I would not cast a ballot for Texas Governor Rick Perry for President if a gun was held to my head in the voting booth—an easy thing to say since the likelihood of him winning the Republican nomination is about the same as me being asked to take over a network anchor desk.
So as the Texan prepares to mount his steed and ride of into the political sunset, I will defend him against the cheap shots being taken by journalists as a result of a racial epithet–”Niggerhead”—on a flat rock many years ago at the entrance of his daddy’s hunting camp. According to the Washington Post, the offensive term was obscured by white paint but remained visible for an indefinite period of time. The newspaper is vague on when that occurred, if it still exists, or more importantly, who their sources were for the story.
Like most people—those who don’t wear KKK hoods or have retired their sheets with eye-holes, or belong to the Tea Party—I find the racially charged word offensive. As a journalist, albeit semi-retired, I find the Washington Post story and all the attendant furor strange. Earlier this week, Comedy Central put the scandal in perspective.
http://blog.videosift.com/video/Wyatt-Cenac-on-Perrys-Niggerhead-Ranch-Amazing-Racism
The New York Times also weighed in on the issue of racially-inflammatory words, but omitted mentioning “Nigger Lake” in upstate New York.
The Time’s omission of one of its own seems curious. Maybe it was because state got around to changing the name a couple of months ago, which is a few years after the epithet was obscured on the Perry property.
I grew up in the deep south. Born in Nashville, Tennessee, I came of age—whatever the hell that means—in the 1940’s and fifties in two Alabama towns, Mobile and Tuscaloosa. Sad to say, the “N” word was used by my parents, friends and, yes, by me. “Colored” was the usual alternative to the then political proper term, ”negro,” which was sometimes pronounced “nigra” by my fellow southerners.
I don’t remember my age when I first became sensitive to the “N” word. As I wrote in my memoir, Jackie Robinson may have helped educate me.
I was thirteen years old and working as “roof boy” for the minor league Mobile Bears, retrieving foul balls that landed on top of the grandstand. A screen at the rear of the roof prevented them from going into the parking lot. Before and after games, I ran errands for players. I was paid fifty cents a night, plus tips, to watch baseball games and hang around professional athletes. It was great.
On trips north from Florida spring training in those days, major league teams played exhibition games in the cities of minor league farm clubs. The Bears were affiliated with the old Brooklyn Dodgers. When the team bus arrived at Mobile’s Hartwell Field in 1949, I helped the Major League’s first black player carry his equipment bag to the clubhouse. Daddy was not impressed.
“Hey, Marie,” he called to mother. “Come and listen to Johnny brag about carrying a nigger’s suitcase.” It was supposed to be a joke―a symptom of culturally ingrained Southern prejudices.
The Robinson remark is the first time I can recall feeling embarrassed by the word. In dad’s defense, his racial attitudes gradually changed over the years. And when I took up the civil rights banner years in the 1960’s, he bragged to friends about my support of the cause.
I guess my so-called “enlightened” racial attitudes took root in the military. In Okinawa in 1954, I was the first airman in my barracks to choose a black roommate. My friend’s name was Jesse James (J.J.) White and we took great pleasure in our roles as barracks racial pioneers.
My point is that people change—even culturally ignorant redneck boys from the deep south. From all I can discern, Texas Governor Rick Perry has made a genuine effort to be racially inclusive in his appointments to key government posts. So give the guy a break.
There are plenty of Perry missteps to report. Race is not one. According to the Internet news site, Slate, 174 geographic locations in the United States bear the “N” word name or some variation. Add to that number scores of other racial, ethnic and nationality insults. Who are the politicians represented these areas? Who cares?
Unfortunately, the Washington Post story on Perry is symptomatic of cheap-shot journalism. Reporters—especially those covering national politics—are either too lazy or too incompetent to uncover real news.
No wonder the media has lost its credibility.
My memoir, Odyssey of a Derelict Gunslinger: A Saga of Exposing TV Preachers, Corrupt Politicians, Right-Wing Lunatics…and Me is available at amazon.com, soft-cover or Kindle and at independent bookstores like the Cottonwood in Baton Rouge. It offers $19.99 worth of laughs and much more. The book is an account of my illustrious (I choose the adjectives) investigative reporting career. jblisscamp@aol.com.
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