Black America's White knight

books

Bill Clinton and Black America By DeWayne Wickham One World/Ballantine, $24)

Former President Bill Clinton's close relationship with the Black communityhas become almost folklore in some circles.. Talk to the Black elite among the Washington D.C., chattering class and everyone has a story to tell about good We' Bill Clinton, "America's first Black president," as the writer Toni Morrison once put it.

In his new book, simply titled Bill Clinton and Black America, USA Today columnist DeWayne Wickham explores this phenomenon. Through a penetrating series of interviews with a host of African Americans - famous and not so famous - along with two illuminating interviews with Clinton, Wickham examines the peculiar affinity Blacks have for Clinton and his apparent love in return.

The author's essential thesis is established early on when he puts Clinton's relationship with Blacks in historical context.

"To fully understand Clinton's appeal to Blacks, you must first juxtapose him to the forty-one men - from George Washington to George Bush who preceded him in the presidency," Wickham notes.

"Eight of the first fifteen presidents of the United States were slaveowners. With the possible exceptions of John Adams and his son, John Quincy Adams, all the men who served in the White House before the election of Abraham Lincoln campaigned for the office as proslavery candidates. None of these presidents publicly opposed slavery during their time in the White House."

Wickham points out that even Lincoln - who is widely hailed for ending slavery - held hostile views toward Blacks and wrote a letter to 19th century journalist Horace Greely explaining he would allow slavery to continue if it would save the Union.

It becomes clear very early in Wickham's book that African Americans' fondness for Clinton was as much a function of their historically bad relationships with presidents as it was a genuine sense of comfort with him. Or more precisely, his comfort with them.

That theme is stressed throughout the book by African Americans with the most intimate knowledge of the former president.

Among those sharing stories about Clinton were a number of journalists who have covered him; NAACP President and CEO Kweisi Mfume, who developed a relationship with Clinton when he was in the U.S. House of Representatives and served as chairman of the Congressional Black Caucus; Alexis Herman, who was his Secretary of Labor; and Bob Nash, the Clinton administration's Director of Presidential Personnel.

Nash, who knew Clinton longer than the others, recalled in his interview hearing about Clinton back in 1976 when he was a law professor at the University of Arkansas. Friends had told Nash that Clinton was going to run for attorney general and asked if he would help with the campaign.

"I asked them, "Why should I? What has he done?' They told me he had taken a special interest in a lot of his black students. He tutored some of them at night in his apartment and helped get them through law school," Nash notes.

"And they told me he had made a commitment to appoint the first Black assistant attorney generals in Arkansas's history if he got elected."

Nash pointed out that as racist and backwards as Arkansas was, such an appointment would be extraordinary. He campaigned for Clinton and the future president did indeed appoint the state's first African American assistant attorney general.

Clinton carried that commitment to diversity with him to the White House. His insistence on diversity in his cabinet and throughout his administration led to the most African Americans ever working in positions of influence in a presidential administration.

Wickham astutely notes that not only did this approach mean that Black voices would be heard and contribute to major policy discussions, but it also set a standard by which future presidents would be measured.

George W. Bush's high-profile appointments of Colin Powell as secretary of state and Condoleezza Rice as national security advisor, along with putting Blacks in various other high-ranking positions in his administration are in no small measure a residual effect of Clinton's aggressive embrace of diversity.

Because the book was written in a way that allows Clinton partisans to explain his legacy, the book gives short shrift to the very real criticism he justly earned for some of his policies - particularly the astronomical incarceration rates of Black men during his watch.

Harvard Law professor Charles Ogletree, was one of the few interviewees to take note of this problem.

"If there is something that disappoints me about Clinton, it is that I think he could have done more while he was in office about the disparity in the criminal justice system. I think it is shocking and regrettable that more African Americans were incarcerated on Bill Clinton's watch than any other president in the history of the United States," Ogletree states.

The real tragedy of the matter is that it is these high incarceration rates (largely due to the sentencing disparity between crack and powder cocaine) that will have more of a lasting impact on the Black community than the former president's impressive record of appointing elite Blacks to his administration.

In fairness to Wickham, he did question Clinton about the issue during a visit to his Harlem office. Clinton expressed regret for not being able to move Congress to erase the disparity.

"On the disparity between crack and powder cocaine, I just don't agree with that. We urged the Congress to reduce it. They said, `Well there's more violence associated with crack than powder cocaine.' So we said, `Okay, don't eliminate it, just reduce it....'"

In spite of that issue and others like welfare reform, the Lani Guinier and Dr. Jocelyn Elders incidents, on balance the author makes a convincing case for Black America's fondness for President Clinton.

Wickham's book is as enlightening as it is insightful - even if it is a bit onesided. One thing is clear, however: Bill Clinton's whirlwind romance with Black America was real, not simply because he seduced us, but because he was the only one to ask us to the dance.

Trevor W. Coleman is an editorial writer and columnist with the Detroit Free Press.

Copyright Crisis Publishing Company, Incorporated Mar/Apr 2002
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