Bob Cramer's Blog

Like communities nationwide, Atlanta faces a renewal of civic activism related to race, inequality, and justice. Triggered by police brutality and negligence, an anger and frustration that  has been simmering just under the surface has rightfully spilled out on our streets, leading to much needed discussions on how to create a more inclusive and just society.

Atlanta’s experience with race and fairness is far more complicated than the convenient and inaccurate 1960 marketing slogan of “the city too busy to hate”. Nothing says that this statement is not true more than a key piece of our city’s infrastructure known to all Atlantans: Interstate highway 75/85 running straight through the middle of downtown, built that way for the express purpose of keeping black and white Atlantans apart.  

In order to make progress going forward, we must understand Atlanta’s complicated and checkered history with race.  Fortunately, there are great resources available to provide context and perspective.  One of the best and most honest histories of race relations in Atlanta is Clarence Stone’s Regime Politics, which covers governing Atlanta from 1946 to 1988. It is a fascinating read.

More perspective is also available in the new Ken Burns PBS documentary, East Lake Meadows, a public housing story raising critical questions about race and poverty.  When you watch it, you will understand the mindset that has driven Atlanta public policy decisions for decades.

Personally, as a 30-year volunteer, starting in 1986 with 14 years as the Board Chairman of the Metro-Atlanta Task Force for the Homeless, the struggle to help vulnerable Atlantans is one with which I have some experience.  Unfortunately, it is another chapter that reflects poorly on our political and business community leadership. This truth needs to be acknowledged.

Some disturbing examples that stand out are policies such as “Vagrant Free Zones”, a 1986  initiative led by the downtown business organization that would later be called Central Atlanta Progress.  Besides the revolting ordinance name, A NY Times article says that the legislation asserts the need “to reduce the “”aimless wandering”” of Atlanta’s estimated 5,000 homeless, who business leaders think make visitors feel unsafe and uncomfortable.”  One protestor of the ordinance said,  “We’re talking about arresting people for simply being on Peachtree Street if they don’t look like the white upper class.”

10 years later, Vagrant Free Zones were replaced by a new string of policy initiatives called “Quality of Life” ordinances.  Passed by the City Council in 1996, a public policy analysis of the first ordinance describe it this way:

“The ordinance prohibits lying down, sleeping, regular meal preparation, and storing belongings on public property. The ordinance is controversial because it criminalizes behaviors of homeless individuals who have no private property and therefore no choice but to perform tasks necessary to life on public lands. The ordinance’s passage in Atlanta is at least partly the result of a post Olympic private sector growth in power that capitalized on growing concerns about public safety and urban economic vitality. During its first year, the ordinance disproportionately impacted homeless persons.”

That same year, as reported in a feature by the American Bar Association:

“The task force sued the city over police sweeps clearing the streets of black men in preparation for Atlanta’s international debut hosting the Olympics. They complained that newly enacted ordinances against panhandling and loitering were used improperly to round up 9,000 people as police carried blank arrest papers preprinted with “African-American male” and “homeless” on them. (Around the same time, the city also infamously offered free, one-way bus tickets anyplace in the U.S. for homeless people willing to leave.)

The Boston office of Ropes & Gray represented the plaintiffs. A federal judge issued a restraining order two days before the Olympics opening ceremonies, and the city later settled by paying $3,000 each to five homeless men and $60,000 to fund a homelessness advocate.”

In 1997, The Task Force For The Homeless, purchased the Peachtree-Pine building, a large 95,000 square foot building on Peachtree Street, with the goal of creating a place for vulnerable people to leave the streets, access a wide variety of services, and embark on a more positive journey.  As Anita Beaty, our executive director, would say, it was a place where people could go to find  “what makes their heart sing.”

Instead of being embraced as a long-needed, humane solution to downtown homelessness, Mayor Bill Campbell’s political leadership immediately took a hostile approach to the project. The Chairman of the Woodruff Foundation followed suit, publicly announcing that the building “must have a higher and better use” than a shelter.  Furthermore, Central Atlanta Progress also worked to undermine all the potential of Peachtree-Pine, and the future administrations of Mayors Shirley Franklin and Kasim Reed were equally combative.

The history of the Peachtree-Pine building became a decades-long saga of poverty versus power, as I wrote in the AJC in 2011.   Over that time span, tens of thousands of vulnerable people were helped, fed, housed, and loved, while comprehensive renovation plans for the complex structure were scoped.  But despite valiant attempts to build an open, caring and innovative social service center in the heart of our city, next to a hospital, addressing huge unmet human need, the Task Force, its building, and our community were subject to relentless attacks from Atlanta’s leadership elite.  These tactics led to threats, lawsuits, and a complete loss of perspective in working together to serve our most vulnerable residents.  Sadly, this dark period and the eventual sale and closing of Peachtree-Pine represents a huge missed opportunity to proactively address many of the issues that we wrestle with today. (AJC columnist Bill Torpy’s article at the time summed it up well).

Fortunately, all is certainly not lost.  With a new group of young Atlantans mobilized to make changes, and Mayor Keisha Lance Bottoms distinguishing herself as a leader in a time of crisis, we move forward with cautious optimism.  Over the years, a healthy number of new non-profit organizations have stepped up to address poverty and homelessness.  The Westside Project looks promising as does the renewed commitment from our community leaders to finally get things right.  Inspiration also comes from groups like YearUp, who help young people from disadvantaged neighborhoods cross the “opportunity divide” towards economic justice and prosperity.

Hopefully, the intense nature of the current national conversation will continue to bend the curve towards inclusion, greater humanity, and an Atlanta that lives up to its best ideals.