle class, took their kids out of the city school system and left Boston.

Today, half the population of Boston is white, but only 14 percent of students are white.

McGuire, the former bus monitor, is still a supporter of the 1974 desegregation order, and Ray Flynn is still an opponent. They don't agree on much, except the unexpected consequences 40 years later.

"We're going back to resegregation," McGuire said. "We have more all-black and all-Latino schools now than we had before desegregation."

"Boston has become a city of the wealthy and the poor," Flynn said. "And the school system has not improved as a result of busing in Boston all these years."

And a question can be asked: Where will we be 40 years from now?

Correção: An earlier version of this story inaccurately reported that Jean McGuire was the first African-American on the school committee. She was the first black female. Lamentamos o erro.

Later this month, WBUR is organizing an on-air busing roundtable. We want to hear from former BPS students who were bused to school in 1974. If that's you, and you're interested in participating in our conversation, please send a note to reporter Asma Khalid.

This segment aired on September 5, 2014.

Senior Reporter
Bruce Gellerman is an award-winning journalist and senior correspondent, frequently covering science, business, technology and the environment.


Rethinking "busing" in Boston

On September 9, 1974, over 4,000 white demonstrators rallied at Boston Common to protest the start of court-ordered school desegregation in the Cradle of Liberty. Earlier that summer, federal Judge W. Arthur Garrity found the Boston School Committee guilty of unconstitutional school segregation and ordered nearly 17,000 students to be transferred by bus to increase the racial integration of Boston's schools. When Senator Edward Kennedy tried to address the crowd, the protesters booed and pelted him with eggs. As Kennedy retreated to his office, the crowd rushed and began pounding on and then shattering a glass window. Television news crews from ABC, CBS, and NBC were on hand to cover the rally, and they brought images of the confrontation to a national audience of millions of Americans.

School desegregation in Boston continued to be a headline story in print and broadcast news for the next two years, and this extensive media coverage made "busing" synonymous with Boston. Today Boston's "busing crisis" is taught in high schools and colleges across the country as the story of school desegregation in the North and as a convenient end point for the history of civil rights, where it is juxtaposed with Brown v. Conselho de Educação (1954) or the Little Rock school-integration crisis (1957).

Boston's mid-1970s "busing crisis," however, was over two decades in the making. From the 1950s onward, the city's schools were intentionally segregated through official state and local policies regarding zoning, teacher placement, and busing. Boston civil rights advocates fought against these policies and the educational inequities they produced, but faced intense resistance from white parents and politicians. Across Boston's public schools in the 1950s, per-pupil spending averaged $340 for white students compared with only $240 for black students. More than 80% of Boston's black elementary-school students attended majority-black schools, most of which were overcrowded and staffed by less experienced teachers. Over the years, data of this sort failed to persuade the Boston School Committee, which steadfastly denied the charge that school segregation even existed in Boston. As Garrity's decision in Morgan v. Hennigan (1974) made clear, however, the segregation of Boston's schools was neither innocent nor accidental:

"The court concludes that the defendants took many actions in their official capacities with the purpose and intent to segregate the Boston public schools and that such actions caused current conditions of segregation in the Boston public schools. … Plaintiffs have proved that the defendants intentionally segregated schools at all levels, built new schools for a decade with sizes and locations designed to promote segregation, [and] maintained patterns of overcrowding and underutilization which promoted segregation." (Morgan v. Hennigan, 379 F. Supp. 144, 146).

Court-ordered busing was intended to remedy decades of educational discrimination in Boston, and it was controversial because it challenged a school system that was built around the preferences and demands of white communities.

By showing that Boston's schools discriminated against black students, Garrity's ruling validated the claims that Boston's leading civil rights activists—Ruth Batson, Ellen Jackson, Muriel and Otto Snowden, Mel King, Melnea Cass—had been making for over two decades. "When we would go to white schools, we'd see these lovely classrooms, with a small number of children in each class," Ruth Batson recalled. As a Boston civil rights activist and the mother of three, Batson gained personal knowledge of how the city's public schools shortchanged black youth in the 1950s and 1960s. "The teachers were permanent. We'd see wonderful materials. When we'd go to our schools, we would see overcrowded classrooms, children sitting out in the corridors, and so forth. And so, then we decided that where there were a large number of white students, that's where the care went. That's where the books went. That's where the money went."

