Racist Ghost Gets Others to Say It Loud
By CLYDE HABERMAN
NYC
The New York Times
July 3, 2007
How much longer will Sonny Carson cast a shadow over New York politics? At least for a while. Dead though he has been, going on five years, the city has yet to see the last of him, in spirit anyway.
That much was clear from a display of street theater yesterday on the steps of City Hall that was straight out of the 1960s, down to “black power” salutes and talk of “self-determination” for African-Americans.
Mr. Carson, you will recall, was a black activist, community leader and proud racist. That last item in his curriculum vitae is what a recent fuss over him is about. Years ago, he called for boycotts of Korean deli owners because they were Korean. Jews fared no better in his estimation, though he bristled when asked if he was an anti-Semite. “I’m antiwhite,” he said. “Don’t limit my antis to one group of people.”
Mr. Carson is back from the dead, so to speak, because a Brooklyn community board wanted to name a stretch of Gates Avenue in Bedford-Stuyvesant in his honor. Not a chance, said the City Council speaker, Christine C. Quinn, who had his name stripped from an omnibus bill renaming more than 50 streets around town. No honors for bigots, Ms. Quinn said.
That led to a fight over whether neighborhoods should decide such matters for themselves. In parts of Brooklyn, cries of “self-determination” arose, a term normally used in regard to nations seeking sovereignty. Totally rejected was the notion that this is not the Balkans and that the city as a whole might have an interest in vetting street names to weed out dubious characters like racists, whatever their color.
A few weeks ago, at the height of this battle, the Council rejected an attempt to revive Carson Street. The vote was essentially along racial lines, with white members supporting Ms. Quinn and nonwhites opposed. But on the fence were seven black and Latino members who abstained. One of them was the deputy speaker, Councilman Leroy G. Comrie Jr. of Queens.
His abstention sent Viola Plummer into a rhetorical frenzy. Ms. Plummer, 70, is an avowed revolutionary. Part of her charm is a tendency to refer to whites as “crackers.” She is also chief of staff to Councilman Charles Barron of Brooklyn, a former Black Panther who all but calls it a white plot if it rains in black neighborhoods.
After Mr. Comrie’s abstention, Ms. Plummer threatened him in mildly vulgar terms with “assassination.” She meant only political assassination, she said later; she would work to kill his career. But her choice of words riled Ms. Quinn.
Last week, asserting her primacy over Council employees no matter whom they worked for, she ordered that Ms. Plummer be suspended without pay for six weeks. In a letter, the speaker warned Ms. Plummer that unless she signed a pledge to behave “appropriately” from now on, she would be fired.
And that is how Mr. Barron, Ms. Plummer and about 70 supporters — most of them aging refugees from the radical 1960s — came to stand on the steps of City Hall yesterday.
They promised to fight the suspension and the threatened dismissal in federal court in Manhattan. A hearing is expected today. No way would Ms. Plummer be cowed, Mr. Barron said. To show the attending cameras that he meant business, he took a copy of Ms. Quinn’s letter and tore it in half, then in quarters, then eighths, then sixteenths. He tossed the pieces to the ground. “Chris,” he said dismissively of Ms. Quinn, “pick it up.”
WE’RE not bowing down to white supremacy,” Mr. Barron said. “We have a right to self-determination,” he said. The Council, he said, is a “plantation” where black members are expected “to keep buck-dancing.” As for Ms. Plummer’s language, “everybody uses the term ‘assassination,’ ” he said.
Oh, and if the judge should side with Ms. Quinn — and “usually the courts support white folks in power,” Mr. Barron said — Ms. Plummer could work for him as a volunteer. “I have a salary that I can share,” he said.
All that was left to complete the ’60s flashback was some chanting and an invocation or two of Sonny Carson’s name.
“Viola Plummer,” Mr. Barron called out.
“Freedom fighter,” the crowd responded.
They then moved to the northern edge of City Hall Park, rallying there and ending with raised fists and a cry of “black power.” For all that, Ms. Plummer remained on suspension.
