We called it something else; but here and there desegregation takes place, like in Ferguson, Missouri. Police killed teenager Michael Brown; from all I’ve heard, this is not a racial murder. True, Mr. Brown was spotted without firearms. Officer Darren Wilson brought his official sidearm.
Few called it segregation; the word is seldom used in 2014. The Washington Post is not the by-law in black-white relations, but the editors dubbed “intersected.” Whatever it caused, Mr. Brown lost his place and his life. Mr. Wilson disappeared, fearful of the mob’s vigilance. He must have figured out – with his officials present – the officer figured the story was imbalanced without his name. So he admitted guilt, on Friday.
On the other hand, the population of Ferguson is two-thirds black – typical of the rural South. When I was a boy, before World War II, the Negroes overwhelmed the whites, maybe 40 to one. We lived through it. You can take literally the film, “The Help” – the pettiness and tyranny; races practiced them against each other. At least in Ferguson the facts are clear from early in the incident.
Mr. Brown and Dorian Johnson were out-and-about Saturday evening. They stopped by a general merchandise store; they were interested in cigars. Later, Mr. Brown took stogies, worth $48, the police said. Under $50, it cost a man’s life. It’s ridiculous.
Of course, before the war, I remember the lives of black men went for less. But in this era, after massacres in the street, I don’t know; there are valuable cigars. Governor Jay Nixon appeared before the protestors and invoked a midnight curfew against them. They ignored him.
Meanwhile, they’re out in streets in Ferguson in rural Missouri!