Peter B. Levy. Civil War on Race Street: The Civil Rights Movement in Cambridge, Maryland. Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2003. x + 242 pp. $55.00 (cloth), ISBN 978-0-8130-2638-1.
Reviewed by Patrick Jones (Department of History, University of Nebraska-Lincoln If This Town Don't Come Around)
Published on H-1960s (July, 2004)
"If This Town Don't Come Around ..."
Cambridge, Maryland has occupied a particular place in the established narrative of the modern civil rights movement. According to this telling, Cambridge enters the scene in July 1967, in the wake of the Newark and Detroit riots, when H. Rap Brown, the recently elected Chairman of the rapidly changing Student Non-Violent Coordinating Committee (SNCC), accepted an invitation to speak in the city as a part of an effort to revive the local movement. During his remarks, Brown unleashed a barrage of incendiary vitriol, attacking "white honkies," "Uncle Toms," white landlords, and the federal government, while extolling the virtues of black power and armed resistance. He concluded with a fiery flourish, stating, "if this town don't come around, this town should be burned down" (pp. 4-5). When civil disorder broke out that same night, authorities and journalists from across the country laid the blame squarely on H. Rap Brown's speech. Governor Spiro Agnew--soon to become the symbol of the New Right--rushed to the scene from his vacation in Ocean City, Maryland, to lambaste the threatening rhetoric of black nationalists, nationwide, and to demand Brown's arrest for "inciting a riot." In this well-worn version of the story, the Cambridge movement is reduced to a single incident. It is deployed to underscore the excesses of black power and suggest that it represented a wrong turn in the civil rights movement, which steered away from non-violent direct action and inter-racialism, and toward a radical, racially exclusive and often violent agenda that ultimately accomplished little. Peter Levy's important new book, Civil War on Race Street (2003), challenges this common interpretation by resituating what came to be called the "Brown Riot" within the broader context of race relations and civil rights insurgency in Cambridge. In the process, he suggests the need for a broad historical reconceptualization of the civil rights era in general. Throughout its early history, Cambridge stood at America's racial crossroads, pulled in two directions. Prior to the Civil War, Cambridge was both the sight of a major slave trading post and home to many free people of color. After the war, black people enjoyed a relatively secure franchise and representation on the city council as early as 1881 but contended daily with a stultifying color line. During the latter decades of the nineteenth century, Cambridge grew into a significant industrial center and class divisions increasingly challenged racial caste as the primary determinant of community relations. The Phillips Packing Company, one of the largest producers of canned fruit and vegetables in the United States and the biggest employer in the region, dominated Cambridge politics and economics until after the Second World War. Even though most black workers remained in a subordinate position within the local industrial economy, white and black workers occasionally united to challenge the power of the industrial elite--as in a large 1937 strike. Despite the potential for class-consciousness to override caste barriers at work, the black experience in Cambridge was severely circumscribed by pervasive poverty and segregation in jobs, housing, and education. African Americans remained "excluded from virtually every social activity in town--with the exception of those held in public spaces" (p. 24). Yet, most local white people felt that they lived in a relatively progressive community compared to the Deep South, a view that persisted throughout the civil rights era despite mounting black protest. Following the Second World War, a variety of forces--particularly the construction of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge and the collapse of the Phillips Packing Company--destabilized Cambridge and paved the way for a renegotiation of economic, social, and political relations in the community. As local elites struggled to maintain their advantage, they found themselves vulnerable to grassroots challenges from African Americans and working-class whites. It was this fluid circumstance that provided the opportunity for a new, assertive African American leadership to challenge more cautious black leaders and the racial status quo. International politics provided the immediate spark for civil rights activism in Cambridge. In 1961, the ambassador from Chad, one of several newly independent African nations, complained to the Kennedy White House that he had been refused service at a Maryland restaurant while en route from the United Nations to Washington, D.C. Civil rights activists responded with a series of sit-ins and "Freedom Rides" along the route. The demonstrations prompted several Cambridge residents to investigate the racial situation in their city. In 1962, they formed the Cambridge Nonviolent Action Committee (CNAC, pronounced "see-nack") to target segregation in restaurants, theaters, and other public accommodations. When sit-ins at local establishments provoked white violence and arrests but little concrete change occured, causing many young activists to become increasingly disillusioned. Sensing this frustration, Gloria Richardson, whose cousin and daughter had participated in the protests, took a more active role in the movement by agreeing to serve as CNAC's adult supervisor. Richardson was one of the few militant female civil rights leaders in the nation and she quickly expanded CNAC's campaign into an all-out attack on racial inequality, from inadequate health care to discrimination in employment, housing, and education--a move that made many traditional black leaders uncomfortable.
