Commentary by Dan Perkins
Our
nation is currently spending over $4
billion per month to fight terrorism in
Iraq and elsewhere, but after watching
Marshall Curry's documentary
film, STREET FIGHT, which aired
on PBS's POV (Point of View) Series,
one has to wonder if we might not be
better served redirecting a significant
portion of those dollars to bolstering
up our own fragile democracy.
STREET FIGHT chronicles the 2002 mayoral
race in Newark, New Jersey, when
Corey Booker, a 32 year old
councilman, decided to take on four-term
Mayor Sharp James. Both men are
African American, bright and energetic,
but the contrast between the two could
not be more striking.
Marshall Curry succeeds in documenting a
very delicate period in America, and in
Black America. Thirty years ago, Black
politicians marshaled community pride
and hope in order to unseat incumbent
White politicians. Now, in older cities
with large African American populations,
a new generation of African American
candidates can be seen running against
Black incumbents, and the races often
reveal deep divides within Black
America. STREET FIGHT reveals just how
deep those divides can be.
I grew up during the height of the Civil
Rights Movement and was a true believer
in the promise of the Movement. I never
imagined that nearly a half century
after the March on Washington, my
community would have such deep divides.
I believed our struggle for equality
would reveal the dignity and humanity of
African Americans; that it would elevate
America to the level consistent with her
espoused ideals; and that it would bring
forth a greater nation united by our
common values and diverse strengths.
The Movement gave me a sense of pride in
my own heritage. "Say it loud, I'm
Black and I'm proud," were words that
resonated within me. Add the
percussion, the horns and James
Brown's emancipating screams and you
have a sense of the soundtrack that
frequently played in my head as a youth.
As I approached manhood during the late
seventies, the world seemed like a place
of endless possibilities, especially for
those of us who were "Young, Gifted and
Black." There was so much to hope for.
The walls of segregation were being
dismantled, and colleges and university
were eager to market their curricula and
campuses to Black children of promise.
I was thrilled to be one of those
children, and I still feel a strong
connection with all children of
promise. Maybe that is why I was so
captivated by Corey Booker, who is not
only at the center of Marshall Curry's
powerful documentary, but viewed by many
as a Great Black Hope. Although more
than a decade my junior, Curry embodies
the fulfillment of all that my parents
and his parents struggled for during
"The Movement."
I was unfamiliar with Corey Booker prior
to seeing STREET FIGHT, but he has been
compared to Illinois Senator
Barack Obama. Booker is well
educated. He earned an undergraduate
degree from Stanford, where he
also excelled in sports. He also holds
a law degree from Yale.
Articulate, bright, and personable,
Booker is blessed with the looks and
stature to constitute what some might
regard as the total package. In a
memorable scene from the Curry's
documentary, a young African American
girl about 12 years old summed up the
hope that many felt towards the young
councilman. After shaking his hand,
following a surprise encounter, the
young girl excitedly rushes over to
Curry’s camera, sniffs her hand, beams,
and when asked what Booker smells like
declares, "He smells like the future."
What made Booker an attractive candidate
in my book was his expressed desire to
take all of the blessings he had
harvested from "integration" and invest
them back into the community.
I had barely settled into my viewing
chair before discovering that Curry's
STREET FIGHT takes the viewer to both
camps.
I tried to be fair and balanced in my
reaction to the portrayal of Sharpe
James, but the more I saw of him, the
less I liked him. His actions, as
captured by Curry's camera, were too
extreme to warrant balance. Even if
Curry deliberately selected only
unflattering images of James - and I
have no way of knowing whether he did or
didn't do that - what I saw was too much
for me to stomach. Simply stated,
STREET FIGHT shows Sharpe James and his
henchmen acting in ways that are not
only un-American, but dictatorial and
despotic.
Last year, I was profoundly moved by the
film HOTEL RWANDA. Throughout
the film, I kept thinking to myself,
"Thank God, I am an American.” I didn't
want to feel a connection to what was
being depicted in the film. I felt
uncomfortable watching Don Cheadle
portray Paul Rusesabagina, as he
tried to manage events and people inside
Hotel Mille Collins, once
genocidal mayhem took hold of the
country. I tried repeatedly to assure
myself that the horrors that plagued
Rwanda could never happen here in the
United States - not now, not in the age
of television and the Internet. But I
never fully succeeded in convincing
myself of that assertion.
