THE BRIEFCASE BLACKS

JUST A FEW NIGHTS EARLIER, DALLAS PO-lice had rousted a group of crack users holed up in an abandoned apartment building near T.A. Sneed’s office. The previous night, gunshots reverberated so close to his window that he could see flashes of gunpowder. Not too long ago. a prostitute approached him. threw up her blouse, and offered him what he saw and more. “A few days later I gave her a bag full of clothes and she apologized for propositioning me,” Sneed recalls. “She even cried because she felt I didn’t believe her apology was sincere.”

At the top of steps leading to his two-story, shotgun-style house in South Dallas, Sneed, a thirty-eight-year-old lawyer, stands with a visitor and surveys the scene. The dismal-ness is accentuated this particular morning by a persistent drizzle that seems to accent the hopelessness and tear that pervades most of this forgotten part of Dallas.

Sneed is disgusted with what he calls a gradual “worsening of social services and economic conditions right here on my doorstop.” He blames part of District 6’s blighted and depressed state on City Council member Diane Ragsdale, the controversial but still popular political matriarch who has held the seat since 1984.

Sneed says that it’s time for Ragsdale to move on-but at the last minute, he decided against challenging her in the May 6 municipal elections. For one thing, Sneed knows that Ragsdale enjoys the rock-solid allegiance of many of her constituents. But his main reason for bowing out was money, the stumbling block for many a minority campaign . Sneed says he had offers of financial backing from a group of North Dallas power brokers, most of them white, but he was worried that accepting such backing would make him vulnerable to charges of being the Establishment’s boy, a death knell to a candidate in the black community.

For now, Sneed is biding his time, if not holding his tongue. He believes that Ragsdale is already “shell shocked and battle scarred” from five years of political combat and confrontation, but he’ll wait until 1991, when Ragsdale will be ineligible to run again. He vows to finance most or all of that campaign with his own money.

Sneed says his issues will be “drugs, prostitution, and the economic conditions that have caused the ills of South Dallas and the loss of self-respect in its residents.” He wants to make “the prostitutes and everyone else here feel good about themselves again.”

Sneed, who moved to Dallas nine years ago from Atlanta to work in the legal department at Trailway Lines Inc., represents a new breed of black leaders and would-be leaders emerging from the usually silent black middle class, a so-called cadre of “briefcase blacks.” Possessing little or no political experience, these mostly business or professional types do have years of boardroom negotiating savvy that they feel can be applied to the political arena, and a style that does not tend to inflame tempers on touchy racial issues. The members of this emerging sect believe that the Ragsdales, the John Wiley Prices, the Al Lipscombs are doing black Dallas little good. The future, they claim, belongs to more conciliatory minority leaders who can deliver more than noisy theatrics.



OCTOBER 26. 1986. THE DAY THAT A WHITE police officer shot an elderly black woman named Etta Collins will be, for many, forever etched in memory as the dawn of a new era in the black community. Before that incident, which set off a bitter controversy over police-minority relations, progress had stalled somewhat for crusading blacks whose goal was to give minorities more voice in the government that proposes to serve their best interests.

The Collins killing gave the black community a cause, moving its most vociferous leaders to attack the mainstream community when it was vulnerable. In the wake of congressional hearings into police insensitivi-ties, the resignation of a beleaguered police chief, a tumultuous compromise on the citizens’ police review board, and a slew of new civil rights lawsuits, those leaders now claim significant and legitimate progress. They can say, with some justice, that confrontational tactics have brought advances. For minorities, wargames with the police department and an incessant jockeying for political position have dominated the Eighties, and with those pursuits has come a measure of aggressiveness unheard of not long ago. On the surface, at least, it seems that black Dallas’s momentum has put white Dallas on the defensive-nervous and unsure how to meet the challenge that many insist is long overdue. City leaders are beginning to realize that nonemotional, clinical discourse in a committee meeting setting is no longer seen by minorities as the only-or the most effective-way of dealing with their concerns. Even the chair of Dallas Together, the multiracial commission formed in early 1988 by Mayor Annette Strauss to help ease racial tensions, says that some black leaders have stopped even faking an interest in committee dialogues. Chair Tom Dunning says Dallas Together has been “very inclusive” in bringing all elements of the city together, but he admits that certain key blacks, Diane Ragsdale among them, refused to participate. “1 sat down and talked with her,” Dunning says, “and she wasn’t overly optimistic about the chances of our success. But she wished us well.” (Ragsdale cites “schedule conflicts” as her reason for missing almost all of the Dallas Together meetings.)