Allied with the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC) and aided by students from Swarthmore, Brown, Morgan State, Maryland State, and Goucher College, CNAC organized sit-ins, pickets, and protests that resulted in eight arrests. After court-ordered negotiations between activists and city officials broke down, violence flared, resulting in the shootings of two white men and the arson of several white businesses. As tensions grew, Richardson urged more demonstrations as well as federal intervention. When a mob of whites chased a group of African-American demonstrators into the black section of town, state troopers and National Guardsmen moved in to restore order and remained for three weeks. More violence ensued when the Guardsmen left, necessitating their redeployment for almost a year along Race Street--the physical boundary between the white and black communities in Cambridge. During the failed negotiations, city officials agreed to an incremental desegregation program in local schools as well as in public accommodations and to form an interracial committee to work on other problems, if CNAC agreed to call off the demonstrations. Gloria Richardson and CNAC refused to comply with this gradualist approach, stating that they would accept nothing short of full desegregation and equal opportunity in employment and housing. Months of pleadings and warnings by Richardson finally spurred the Kennedy Administration to action. The move came as a surprise considering the administration's steadfast refusal to intercede in other local racial conflicts like the one in Albany, Georgia. According to Levy, "[Cambridge] represented the most direct intervention of the Kennedy Administration in the racial affairs of a single community, paling its involvement in Birmingham, Alabama and Jackson, Mississippi" (p. 2). Cambridge's proximity to Washington, D.C., the severity of the conflict there (among the worst of a bloody 1963), Kennedy's recent public denunciation of racism in a nationally televised address, and the pending Civil Rights Bill in Congress, all accounted for this unprecedented involvement.
On July 22, 1963, Gloria Richardson, several state government representatives, and SNCC Chairman John Lewis met with Robert F. Kennedy at the Justice Department to hammer out an agreement. Unlike Martin Luther King, Jr., Roy Wilkins, Whitney Young, and most prominent white liberals, Richardson bristled at compromise, in part because she did not share the same stake in the status quo that they had as office holders, ministers, and business people. Moreover, Richardson believed the Kennedy Administration was more focused on ending violence than ensuring racial justice. Even so, the group ultimately came to an agreement--the "Treaty of Cambridge," as it was called--to overhaul race relations in the divided city. The treaty established a local human rights commission, sped up the desegregation of public schools and the construction of public housing, amended the city charter to make racial discrimination in public accommodations illegal, and created an innovative job-training program.
