by Lawrence Bush on April 10, 2012
The Civil Rights Act of 1968, commonly called the Fair Housing Act, which outlawed discrimination in the sale, rental, financing and advertising of housing based on race, color, religion, sex (1974), national origin, disability (1988) or family configuration (1988), was signed by President Lyndon Johnson on this date in 1968, one week after the assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr. Jewish organizations, notably the American Jewish Congress and the Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism, took an early leadership role in the campaign for this law, and in every state “there is evidence of some major contribution from Jewish groups,” according to analyst Duane Lockard, including “money to finance campaigns, staff to coordinate and direct activities, lobbying and intralegislative assistance, substantial legal advice and assistance in the drafting and in the defense of civil rights laws.” Anti-Semitic discrimination in housing had peaked and begun to fade in the 1940s and early 1950s — and Jewish housing developers such as William Levitt (Levittown) had actively practiced racist discrimination in building the American suburbs — yet Jewish support for the legislation, within Congress and through the civil rights movement, was solid and critical. Passage of the bill was also strongly influenced by the March 1, 1968 publication of the Kerner Commission report on “race riots” during the 1960s, which pointed to housing segregation as moving America “toward two societies, one black, one white — separate and unequal.” The legislation gave no strong tools of enforcement, however, and has sadly failed to produce racially integrated neighborhoods throughout the country.
“Integration has certainly not hurt us . . . (but) any homebuilder who chooses to operate on an open occupancy basis, where it is not customary or required by law, runs the grave risk of losing business to his competitor who chooses to discriminate.” —William Levitt
by Lawrence Bush on July 11, 2011
Milton Berle (Berlinger), America’s first television star, was born in Harlem on this date in 1908. He won a talent contest at age 5 and caught the show biz bug with appearances as a child actor in silent films, including The Perils of Pauline. Berle was an established radio comedian and vaudevillian when he became the host (“Uncle Miltie”) of the television show, Texaco Star Theater (1948-55), which aired on Tuesday evenings. The show won 80 percent of the television audience and dampened movie ticket sales on Tuesday nights. In Detroit, according to Berle’s autobiography, “an investigation took place when the water levels took a drastic drop in the reservoirs on Tuesday nights between 9 and 9:05. It turned out that everyone waited until the end of the Texaco Star Theater before going to the bathroom.” “Mr. Television,” as he became known, soon clashed with Texaco over a scheduled appearance of African-American performers, the Four Step Brothers, on the show. “‘We just don’t like them,’ I was told, but who the hell was ‘we’? Because I was riding high in 1950, I sent out the word: ‘If they don’t go on, I don’t go on.’ At ten minutes of eight — ten minutes before show time — I got permission for the Step Brothers to appear. If I broke the color-line policy or not, I don’t know, but later on I had no trouble booking Bill Robinson or Lena Horne.” Berle kept his material clean but was outrageous and transgressive (he regularly appeared in drag) and hilariously quick-witted. In the 1960s, he was entered into the Guinness Book of World Records for the greatest number of charity performances made by a show-biz performer. He died in 2002.
“Laughter is an instant vacation.” —Milton Berle
by Lawrence Bush on May 2, 2011
On this date in 1948, the U.S. Supreme Court rejected the legality of “restrictive covenants” in real estate contracts, which had been used for decades to enforce racial and religious segregation in housing. The case, Shelley v. Kraemer, was argued before the Court by two Black attorneys, Thurgood Marshall and Loren Miller; the brief filed by the U.S. government (against restrictive covenants) was written by four prominent Jewish attorneys, Philip Elman, Oscar Davis, Hilbert Zarky and Stanley Silverberg, but their names were omitted so as not to give the impression, said Arnold Raum of the Solicitor General’s office, that “a bunch of Jewish lawyers in the Department of Justice put this out.” The Supreme Court decision, which invoked the 14th Amendment, enabled Jews to move into neighborhoods from which they had been excluded for decades. Racial desegregation in housing, however, would prove far harder to achieve.
“No State shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States; nor shall any State deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws.” —14th Amendment
by Lawrence Bush on April 14, 2011
Jackie Robinson debuted for the Brooklyn Dodgers on this date in 1947, the first black player in Major League Baseball. Lester Rodney, sportswriter for the communist Daily Worker, who had been campaigning (along with writers for several African-American papers) to break baseball’s color line for more than a decade, later noted that “no other papers would talk about the amazing fact that halfway through the 20th century, in the land of the free, qualified and over-qualified baseball players couldn’t participate in our national pastime.” Even Robinson’s first appearance on the field was downplayed throughout the mainstream press. Similarly, when Joe DiMaggio named Satchel Paige as the best pitcher he had ever faced (in postseason exhibition games with Negro League teams), only Rodney reported the news — as he did about Dodgers manager Leo Durocher’s admission that he would sign black players “in a minute, if I got permission from the big shots.” Rodney’s activism in support of integrating baseball included a widespread petition drive and picket lines at ballparks. He died in 2009 at age 98.
Robinson‘s “legacy was not, ‘Hooray, we did it,’ but ‘Buddy, there’s still unfinished work out there.’ He was a continuing militant, and that‘s why the Dodgers never considered this brilliant baseball man, who would have made a wonderful manager or coach. It’s because he was outspoken and unafraid.” —Lester Rodney