Whites who are leery of black gains should not think that the briefcase blacks, if elected, will turn back the clock to the complacent days of the Fifties. Both the more strident black leaders (primarily Ragsdale, Lipscomb, and Price) and those who would usher in a quieter, more cooperative age (Sneed and company) are prepared to take matters into their own hands. In a newspaper article last January, Price was quoted as saying that a coalition of blacks and Hispanics are grooming a minority candidate for the 1991 mayoral election. In a separate interview, Dallas Black Chamber of Commerce president John Dodd echoed similar sentiments, admitting that “right now, the black community is looking for, and needs, a strong advocate.”

But who? At a time when black Dallas is in its best position ever to deal with white decision-makers, the community is speaking in a babble of conflicting voices. As a whole, black leadership in Dallas has always been divided and fragmented by petty jealousies and secret personal agendas, inhibiting the ability of minorities to pull together effectively.

“We have isolated ourselves and haven’t seen fit to build coalitions with other minorities,” says former Dallas Cowboy and community activist Pettis Norman. “And that’s a prescription for doom.” Norman, who serves as co-chair for Dallas Together, says the reluctance of Ragsdale and others to stick with the committee is understandable, but he suggests that they may have shortchanged themselves and their future. “I can understand their frustrations, but we haven’t seen fit to negotiate to a point where we can get some of what we want.”

The question is one of style. Do you shake your fist on the 10 o’clock news, or pound the boardroom table behind closed doors? T. A. Sneed believes that leaders should put positive opportunities in front of the public in the same way that, in a business situation, an employee frames solutions for the boss. He dismisses Diane Ragsdale’s politics as “too many words and no action.”

“Diane and Al mean well.” Sneed says, “but they have a twofold job-first, to raise the consciousness of Dallas, and second, to move off of square one. I think Diane is frustrated and confused with respect to moving off of square one. I think she doesn’t know what to do now.”



THE CHARGE THAT “JOHN, DIANE, and Al” don’t represent all of black Dallas has been circulating for almost as long as the trio has symbolized the more combative black political style. And evidence suggests that the accusation doesn’t emanate solely from the white community. Minority leaders who preceded the current regime-and who often cozied up to white leaders and quietly abided by their rules-are believed to be fueling the theory that the more outspoken black leaders don’t represent the majority of blacks, especially those in the growing middle class. As one promi-1 nent black South Dallas businessman put it, ’ “A lot of us think Diane is so popular with | her people only because of the police crisis and the fact that she talks back to the white folks. A lot of us also think that her usefulness has waned.”

T.A. Sneed is one of them. So is busi-nessman Robert Parish, who was soundly trounced last spring in trying to stop the reelection bid of County Commissioner Price. Corporate executive Lonnie Murphy is another briefcase black who made an impressive showing in his unsuccessful bid to unseat Lipscomb in 1987 and provided the theme-“negotiation over confrontation”- I for Sneed and his counterparts.

“Al is good about pointing out problems,” says Murphy. “But how often do we have a solution?”

The Rev. S.M. Wright, president of the In-terdenominational Ministers Alliance, the seat of power among black pastors, is a proponent of that less confrontational leadership style and an ardent supporter of the rise of the briefcase brigade. Wright, who makes no bones about his dislike for Commissioner Price, bankrolled Parish’s effort to stop Price’s reelection last year, and was embarrassed when Price sucked in 75 percent of the vote.

Speaking before a group of black business owners in January, Wright strongly hinted that mainstream Dallas is resisting changes sought by minorities because of certain “overbearing minority leaders who use the same methods to address every problem and crisis.”

With Price. Ragsdale. and Lipscomb seemingly secure in their elected posts, the highest-ranking minority who could be said to belong to the briefcase sect is City Manager Richard Knight. Knight enjoys widespread confidence and respect among the city’s Anglo leaders, but has fared less well within his own community. When Knight huddled with Dallas billionaire Ross Perot last summer and hastily hatched a plan for revamping the citizens’ police review board, he barely escaped lynching at the hands of black leaders. An angry Ragsdale publicly promised Knight that he would “get his.”