The agreement unraveled when the Dorchester Business and Citizens Association, a pro-segregation alliance of white business interests, forced a referendum on the desegregation of public accommodations. In a surprise move, Richardson urged black citizens and their allies to boycott the referendum, arguing that African Americans' constitutional rights should not be up for a vote. "A first-class citizen does not beg for freedom," she explained. "A first-class citizen does not plead to the white power structure to give him something that the whites have no power to give or take away. Human rights are human rights, not white rights" (p. 97). Richardson also believed the referendum's focus on desegregation diverted attention from the most significant problems facing black people, particularly economic inequality and housing discrimination. This position angered traditional African American leaders and local white liberals, who thought they could win the vote. Not surprisingly, violence ensued after the measure was defeated, prompting city officials to blame Richardson and national civil rights leaders to accuse her of betraying the principles of the movement by grandstanding. In the wake of the referendum, the Cambridge NAACP and a number of prominent African American ministers distanced themselves from Richardson and CNAC. At the same time, white city leaders, fearful of more violence, pressed forward with many of the other provisions enumerated in the treaty. Over the next few years, racial divisions deepened in Cambridge. Local black leadership remained bitterly torn by the referendum's failure. The white community grew increasingly reactionary thanks in no small measure to a fiery visit by segregationist Alabama Governor and Democratic presidential contender George Wallace. Adam Clayton Powell, Jr., Fannie Lou Hamer, Minister Louis 3x (a.k.a. Louis Farrakhan), and other black militants visited Cambridge and endorsed CNAC's more radical stance. Gloria Richardson met Malcolm X and warned that the nonviolent movement for racial justice might "turn into civil war" if the nation did not act; she demanded "freedom--all of it, here and now" (p. 105)! The cumulative result was an erosion of moderation in Cambridge throughout the mid-1960s. Yet, side by side with this growing polarization were signs of a "return to normalcy" (p. 114). Improving economic conditions, the partial dismantling of de jure racial caste barriers, a focus on securing War On Poverty funds by the city council, a revival of the local labor movement, increasing African American political power, and the departure from the community of Gloria Richardson "left many whites believing that the days of protest should have passed and questioning the motivation of those who continued to demand more" (p. 113). But underlying these hopeful signs lay the reality of persistent racism, economic inequality, urban decay, black militancy, white reaction, and a deeply divided community. In July 1967, with Detroit still smoldering and the thunderclaps of black power resounding through African American communities across the country, Richardson, now living in New York City, arranged for H. Rap Brown to speak in Cambridge. Brown, Stokeley Carmichael, and Cleveland Sellers had spent time in Cambridge during the 1962-1963 campaign and were impressed by Richardson's aggressive approach to racial justice. In the weeks preceding Brown's visit, racial tensions were stoked by a rash of downtown arsons and controversy over access to a local swimming pool for African Americans. Fears, rumors, and predictions of violence rippled across the community. Brown's incendiary comments, then, were only one part of a much larger racial drama that had been unfolding both nationally and locally for a number of years. The exact sequence of events following Brown's speech remains murky, but what is clear is that the incident largely confirmed the preconceptions of all parties. Police, city leaders, and many local whites blamed black radicals, a perception that catapulted Spiro Agnew to national prominence and fueled the reactionary politics of the New Right. African-American militants, in turn, viewed white racism and the slow rate of change in Cambridge as the culprit and vowed to continue their fight come what may. Moderates saw it as a combination of these factors, but were unclear how to proceed. After the Brown Riot, the movement in Cambridge began a slow decline. Activism continued, but within an increasingly conservative context. Civil rights organizations counted fewer members and could no longer mobilize large numbers of supporters for their campaigns. Law enforcement, backed up by new laws and a broad segment of the white community, became increasingly stringent. Economic inequality persisted alongside an increase in public welfare and urban renewal funds flowing into the city. New political alliances emphasizing moderation and reconciliation formed to respond to altered circumstances. And racial disputes now played out mainly in the courts rather than in the streets. After years of turbulence, violence, and pain, a relative stability returned to Cambridge. Based on a wealth of primary sources, including manuscript collections, newspapers, court records, legal documents, oral histories, and more, as well as a strong command of the secondary literature, Levy's study yields a variety of interesting and surprising results. The research undoubtedly recovers an important local story and recasts its place in the national civil rights narrative. It also reintroduces Gloria Richardson, an important