White House Chronicle

News Analysis With a Sense of Humor

Memories of Baltimore and Another Riot

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I was in Baltimore the last time it burned. That was back in April 1968, after the assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr. Washington also burned at that time.

There was something surreal about the mood of the riots in both cities. The anger from African-American rioters seemed to be directed wholly against property.

I walked among the rioters, up 14th Street to the U Street Corridor, the commercial hub of the Shaw area of Washington. Later that day, I drove around Baltimore. They seemed to me to be an uncommonly respectful pair of riots.

In Washington, young African-American men directed me where to go safely; one looter, coming out of a shop on 14th and F Street, asked me if I needed anything, as though he were the proprietor.

Over the decades, I have wondered about those riots. I think they were indeed riots of anger as well as sorrow. King, the great civil rights leader, had been murdered, and already people knew there would not be another like him.

For days I drove around Baltimore, where I lived at the time, and Washington, where troops were patrolling and curfews were in place. With a large “PRESS” sign taped on my car’s windshield, I was allowed to drive around both cities, and I watched them come to grips with reality. A Washington Post writer described how a white motorist and a black motorist had waved each other through an intersection, both feeling they were doing something significant.

But Washington is not Baltimore. And, at that time, Baltimore was as segregated as any Southern city.

The proprietor of a bar near The Baltimore News-American, the Hearst newspaper where I worked, would shoo away blacks with this lie, “This is a private club and I can’t serve you, but I can sell you a bottle to go.”

I wanted to challenge this, and urged a black friend on the newspaper, Lee Lassiter, to come with me and make a stand. He averred, not because he was lacking in courage, but because he was fighting another battle over bars. Lassiter and other activists were trying to restrict the spread of cheap bars in the ghetto, where licenses were indiscriminately issued by a white board to white businessmen.

Unlike Washington which, in some ways, was a more secure community and where there was certain amount of integration, the whites in Baltimore took little interest in the blacks. There was no sense that they shared a city.

Baltimore’s politics were white; its sensibilities were white; and it was comfortably assumed that in the profusion of row houses, there were happy blacks, living a happy parallel life — although that term was not used. Not true then, and not true now.

This is a subjective comment, but I have always felt there is a kind of special dejection in the Baltimore ghetto.

While there was manufacturing, steel and shipbuilding and a car plant in Baltimore, guaranteeing good union jobs, there were pockets of prosperity. As these jobs faded in Baltimore, and other American cities, so did the hope for a route to the middle class for those in the ghetto.

As crime increased everywhere, it surged in Baltimore. Gun ownership shot up, mostly among ghetto youth.

Baltimore’s police – who probably felt the affect in their families, if not in their own aspirations, of the end of industrial prosperity — took out their frustrations on those who had even minor malefactions.

Men in uniform easily degenerate into bullies. I saw this in London. When a policeman and a suspect face off, after the policeman is sure that he is not facing an ambush, he has absolute power over the suspect. It is an intrinsically ugly moment: when the handcuffs click, justice and liberty are at bay. Later in court, or through a civilian review, those things may be re-established. But when the suspect is under lock and key, the police power is absolute — and it is absolutely corrupting.

Police officers go over the line often, and I have seen this all over the world. Race worsens things, but it is not a necessary ingredient.

It is sad for me that, 47 years later, Baltimore should have been torched by a mob. It is sad, too, that things in the row houses of Baltimore are as bad as ever, and that the mob is still the only voice black Baltimoreans think they have.

— For the Hearst-New York Times Syndicate

 

Getting a Seat at the Table

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Think of this as a primer for all of those, like the sufferers of the awful disease Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, who need to be heard in Washington and aren't. Silence has a price.
 
There are two branches of lobbying in Washington. The first is big lobbying, with big money making big campaign contributions. The second is everyday lobbying, which is quietly effective, scarcely organized and part of the fabric of decision-making. Call it "informational lobbying."
 
Congress cannot expected to be knowledgeable about a myriad of issues, and this is where the lobbyists perform their often more innocent function. Simply, they know stuff. Their advice isn't always objective, but it's informed.
 
Certainly, Congress has the best research available through the Congressional Research Service of the Library of Congress and all the executive branch agencies. But it's a lot easier to call a friend, where a question can be asked and answered in the vernacular: “Joe, what's the story on the helium shortage?” It can be argued that, at this level, lobbying is not suspect but efficient.
 
Proximity is a force in Washington, familiarity a lever. There are no fingerprints; it's how the system works. A chance meeting in a restaurant can change the course of policy; influence a congressional opinion about something obscure but important, like the Endangered Species  Act, which is now receiving attention on its 40th anniversary.
 
The indictment of this informal lobbying regime is not that it exists and works, but that if you aren't at the table, you won't be heard. Woe betide those who don't have a lobbying operation, however modest, in Washington.
 
The lobby-less must suffer in obscurity: no lobby means no input. No conversation after church or at a kid's soccer game means no information is spreading about actions and decisions that will have impact down the line.
Make no mistake, proximity means a lot in the informing of government. A few casual words will often trump a great academic study.
 