When Knight moved to replace police chief Billy Prince, considered a notorious enemy by some hard-line minority leaders, and chose the bold, conciliatory Mack Vines, he was vindicated somewhat-at least until the next police crisis comes along. But the damage was done. Some black leaders fear that Knight’s rise to power has realigned his loyalties.

Pettis Norman, perhaps the most promising of Dallas’s current crop of briefcase blacks, has changed greatly since the days when he had to be physically restrained at times when arguing with whites. His critics are suspicious of Norman’s eagerness to play ball with the Dallas establishment, but they’re also impressed by his effectiveness behind closed doors.

Though Norman and Price frequently work together and consider themselves close friends, their individual approaches are glaringly different at times. For instance. Price had warned that the police review board compromise would have a ’”devastating impact” on South Dallas; Norman downplayed the effect. “I don’t agree with some of the things in the compromise,” Norman says. “But the fact is, the review board is an after-the-fact symbol. It doesn’t affect how the system will ultimately change or work. The masses will sense this and wait to see how things develop.”

Norman agrees that his style is different from Price’s, but believes that the two arc moving closer together. “I’m not saying I’m always right, but I am saying that black leaders need to sit down more often,” he says. “John [Price] has learned a lot about negotiating and building upon that. He’s gotten better at it.”

Some see Norman as the next decade’s great black hope. Rumors are quietly floating to the effect that former Dallas Cowboys quarterback Roger Staubach. Mayor Strauss, and others are working to groom Norman for a run at mayor sometime within the next ten years. It appears that at least some of Norman’s peers would be supportive. Major General Hugh Robinson, formerly head of Southland Corporation’s Cityplace project and one of a handful of blacks in the Dallas Citizens Council, says “Pettis has made a commitment to community service and has a good record of it.” Tom Dunning agrees. “Pettis has excellent vision and can articulate his position well.” City Council member Lori Palmer sees in Norman an ability to organize. “I see these moments,” she says, “but they must be concerted efforts that are constant and ever moving forward.” And what of his chances for mayor? Says Dunning. “I think Pettis can do whatever he wants to in Dallas.”

Whether any of these leaders can achieve the visibility that belongs to “John, Diane, and Al” remains to be seen. And their fate may be determined more by economics than politics. If Dallas’s recovery carries a black middle class with it down the road to increased prosperity, there may be continued pressure for a change to a more conciliatory style. Meanwhile, it’s obvious that Price, Ragsdale, and Lipscomb are supported by a majority of their respective constituencies. Because of their influence and visibility, they are considered the anointed leaders of black Dallas. As the Rev. Peter Johnson, president of the local Southern Christian Leadership Conference chapter, puts it. “Dallas is a city in labor, and Diane Ragsdale is the midwife. She’s saying ’you’ve got to push, Dallas. We’ve got to deliver this baby.’ The baby that’s being born is equal justice.”

“The prevailing opinion is that there is still a real need for Al, Diane. Price, and some of the others.” says Hugh Robinson, adding that he’s spent a lot of time defending black leaders to white and black businessmen alike. “I’ve also spoken to many of these so-called briefcase black types that stand behind most of our black leaders 100 percent,” says Robinson, possibly Dallas’s best-connected black. “But if any of them winces or becomes embarrassed or angry when they see Ragsdale, Price, or Lipscomb on their television screens shouting at white faces, it may be because they don’t understand the deep-rooted issues and frustrations involved. Maybe they don’t understand that if this city had spent a significant amount of time solving its problems a long time ago, there wouldn’t be a need for some of the aggressiveness they are seeing and experiencing, and are uncomfortable with.”

Despite some legal uncertainties surrounding their bids for a third term (both Ragsdale and Lipscomb have served more than half an appointed term in addition to two elected terms, and the City Charter is ambiguous as to whether they are technically eligible to run), Ragsdale and Lipscomb are expected to win reelection easily. And while various black newcomers are expected to join the opposition fray this spring, their efforts are widely regarded as test flights for the real battle in 1991. when Lipscomb and Ragsdale will be gone. By the 1993 elec-ions, new census figures and the Dallas Citizens Charter Review Committee will lave redrawn council districts.

