Boston’s Busing Crisis
The troops entered the city at dusk. A crisp sea breeze was blowing and the sky was a gentle pink. They entered from the north, in a long caravan of jeeps and trucks and ambulances that snaked its way past City Hall, past the site of the Boston Tea Party and over the wooden slats of the Fort Point Channel Bridge to South Boston.
The official welcoming party stood on the corner of D Street: about 50 locals, the usual types. The aggrieved mothers with children, the beer-drinking kids (wearing T-shirts with messages that ranged from “South Boston: The Irish Riviera” to “Niggers Suck”). There were also several old-timers, including a guy named Wacko, who usually brought his shillelagh to such events. And there was Ricky, carrying a huge, faded American flag with 48 stars and giving the National Guard the finger as they rumbled past. “I’m carrying this flag because I’m a loyal patriotic American,” he explained.
One of Ricky’s friends ambled by, offered him a swig of Schlitz and said, “We’re gonna get those fuckers this year.” School would be opening the next day and South Boston was psyching itself with little pep talks, as if for the big game. “Why don’t you tell the reporter why your flag has 48 stars?”
Ricky looked puzzled for a moment. “Why does it?” he asked.
“Because Massachusetts and Louisville, Kentucky, are seceding from the Union because of the niggers,” said the friend, proudly.
“Yeah, that’s it,” Ricky said. “Make sure you put that down about Louisville, Kentucky. They’re behind us in this,” he told me, then walked out to the middle of the street and stood next to a jeep that was parked there. “Fuck you, GI Joe,” he said to the driver.
A police officer approached and informed Ricky that he would have to move back to the sidewalk. “Hey, they’re gonna pinch him for carrying the flag! They’re gonna pinch him for being patriotic!” the friend yelled. The crowd booed.
The police officer approached again. “Unless you move out of the intersection, I am going to have to place you under arrest.”
Ricky moved toward the sidewalk. The crowd sang “God Bless America.” Ricky stopped halfway, said, “Shit, I’ll take the bust,” and walked back to the jeep where he was promptly arrested and led to a paddy wagon. On the way, he handed the flag to his friend.
“Gimme that flag,” said a chunky little woman. She grabbed several of her children and had them stand with her. They looked like the Iwo Jima monument out there in the middle of the street. “Go get my husband,” she instructed one of the others. “Tell him I’m gonna be arrested and he should bring my cigarettes.”
Noticing a reporter nearby, she issued an impromptu statement: “First they give the niggers our schools and then they start arresting people carrying the flag. But as long as one of us is alive, liberty will not die in South Boston,” and then she waited for the inevitable.
But the cops had spotted a bunch of kids running toward the National Guard staging area halfway down the block and took out after them. The crowd followed and soon the woman was all alone on Summer Street. It was getting dark — cars whizzed by with their lights on. Eventually, she moved over to the traffic island in the middle of the street where it was safer. She stood under a streetlight, shoulders thrown back, carrying the flag proudly, an inexplicable patriot to the motorists passing by.
The TV news correspondent stood near the Bunker Hill Monument. Over his left shoulder you could see the rows of police and the yellow school buses pulling up to dingy Charlestown High. He was saying something about the crucial battle fought there in 1775. “And now, 200 years later …”
After finishing his piece, he walked two blocks down Monument Street to the Bunker Hill housing project, which was where the day’s riot would occur — if, indeed, the crazy project kids saw fit to battle the cops again. He walked into the grocery store on the corner, selected a donut and used the pay phone to call New York. Tommy stood watching him, glaring at him, hands deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched.
Boston’s Busing Crisis, Page 1 of 5