For the past several years, I've taken a keen interest in Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (CFS), also known as Myalgic Encephalomyelitis. It's a disease associated with the suppression, for reasons unknown, of the immune system. To get it is to contract a life sentence of daily suffering, often so severe that patients can be bedridden for years. They think of themselves as “the damned.”
 
This community has issues with the federal government; specifically with the Department of Health and Human Services, which has oversight of the National Institutes of the Health. Yet the advocates for CFS — many of them superbly articulate – aren't heard in Washington.
 
This is very clear, at the moment, when the department, acting through the NIH, has signed a contract with the Institute of Medicine to, according to NIH, to develop “clinical diagnostic criteria” for CFS.
 
This has so enraged the top tier of 35 doctors and researchers in the field that they — risking good relations and future research funding — have written to HHS Secretary Kathleen Sibelius, imploring her to halt this folly. The Institute of Medicine doesn't have expertise in this field, according to the CFS doctors.
 
Most CFS specialists agree that an effective definition of the disease, known as the Canadian Consensus Criteria, is working fine and should be retained. Confusion and expense from Washington aren't needed. A wrong definition can be destructive to research, treatment and patient well-being. It will have consequences.
 
But the protests may have come too late, as knowledge of what the NIH was up to came too late.
 
To me, this bureaucratic shuffle by HHS is an example of the dangers of not having a presence in Washington. Government responds to pressure. No presence, no pressure, no result — or worse, a bad result.
 
You don't need huge money to lobby. Effective lobbying is often a case of simply being there and being known to be there: walking the halls of Congress catches the attention not only of Congress, but also wayward federal departments and the media. — For the Hearst-New York Times Syndicate

Where Are the Dog Days of Yesteryear?

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The Greeks started the whole thing by calling sultry summer weather “Dog Days,” blaming it on the brightest star in the sky besides the Sun, Sirius, also known as the Dog Star. But it was the Romans who really took it seriously: They sacrificed brown dogs to appease the rage of Sirius and ameliorate the weather.

Now, could it be that the Dog Days in Washington are a thing of the past?

The weather has been foul enough, but where is the cessation of news? Where are the soft, feature articles masquerading as news that marked the metaphorical Dog Days? Where are the lesser politicians trying to get noticed for bills they have introduced that will died in committee?

It used to be at this time of year, when Congress was preparing for its long summer recess, things just slowed down, practically flat-lined. Washington emptied; the traffic thinned; no reservations were needed in restaurants; and clubs, like the Metropolitan and the Cosmos, opened their doors to non-members.

While there has been some summer flight, the journalistic and political intensity continues apace. Not only is this an election year, but the whole structure of political reporting has been revolutionized.

In a time of journalistic agony in most publications, political reporting is booming, fed by new technologies and cable news. Well, that is on the surface; out of sight, the furnace is fed by money, lobbying money.

If you want Congress to pass legislation favorable to your interests, or not to pass something unfavorable, then you hire a slew of lobbyists. They, in turn, place “advocacy” ads and the political media are off to the races. These ads appear on air, on line, on paper and on our doorsteps. Some media outlets charge hefty subscription fees, like Congressional Quarterly and National Journal, others are given away. But all seek and promise to lift the veil of secrecy in Washington.

The reporters—for Roll Call, The Hill, The Daily Caller, and hundreds of blogs clustered around publications and television channels, mainstream newspapers and wire services–slice, dice, puree, chop, blend, mix, pound, julienne, mince, whip and, sometimes, flavor the news. But mostly they feed the rapacious, 24-hour news cycle by blowing the slightest slip of the tongue, the smallest infraction of decorum, the inadvertent utterance into national events.

The remarkable new entry in the field is Politico, which exploded on the scene with the considerable fortune of Robert Allbritton, chairman and chief executive officer of Allbritton Communications, which owns television stations in Washington and elsewhere. As an example of innovative multi-platform publishing, it is an exemplar.

The impact in the surge in political reporting across the board is questionable: too many peas of news in mattresses of words. There is no time to investigate, and none to ponder. Better to be first and wrong than second and right.

One result of the swelling ranks of political reporter is politicians have clammed up. It is unwise for them to say anything that has not been vetted by their staffs. Hence, their infatuation with social media.

Here in high summer, one realizes that the glorious lazy, hazy Dog Days are a thing of the past; a time to do that interview you had put off, to try to be little more creative with your writing, to talk the bureau chief or editor into an off-beat story. No, instead, hundreds of political reporters are looking for something, anything, to fill today’s void. Was a congressman seen with a pretty woman (Damn, it is his daughter!)? Did a senator misspell something on her Facebook page?

It is this frenzy for faux news that brought us stories like Acorn, Shirley Sherrod, and the endless sightings of President Obama with known socialists? Whew!

Bring back the ancient Dog Days, but spare the brown dogs.