Like black parents across the country, Batson cared deeply about education and fought on behalf of her children and her community. "What black parents wanted was to get their children to schools where there were the best resources for educational growth—smaller class sizes, up-to-date-books," Batson recalled. "They wanted their children in a good school building, where there was an allocation of funds which exceeded those in the black schools where there were sufficient books and equipment for all students." In short, Batson understood that school integration was about more than having black students sit next to white students.

Boston's civil rights activists were organized, creative, and persistent in their protests, but they received much less attention from journalists than white parents and politicians who opposed "busing." This lack of contemporary media coverage has made it difficult to tell stories about civil rights in Boston and other Northern cities. Most of the iconic images of the civil rights era are from Southern cities like Little Rock, Montgomery, and Selma, rather than Boston, Chicago, and New York.

White parents and politicians framed their resistance to school desegregation in terms of "busing," "neighborhood schools," and "homeowners rights." These slogans were designed not only to oppose Boston's civil rights activists, but to make it appear as though white Bostonians were the victims of an unjust court order. This rhetorical shift allowed them to support white schools and neighborhoods without using explicitly racist language. As early as 1957, white parents in New York rallied against "busing," and Boston School Committee chairwoman Louise Day Hicks made opposition to "busing" a centerpiece of her political campaigns in the mid-1960s.

Speaking in 1972, Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC) co-founder and Georgia State Legislator Julian Bond described the underlying motivations for opposing "busing" for school desegregation in clear terms. "What people who oppose busing object to," Bond told the audience, "is not the little yellow school buses, but rather to the little black bodies that are on the bus." Indeed, the crisis in Boston and in other cities that faced court-ordered school desegregation was about unconstitutional racial discrimination in the public schools, not about "busing." Describing opposition to "busing" as something other than resistance to school desegregation is a choice that obscures the histories of racial discrimination and legal contexts for desegregation orders.

School desegregation was about the constitutional rights of black students, but in Boston and other Northern cities, the story has been told and retold as a story about the feelings and opinions of white parents. Over four decades later, the Boston busing artifacts in the Smithsonian collection can be used to tell a more nuanced and complicated story about civil rights and the ongoing struggle for educational equality.

Matthew Delmont is a professor of history at Arizona State University. He is the author of three books, Why Busing Failed: Race, Media, and the National Resistance to School Desegregation Making Roots: A Nation Captivated e The Nicest Kids in Town: American Bandstand, Rock 'n' Roll, and the Struggle for Civil Rights in 1950s Philadelphia. He is currently working on a book tentatively titled, To Live Half American: African Americans at Home and Abroad during World War II.


What Historical Moment Is Leon Neyfakh Learning From Now?

The creators of “Slow Burn” have a new season of their podcast “Fiasco,” which looks at the yearslong fight over school desegregation in Boston.

In 2017, the first season of Leon Neyfakh’s podcast, “Slow Burn,” retold the story of the Watergate scandal, unearthing key details and subjecting them to close analysis.

It was a hit, something Mr. Neyfakh, then working for Slate, attributes to its timing: The Trump administration was in the midst of its own scandal, under investigation by Robert Mueller.

Since then Mr. Neyfakh, 35, has continued to produce podcast seasons that delve into moments in semi-recent history that can help illuminate the present. After making two seasons of “Slow Burn” — the second was about the impeachment of President Bill Clinton after his relationship with Monica Lewinsky — Mr. Neyfakh and his collaborators Andrew Parsons and Madeline Kaplan left Slate and formed their own production company, Prologue Projects (as in “the past is prologue”).

The current season of their new podcast, “Fiasco,” looks at the yearslong fight over school desegregation in Boston, which intensified in 1974 after a federal judge ruled that the city’s public schools must be integrated. Thousands of white parents pulled their children out of class, and violence erupted in the city’s streets, stoked in part by the mobster Whitey Bulger, who torched an elementary school.

