|
What
should
be done
with the
architecture
of white
supremacy
when it
still
evokes
pain
By Jay
Reeves
Associated
Press
BIRMINGHAM,
AL -
Growing
up in
the
1950s,
William
Bell had
to enter
Birmingham's
segregated
Lyric
Theatre
though a
side
entrance,
marked
"COLORED,"
that was
walled-off
from the
elegant
lobby.
He
climbed
a dimly
lit
stairwell
to watch
movies
from the
steep
balcony
where
black
patrons
had to
sit for
generations.
Now the
city's
mayor,
he
recalls
the
Lyric's
beauty,
but also
the way
it
isolated
black
people.
The
inequity
built
into The
Lyric
Theatre's
very
architecture
is a
painful
reminder
of the
city's
ugly
past as
one of
the most
segregated
places
in
America.
But it
also
serves
as a
living
history
lesson,
a symbol
of how
the Deep
South
has
changed
since
the
courts
ended
discriminatory
Jim Crow
laws.
Preservationists
had to
decide
whether
to keep
reminders
of The
Lyric's
discarded
color
line
before
they
unveiled
an $11
million
restoration
of the
102-year-old
theater,
which
had been
closed
for
decades.
In this
case,
they
chose to
highlight
the
history,
installing
a glass
door
with the
etched
words
"Historic
Colored
Entrance"
in the
lobby
wall so
patrons
can peer
into the
past.
Across
the
South,
people
are
struggling
with
similar
questions:
What
does a
changing
region
do with
the
vestiges
of
back-alley
service
windows,
segregated
waiting
rooms,
dual
water
fountains
and
abandoned
schools
that
once
formed
the
skeleton
of a
society
built on
oppression?
Northern
states
have
such
reminders,
too. A
black
heritage
trail in
Portsmouth,
New
Hampshire,
includes
all-black
burial
grounds
and a
plaque
which
explains
that
blacks
were
forced
to sit
in
designated
pews in
New
England
churches
through
the
mid-1800s.
In
Detroit,
murals
decorate
a
6-foot-tall
concrete
wall
built in
1941 to
separate
a new
development
meant
for
whites
from an
existing
black
neighborhood.
But the
issue
has
become
particularly
acute in
the
South,
where
millions
still
remember
living
through
segregation.
More so
than in
the
past,
many
older
people
and
younger
generations
now feel
a need
to
discuss
the
legacy
of Jim
Crow,
said
Robert
Weyeneth,
a
University
of South
Carolina
history
professor
who
specializes
in
preservation.
"It has
become
more
complicated
today
because
people
are more
willing
to think
about
the
preservation
of the
architecture
of white
supremacy,"
Weyeneth
said.
"Initially,
no one
wanted
to save
these
things."
Some say
it makes
them
uncomfortable
to see
reminders
of
segregation
at the
Lyric,
but the
mayor
believes
people
must see
history
as it
really
was,
even if
that
means
glancing
up at
the
segregated
balcony
where he
sat as a
young
boy. The
ornate
theater
was
beautiful,
he
recalls,
but
blacks
up there
could
never
mingle
with the
white
patrons
far
below.
"The
best
seats
were on
the
front
row of
the
balcony
because
you
could
flick
popcorn
or
peanuts
down and
it would
land in
their
hair,"
said
Bell,
now 66,
grinning
at the
memory.
"We
should
not
shield
ourselves
from our
past,"
he
added.
Some
other
places
around
the
South
where
communities
have had
to come
to terms
with the
physical
reminders
of
segregation:
OAKLAND
CEMETERY
-
ATLANTA
This
photo
taken
Monday,
Jan. 18,
2016
shows a
wreath
decorating
a grave
in the
black
section
of
once-segregated
Oakland
Cemetery
in
Atlanta.
Opened
in the
1850s as
the
city's
main
burial
ground,
the
cemetery
wasn't
desegregated
legally
until
the
1960s.
Today,
tours
and
educational
materials
highlight
the
vestiges
of Jim
Crow
still
visible
in the
cemetery.
(Photo:
Jay
Reeves,
AP)
Atlanta's
Oakland
Cemetery,
with
70,000
graves
dating
to 1850,
is a
reminder
that
segregation
was
meant to
last
eternally
in the
Jim Crow
South,
and
operators
don't
shy away
from its
history.
The
city-owned
cemetery
was
divided
by race
for
generations
until
the City
Council
ended
the
practice
in 1963,
and
today
some
black
people
are
buried
in
previously
all-white
sections.
That
includes
Atlanta's
first
black
mayor,
Maynard
Jackson,
who died
in 2003
and lies
in an
ivy-covered
grave.
Telling
the
story of
this
segregated
past is
part of
the
educational
mission
at
Oakland,
said
executive
director
David
Moore. A
brochure,
guided
tours
and
audio
exhibits
explain
the
cemetery's
black
section,
which
holds
about
12,000
graves,
and
signs
denote
the
black
section
and
other
areas at
Oakland,
which
also
includes
a Jewish
section
and a
mixed-race
"Potter's
Field"
for
indigent
burials.
A recent
visitor
complained
that the
story of
slave
burials
and
segregation
was
"sad"
and
shouldn't
be
discussed.
Moore
disagrees.
"Cemeteries
provide
a great
place
for
people
to look
and try
to
figure
out what
happened
before,"
he said.
---
MONTPELIER
TRAIN
DEPOT -
ORANGE,
VIRGINIA
In this
Wednesday,
Jan. 27,
2016
photo,
Montpelier
IT
manager,
Richard
Monroe,
walks
his dog
past the
Montpelier
Train
Depot
segregation
exhibit
in
Orange,
Va.
