The following is a Counterpoint column:
By Steve Flynn
I would ask our city leaders, and those citizens of Greensboro who share their skepticism, to take another look at the work of the Truth & Reconciliation Commission.
While I have had my own questions about this project, I found the first round of hearings a revelation. Having attended every fascinating minute, I would characterize them as part confessional, part first-person history lesson.
I learned so much from the statement of Claude Barnes, N.C. A&T political scientist, telling of his boyhood growing up in one of Greensboro's poor but proud Jim Crow housing projects. That neighborhood was Morningside Homes, the very community where the tragic events of 1979 took place.
It was moving to hear his recounting of the Dudley High School revolt of 1969, which later spilled onto the A&T campus. Armed National Guardsmen stormed Scott Hall, lobbing tear gas and firing bullets (one A&T student was killed and two others were wounded). As Barnes sees it, the events of 1969 and 1979 came as no surprise to many in the black community.
I was charmed by the wit and wisdom of Nettie Coad. For 30 years, Coad has been a vocal activist in the black community. She had the courage to demand that Greensboro's white leaders recognize that the citizens of the city's black neighborhoods were entitled under federal law to the same rights enjoyed by most white citizens: decent housing, medical care, safe streets, street lights, parks and good schools.
The hearings also contained some unexpected, very human moments, including the testimony of author Elizabeth Wheaton, who has written a book about the Nov. 3, 1979, tragedy. She emotionally praised two Greensboro police officers for their actions on that terrible day. In her view, their performance was admirable, even courageous. Yet, it has remained publicly unrecognized.
She chose to take the occasion of her statement to get this on the public record. For me, the "human moment" of her testimony came when I observed three Greensboro police officers standing just 20 feet away from the table where she was speaking. They were poker-faced, of course (it must come with the training), so I couldn't tell what they were thinking. Still, I would like to believe that they were listening to, and feeling good about, that unusual moment of public praise for the important contributions of their police colleagues.
The writer lives in Greensboro.