White protesters threw rocks at the buses carrying Black students to and from newly integrated schools, and deadly clashes between teenagers made national news, cementing an image of Boston as a bastion of northern racism.

This period of violence has often been referred to as a “busing” crisis (buses were used to transport Black children to mostly white schools and vice versa), which Mr. Neyfakh believes confuses the story.

“For a lot of people who know and remember busing, it’s this word that connotes chaos, and violence and failure,” he said. “Our show tries to question that a little bit and tries to understand what really went wrong. Was it really inevitable that it went as wrong as it did in Boston?”

In the interview below, which has been edited, Mr. Neyfakh talks about the new season of “Fiasco,” why he doesn’t consider himself a historian and whether there’s any danger in using the past as a way to understand the present.

You emphasized while doing “Slow Burn” that you wanted to get into how it felt to live through these historic moments. Why was that?

“Slow Burn" started in 2017. It hadn’t been that long since Trump became president. Every day just felt like a series of emergencies and we wanted to know: Did it feel the same way back in the Watergate days when the White House was going through a comparable kind of turmoil? Were people obsessively checking for the latest the way we do with our alerts?

Part of what led us to that angle — “What did it feel like to live through at the time?” — was a sort of a disbelief that it could have ever been this way before. And people moved on and the country survived. It just felt so overwhelming, as it continues to be. But I think hearing about this previous era in American history when people felt similarly, I think for a lot of listeners was maybe a little bit reassuring. It was proof that there could be a future after that.

The current season feels really relevant to the moment in its discussion of racism and segregation, particularly when it comes to schools. Are you always looking for the story you’re telling about the past to line up nicely with the present?

I’m definitely looking for resonance. I’ve sort of realized that you can’t just tell a fascinating story from the past if there’s no way to process it with an eye on the present. I think people need that motivation, that promise that they’ll be able to understand the world they live in through hearing the story.

With the story of desegregation in Boston, what drew me to it, is it’s the kind of story if you hear it in detail, it can really teach you something about how the world works, now and forever. If you zoom in close enough, which is what we always try to do, you find enough little subplots and individuals who can conjure up memories and you can say something true. And it will be true not just about the past but also about the present.

It also appealed to me because it presented a chance to slowly and methodically describe a morally complicated situation, one where it’s not 100 percent obvious what was motivating everyone. You can look back all these years later and ask questions about whether the opposition to desegregation was all about race or about class or was it some mix of the two.

We try to find stories that have some moral ambiguity. I think with this story it’s a little bit harder because you’re dealing with racism. As you will hear in the show, we’re pretty direct about calling it that when called for.

Those resonances with the present have been punctuated, on both “Fiasco” and “Slow Burn,” by phrases that are currently in circulation right now. In one episode of the new season, for instance, the phrases “law and order” and “enemy of the people” are both used to refer what was happening in Boston. Do you, like, fist pump in interviews when a source says something that very directly echoes of the present?

There’s a line you can cross with those things where it feels coy. I think we had a couple of moments in the first season of “Slow Burn” where obviously we were trying to draw attention to the fact that there were parallels to the Trump administration. I was always a little bit nervous about whether subtlety is coming across as coyness. How subtle was it, really, if it’s obvious to everyone who’s listening to what you’re doing?

With this season, it never felt like we were in danger of being coy. It was more like an overt indication to the listener that these ideas and these political weapons have been around forever and they’ve always been so potent. To me that’s one of the resonances of the season.

Some politicians choose to harness anger and fear and hatred, and it can be really, really, really powerful when they do. And it’s a little bit scary to think that’s the main difference between an era when we have this kind of concentrated, organized, violent opposition and one where we don’t: It’s just because someone chose to activate it. It’s always there.

The recurrence of those phrases, like “law and order,” how persistently certain phrases have remained dog whistles even as their meaning has become clear over the years, is just kind of amazing. It didn’t feel like we were in danger of being coy, more kind of an attempt to remind people how eternal some of these dynamics are.

You said earlier that you’re not a historian. Why do you make sure to emphasize that?