E-mail: haberman@nytimes.com
NYC
The New York Times
July 3, 2007
How much longer will Sonny Carson cast a shadow over New York politics? At least for a while. Dead though he has been, going on five years, the city has yet to see the last of him, in spirit anyway.
That much was clear from a display of street theater yesterday on the steps of City Hall that was straight out of the 1960s, down to “black power” salutes and talk of “self-determination” for African-Americans.
Mr. Carson, you will recall, was a black activist, community leader and proud racist. That last item in his curriculum vitae is what a recent fuss over him is about. Years ago, he called for boycotts of Korean deli owners because they were Korean. Jews fared no better in his estimation, though he bristled when asked if he was an anti-Semite. “I’m antiwhite,” he said. “Don’t limit my antis to one group of people.”
Mr. Carson is back from the dead, so to speak, because a Brooklyn community board wanted to name a stretch of Gates Avenue in Bedford-Stuyvesant in his honor. Not a chance, said the City Council speaker, Christine C. Quinn, who had his name stripped from an omnibus bill renaming more than 50 streets around town. No honors for bigots, Ms. Quinn said.
That led to a fight over whether neighborhoods should decide such matters for themselves. In parts of Brooklyn, cries of “self-determination” arose, a term normally used in regard to nations seeking sovereignty. Totally rejected was the notion that this is not the Balkans and that the city as a whole might have an interest in vetting street names to weed out dubious characters like racists, whatever their color.
A few weeks ago, at the height of this battle, the Council rejected an attempt to revive Carson Street. The vote was essentially along racial lines, with white members supporting Ms. Quinn and nonwhites opposed. But on the fence were seven black and Latino members who abstained. One of them was the deputy speaker, Councilman Leroy G. Comrie Jr. of Queens.
His abstention sent Viola Plummer into a rhetorical frenzy. Ms. Plummer, 70, is an avowed revolutionary. Part of her charm is a tendency to refer to whites as “crackers.” She is also chief of staff to Councilman Charles Barron of Brooklyn, a former Black Panther who all but calls it a white plot if it rains in black neighborhoods.
After Mr. Comrie’s abstention, Ms. Plummer threatened him in mildly vulgar terms with “assassination.” She meant only political assassination, she said later; she would work to kill his career. But her choice of words riled Ms. Quinn.
Last week, asserting her primacy over Council employees no matter whom they worked for, she ordered that Ms. Plummer be suspended without pay for six weeks. In a letter, the speaker warned Ms. Plummer that unless she signed a pledge to behave “appropriately” from now on, she would be fired.
And that is how Mr. Barron, Ms. Plummer and about 70 supporters — most of them aging refugees from the radical 1960s — came to stand on the steps of City Hall yesterday.
They promised to fight the suspension and the threatened dismissal in federal court in Manhattan. A hearing is expected today. No way would Ms. Plummer be cowed, Mr. Barron said. To show the attending cameras that he meant business, he took a copy of Ms. Quinn’s letter and tore it in half, then in quarters, then eighths, then sixteenths. He tossed the pieces to the ground. “Chris,” he said dismissively of Ms. Quinn, “pick it up.”
WE’RE not bowing down to white supremacy,” Mr. Barron said. “We have a right to self-determination,” he said. The Council, he said, is a “plantation” where black members are expected “to keep buck-dancing.” As for Ms. Plummer’s language, “everybody uses the term ‘assassination,’ ” he said.
Oh, and if the judge should side with Ms. Quinn — and “usually the courts support white folks in power,” Mr. Barron said — Ms. Plummer could work for him as a volunteer. “I have a salary that I can share,” he said.
All that was left to complete the ’60s flashback was some chanting and an invocation or two of Sonny Carson’s name.
“Viola Plummer,” Mr. Barron called out.
“Freedom fighter,” the crowd responded.
They then moved to the northern edge of City Hall Park, rallying there and ending with raised fists and a cry of “black power.” For all that, Ms. Plummer remained on suspension.
E-mail: haberman@nytimes.com
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