but often overlooked civil rights leader. Levy's work underscores the interrelated fates of black radicalism and white backlash, and furthers our increasingly sophisticated view of the New Right's rise. Finally, the book highlights the grim reality that violence was often the catalyst for public action on racial issues throughout the civil rights era. On these grounds alone, the book is to be recommended. But Civil War on Race Street goes further. Time and again, Levy points out the way the Cambridge story complicates our established conceptions of the civil rights movement. For instance, the primary movement leader in Cambridge was neither a man nor a minister, but a militant single-mother with an expansive vision of racial justice that went beyond voting rights and desegregation of public accommodations to include economic justice, fair housing, and human dignity. CNAC enjoyed strong support from poor and working-class African Americans, a fact that set it apart from many other civil rights organizations. Cambridge civil rights leaders also expressed ambivalence toward non-violence, embracing it more often as a tactic rather than a way of life. Moreover, elements of "Black Power"--including race pride, black nationalism, skepticism of non-violent direct action, an unwillingness to compromise, and the use of strident rhetoric--were present in the Cambridge movement long before that slogan echoed across the Mississippi Delta in 1966. Clearly, at the local level, outside of the drive for national legislation, the contest over Movement tactics, strategies, and goals was more complex than the national civil rights narrative suggests. At the same time, the successes and failures of the movement were less dramatic, consistent, or conclusive than often portrayed. From this vantage, sharp distinctions between an "earlier" and "later" phase of the movement, between "success" due to nonviolence, integration, and compromise on one side and "failure" due to black power, racial exclusivity, violence, and militancy on the other, became increasingly difficult to discern. Levy does reaffirm Cambridge's place within the national civil rights narrative, but not for the reasons usually given. He reminds us that events in Cambridge received national media attention comparable to events in Birmingham and Jackson in 1963, and Detroit and Newark in 1967. Cambridge also holds the distinction of being the first and only city in the nation to conduct a referendum on the desegregation of public accommodations. The city provided the platform for Spiro Agnew's transformation from "Rockefeller Republican" to the national embodiment of the white backlash. And the Brown Riot inspired the "Brown Amendment" to the Civil Rights Act of 1968, which made it illegal to cross state lines to start a riot. On the flip side, Gloria Richardson's militancy left a significant early impression on future black power leaders Stokeley Carmichael, H. Rap Brown, and Cleveland Sellers. As important as Levy's recovery of the Cambridge story is, his broader analysis of the civil rights era is perhaps even more significant. Civil War on Race Street joins a recent spate of publications by Komozi Woodard, Jeanne Theorharris, Martha Biondi, Robert Self, Thomas Sugrue, Stephen Grant Meyer, and others that explore movements for racial justice outside the Deep South. Levy sagely urges us to embrace the emerging complexity of the field, stating that, "no single paradigm explains the civil rights movement or white backlash. The civil rights movement was not neat geographically, chronologically, or ideologically. Its victories and defeats were not as dramatic or as complete as they have often been portrayed Multiple and often contradictory currents existed simultaneously, alongside one another. Some of these currents reinforced each other, while others clashed" (p. 184). Levy concludes by imploring historians to portray the civil rights movement as "a varied and complex social phenomenon, replete with irresolvable paradoxes and contradictions," which seems exactly right to me (p.184). Civil War on Race Street is not without some minor shortcomings. The $55.00 hardback cost makes the book a difficult choice for classroom use and seems exceedingly prohibitive for a work that runs a brisk 191 pages. Hopefully, the forthcoming paperback edition will address this problem and put the book within the grasp of the wider audience it deserves. The manuscript is also pockmarked with minor editing oversights that, while not damning, are noticeable. In addition, given the fascinating and dramatic turns in this history, there were times when I wished for more detail and a more compelling narrative style. As it is, the author takes an efficient and business-like approach to his prose. Finally, Gloria Richardson, the most compelling figure in this story, is not entirely developed here and deserves a full-length biography that explores her life and thought in greater detail. But these are small complaints against an otherwise superb addition to the historiography of post-war African-American freedom movements. Civil War on Race Street deserves the widest possible readership and would be useful in graduate and upper-level undergraduate courses in African-American history.
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Citation:
Patrick Jones. Review of Levy, Peter B., Civil War on Race Street: The Civil Rights Movement in Cambridge, Maryland.
H-1960s, H-Net Reviews.
July, 2004.
URL: http://www.h-net.org/reviews/showrev.php?id=9647
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