Preservationists
at
President
James
Madison’s
Montpelier
estate,
where
the
white-and-yellow
depot is
located,
decided
to keep
the
segregated
waiting
rooms
when the
structure
was
renovated
in 2010.
(Photo:
Steve
Helber,
AP)
Built in
1910
when
Virginia
and the
rest of
the
South
had laws
that
prevented
whites
and
blacks
from
mingling
in many
public
spaces,
the
Montpelier
Train
Depot at
Orange,
Virginia,
was
constructed
with two
waiting
rooms -
one for
whites
and
another
for
blacks.
Preservationists
at
President
James
Madison's
Montpelier
estate,
where
the
white-and-yellow
depot is
located,
decided
to keep
the
segregated
waiting
rooms
when the
structure
was
renovated
in 2010.
The
depot
remains
an
active
U.S.
Post
Office,
and some
favored
taking
down the
"WHITE"
and
"COLORED"
signs
that
hang
over the
waiting
room
entrances.
Instead,
the
depot
has been
equipped
with
exhibits
that
explain
the
legal
history
of
"separate
but
equal"
laws and
their
effects
on black
residents
during
the Jim
Crow
era.
---
JONES
COUNTY
COURTHOUSE
-
ELLISVILLE,
MISSISSIPPI
In this
Wednesday,
Jan. 27,
2016
photo, a
woman
walks
past one
of the
concrete
water
fountains
in the
front of
the
Jones
County
Courthouse
in
Ellisville,
Miss.
Both
fountains
have
metal
plaques
covering
inscriptions
designating
that one
was for
whites
and the
other
was for
blacks
during
the
segregation
era.
(Photo:
Rogelio
V.
Solis,
AP)
The
metal
plaques
attached
to two
concrete
water
fountains
outside
the
Jones
County
Courthouse
in
Ellisville,
Mississippi,
hide an
ugly
truth:
one
fountain
was
exclusively
for
whites
and the
other
for
blacks
during
the
segregation
era.
The
National
Association
for the
Advancement
of
Colored
People
sought
the
removal
of the
dual
fountains
in 1989,
calling
them a
painful
reminder
of
segregation,
but the
white-controlled
board of
supervisors
refused.
Instead,
officials
plastered
over the
"COLORED"
and
"WHITE"
inscriptions,
which
reappeared
once
rain
washed
away the
plaster.
County
leaders
then
decided
to cover
the old
racial
inscriptions
with
plaques
denoting
the year
the
courthouse
was
built,
1908.
Today,
the twin
water
fountains
still
flank
the
courthouse
stairs.
Nearby
on the
lawn
stands a
monument
to
Confederate
veterans.
---
BUTLER
BEACH -
ST.
AUGUSTINE,
FLORIDA
In this
Tuesday,
Jan. 26,
2016
photo, a
visitor
takes a
photo at
once-segregated
Butler
Beach in
St.
Augustine,
Fla. Now
a public
park,
the
beach
was once
set
aside
for
blacks
during
the
segregation
era.
Today it
is a
popular
destination
for
families
and
other
beachgoers,
but
there is
no
information
posted
at the
site to
inform
visitors
about
its Jim
Crow
past.
(Photo:
Jason
Dearen,
AP)
There's
little
to let
visitors
know
that
Frank B.
Butler
County
Park was
once a
thriving
resort
for
blacks
located
just
south of
segregated
St.
Augustine
Beach,
Florida,
on the
Atlantic
Coast.
The
park's
website
tells
the
story of
Butler,
a black
businessman
who saw
the
opportunity
for a
black
beach in
the
segregated
South
during
the
first
half of
the
1900s.
The
resort
he
created
grew to
include
bathhouses,
a
casino,
pavilions,
a motel
and
other
amenities
for
blacks
who
weren't
allowed
at
white-only
beaches
in the
South.
Yet
those
structures
disappeared
generations
ago, and
black
historian
Bernadette
Reeves
laments
the lack
of
markers
at the
site on
scenic
A1A to
explain
its
significance.
"Can you
imagine
that the
whole
Atlantic
Ocean
wasn't
big
enough
for
whites
and
blacks
to swim
together?"
she
said.
---
ROSENWALD
SCHOOLS
-
REGIONWIDE
This
Wednesday,
Jan. 27,
2016
photo
shows a
classroom
in the
old
Mount
Sinai
Junior
High
School,
a
so-called
"Rosenwald
School"
built
for
rural
blacks
during
the Jim
Crow era
near
Prattville,
Ala.
Philanthropist
Julius
Rosenwald
spurred
the
construction
of more
5,300
schools
for
blacks
across
the
South in
the
early
1900s,
but
fewer
than 450
remain
since
efforts
to save
the
buildings
are
spotty.
(Photo:
Jay
Reeves,
AP)
Philanthropist
Julius
Rosenwald
spurred
the
construction
of more
5,300
schools
for
blacks
across
the
South
over a
two-decade
period
ending
in 1932,
and
efforts
to save
those
buildings
are
spotty.
Rosenwald
built
the
schools
at the
urging
of black
leader
and
educator
Booker
T.
Washington,
who
founded
Tuskegee
University
in rural
east
Alabama
and had
a
firsthand
view of
the
inherent
inequality
of
"separate
but
equal"
schools
for
blacks
and
whites.
Rosenwald's
schools
bridged
the gap
that
white-controlled
governments
wouldn't
fill.
Today,
some
communities
and
groups
have
embraced
the
preservation
of
Rosenwald
schools,
which
typically
were
wood-frame
structures
built
along
rural
roads.
Yet the
National
Trust
for
Historic
Preservation
estimates
that
fewer
than 450
survive
today.
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