The truth is our world is too fragile
not to think the unthinkable. Whether
it's the actions of home-grown
terrorists like Timothy McViegh
or foreign terrorists linked to Al Qaida,
in the past twenty years, Americans have
seen the unimaginable.
After seeing Curry's STREET FIGHT, I am
even less certain of the strength of our
democracy and Constitutional Rights.
Unlike the head terrorists depicted in
HOTEL RWANDA, Mayor James does not call
his opponent a cockroach, nor does he
advocate his annihilation - at least
Curry didn't document James advocating
that - but Curry does capture James
calling Booker racially offensive names
and resorting to slander and other
despicable acts. James is even recorded
issuing what can only be interpreted as
threats to Booker's supporters and even
a threat to Curry.
Even more frightening are scenes where
Mayor Sharpe James uses the powers of
his office to intimidate and stifle the
democratic process. Curry is not as
harsh in his judgment of James as I am.
He calls James' rough-handed tactics
"machine-style politics." I, on the
other hand, have no problem calling it
unlawful when Newark police officers
attempt to prevent Curry from filming
the mayor at a public event. Curry
is drawn into his own documentary as he
insists upon his right as an American to
film a public figure, at a public event,
on public property. One has to wonder
if the police are allowed to intimidate
the press in Newark, can the city and
its people really be free.
In Curry's documentary, the mayor even
resorts to citing threats of terrorism
to harass one of Booker's supporters.
When I was much younger, I use to wonder
what my life would be like if African
Americans were granted their own
nation. It was something that Nation
of Islam founder Elijah Muhammad
used to advocate, and at the time, it
seemed like a potentially feasible
alternative to an increasingly stalled
Movement. Today, I no longer think
about a separate nation. Without the
stewardship of some benevolent force, an
independent Black America would regress
into Zimbabwe, or Liberia (which was
established as a nation by freed African
Americans), or it would become Newark.
The regression would occur
not
because African Americans are any less
moral or principled than their White
counterparts, but the regression would
occur because exploitive individuals
like Sharpe James would seize power and
would do everything and anything to
retain it. Regression would also occur
because too many African Americans would
likely surrender their vote - their
liberties and their rights for whatever
was most expedient. One can see that
happen in Curry's compelling account of
the 2002 mayoral race in Newark.
I saw it in Chicago, in 1982, when
Harold Washington made his run for
the mayoralty. Then incumbent mayor,
Jane Byrne, a white woman, sent foot
soldiers out on election day to offer
individuals in Chicago's poor and
working class Black neighborhoods a can
of ham, or a box of cheese, or a set of
underwear, if they voted for her. While
my video crew was recording their
antics, several people rushed passed me
and told me to flee because a gang was
on its way to rough us up and steal our
equipment.
Perhaps my emotional response to
political abuses in Curry's film
reflects unresolved feelings about my
own experiences with street-side
politics.
Before my crew and I rushed into our van
to avoid contact with a vehicle filled
with menacing young men that was racing
towards us, I witnessed several African
Americans willingly accept Byrne's
bribes.
Curry's documentary shows people in
Newark cowering to James' henchmen, his
threats, and his intimidation, and it's
disheartening. It isn't that they
are bad people, or weak-willed, but as
one entrepreneur who had a city contract
said, he had to eat and feed his family.
Long before STREET FIGHT ends, it
becomes apparent that in Newark, might
and corruption hold sway, not the will
of the people. I was stunned into
silence by this real life example of Mr.
Potter beating George Bailey. By the
end of Curry's film, I'm convinced that,
in reality, It's Not a
Wonderful Life.
As I turned off my television set, I was
overcome by a profound sense of sadness
- sadness for Booker, the city and
people of Newark, the Movement, the
Black Revolution, and sadness for
America itself. I felt especially sad
as my thoughts drifted over to the young
men and women who are serving in Iraq
for principles that so many of us fail
to uphold here at home.
I couldn't help but wonder how James
could remain in office after being
filmed doing what he did in Curry's
documentary. As I reflected further
upon the matter, I recalled the
expression that “all politics is local,”
and I concluded that the mess must only
thicken the higher up one goes.
Hats off to Marshall Curry for making
this courageous film, and hats off to
PBS for showing it on our public
airwaves. POV: STREET FIGHT is a film
every American and every Black American
needs to see.
Maybe, just maybe, we can care enough to
preserve what is left of our own fragile
and eroding democracy.
THE END
To learn more about STREET FIGHT and the
2002 mayoral election in Newark, visit
www.pbs.org/pov2005/streetfight/.