Academic historians have a very specialized set of skills and training. And I just don’t have those. And I’ll be the first to admit that as much as we rely on historians as secondary sources in our podcast, I don’t study primary sources in the same rigorous way they do.

I don’t conduct my analysis in any kind of formalistic way that adheres to one school of historiography versus another one. I’m just not in that world. The tools of our trade are very much reporting.

Nothing against historians! Muito pelo contrário.

You’re engaged in using events of the past to shed light on the present. Is there anything we stand to miss in that kind of exercise?

You see a lot of pretty facile attempts to conjure up parallels between different eras in history. I’ve done some of it myself! I wrote a piece for the ideas section of The Boston Globe about whether 1968 was the right reference point for the Arab Spring, and I talked to a bunch of people about whether 1848 was the more informative parallel. And I remember all the historians I talked to were like, “You know, you really shouldn’t go too far with the one-to-one analysis.” I knew they were right then.

I still think there’s something to be gained from it, as long as you’re not coming into it thinking that it’s a crystal ball. I think it’s possible to learn about certain internal dynamics that are consistent and predictable.

Our main objective is not to give people a road map to the present but to provoke them to think about the present using new questions. We want to raise serious moral issues that people are still obviously dealing with. And we want people to process the present in a way that’s hopefully richer for having been exposed to our prodding.


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Born in Worcester, Massachusetts, Garrity received an Artium Baccalaureus degree from College of the Holy Cross in 1941, and was then a Sergeant in the United States Army during World War II, from 1943-45. He received a Bachelor of Laws from Harvard Law School in 1946, and served as a law clerk to Francis Ford of the United States District Court for the District of Massachusetts from 1946 to 1947. Garrity entered private practice in Boston and Worcester from 1947 to 1948. He was an Assistant United States Attorney for the District of Massachusetts from 1948 to 1950, lecturing in federal jurisdiction and procedure at Boston College Law School from 1950 to 1951. He was in private practice in Boston from 1951 to 1961. He was the United States Attorney for the District of Massachusetts from 1961 to 1966. [1]

Garrity was nominated by President Lyndon B. Johnson on May 23, 1966, to the United States District Court for the District of Massachusetts, to a new seat authorized by 75 Stat. 80. He was confirmed by the United States Senate on June 24, 1966, and received his commission on June 24, 1966. He assumed senior status on December 1, 1985. [1] His service terminated on September 16, 1999, due to his death of cancer in Wellesley, Massachusetts. [2]

As a federal judge, Garrity was at the center of a contentious battle over desegregation busing in Boston from the 1970s to the 1980s. He found a recurring pattern of racial discrimination in the operation of the Boston public schools in a 1974 ruling. [3] His ruling found the schools were unconstitutionally segregated. [3]

As a remedy, he used a busing plan developed by the Massachusetts State Board of Education to implement the state's Racial Imbalance Law that had been passed by the Massachusetts state legislature a few years earlier, requiring any school with a student enrollment that was more than 50% nonwhite to be balanced according to race. The Boston School Committee consistently disobeyed orders from the state Board of Education. Garrity's ruling, upheld on appeal by conservative judges on the United States Court of Appeals for the First Circuit and by the Supreme Court led by Warren Burger, required school children to be brought to different schools to end segregation and led to the Boston busing crisis of 1974-88. By the final Garrity-decided court case in 1988, Garrity had assumed more control over a school system than any judge in American history. [4]

An obituary in the New York Times noted that

Opposition to desegregation exploded in some areas, particularly the largely Irish Catholic enclaves of Charlestown and South Boston, and spilled over into racial violence. Garrity became the target of death threats and at least two attempts on his life. He remained under guard 24 hours a day from 1974-78. He was scorned and snubbed by many his name appeared in profane city graffiti he was hanged in effigy, and demonstrators came to his home. [2]

Garrity's brother was John T. Garrity, former Managing Director of McKinsey & Company, and his nephew is technology analyst David Garrity. [5]


Assista o vídeo: Novo caso de violência policial aumenta tensão racial nos EUA. SBT Brasil 030920 (Janeiro 2022).