Proposed salaries for the mayor and coun-cil members are also expected to attract more black candidates, many of whom charge that the current low pay allows only middle- and upper-class citizens to serve. (It was Al Lipscomb who initially campaigned for salaries for council members, and who re-ently petitioned to get council members in-luded in the city’s health care package for employees. As a vendor at a fruit stand in the -aimer’s Market. Lipscomb has often in-licated that he might forgo his third term in favor of a salaried justice of the peace post.)

The likelihood of some or all of these changes practically assures a changing of the guard in the elected black leadership during the coming decade. Names of candidates running already this spring, or those who might vie for a seat in 1991, include Robert Parish; Lonnie Murphy; Dallas Alliance executive director Helen Giddings; DISD board members Yvonne Ewell and Kathlyn Gilliam; West Dallas housing patriarch the Rev. Marion Barnett; Park Board member Vivian Williamson-Johnson; current Dallas City Planning and Zoning Commission member Betty Culbreath; West End Marketplace chief operating officer Robert Boyd; and community activists Marvin Crenshaw and Roy Williams, both plaintiffs in the pending single-member-district lawsuit against the city. Other blacks who might opt to run in the future if salaries go up are attorney Eric Moyé; former assistant district attorney Royce West; current airport board member Billy Allen; restaurateur Marvin Robinson; former Assistant City Manager Levi Davis; Dallas Black Chamber president John Dodd; Hugh Robinson; and perhaps the Rev. Zan Holmes, pastor at St. Luke Community United Methodist Church and former state legislator.

While all of these candidates enjoy substantial name recognition within the black communities, only Crenshaw, Williams, and Culbreath have much chance to win the endorsements of Ragsdale and Lipscomb. Why? Because they are cut from the same cloth in terms of political style and spring from the same type of grass roots experience. Says Pettis Norman, who may make a ’91 or ’93 bid for the council himself if he decides he’s serious about someday being mayor. “The prospect of replacing Diane and Al with that same volatility is very real.”



TA. SNEED SITS IN HIS OFFICE. STAR-ing blankly at a copy of the community reinvestment agreement signed in May 1987 by the RepublicBank Corporation and the Inner City Development Corporation (ICDC), a nonprofit organization formed by Diane Ragsdale to foster much-needed development in South Dallas. A community reinvestment agreement ICDC wrangled from RepublicBank (now NCNB Texas) is the groups major achievement to date, and now it is in doubt because of the bank’s takeover. For Sneed. it is another example of Ragsdale’s shortsightedness. “No doubt the group’s intent was good.” muses Sneed, “but the agreement was not. RepublicBank wasn’t required to actually put up the money |$25 million]. At the time it was obvious the bank was faltering, so the money should have been put in an interest-bearing escrow account that was separate from Re-publicBank.

Sneed can think of many other questions that Ragsdale should have asked. “Why are they adding new floors to the Lew Sterrett jail and not to the square foolage of the Hillvale substance abuse rehabilitation clinic that sits in District 6? Let’s start throwing money at the reasons why Lew Sterrett is so crowded.”

Again. Sneed blames Ragstdale’s inability to negotiate, and her tendency to alienate, for the lack of progress in District 6. Ragsdale, says Sneed. is so concerned with the problems and bitterness of the past that she is unable to focus on the future and gel her point across in key negotiations. Opportunities have eluded her. he charges, because she’s demonstrated she can’t sit down and negotiate rationally with mainstream leaders. As an example, Sneed cites Ragsdale’s violent verbal exchange with police supporter Carrie Delano at a council meeting last June. Not only did the fiasco overshadow the key point of discussion, but Ragsdale failed to turn the resulting wave of bad publicity to the advantage of her constituency.

“Hell, I agree with her that white folks didn’t turn their headlights on for |slain police officer James] Joe.” snorts Sneed. “But the real issue and discussion at the time was if the police review board should have broadened powers. The real issue got lost in a lot of petty, personal animosities. She let her anger cause her to lose sight of the needs of those she serves.”

Sneed is convinced that he. and futureleaders like him, can take over where DianeRagsdale and Al Lipscomb leave off, ifredistricting creates new minority opportunities and voters approve better councilpay. “People rely on Diane to say the thingsto Dallas they’re afraid to say. She’s saidthose things many times. . But she’s notdone enough to make the important thingshappen. That’s why I say sometimes, achanging of the guard is good.”