Dissing Martin Loofer Coon

Tyrone N. Butts

APE Reporter
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Honors for King reversed elsewhere DEAD LINK

WORKING LINK

ZEPHYRHILLS - Across the country, hundreds of communities have renamed thoroughfares, created parks and set aside holidays to honor Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

Often, there's a fight. Merchants complain about the cost of changing their letterhead and running a business on a stigmatized street.

Residents talk of inconvenience and threatened home values. Someone always raises the issue of race.

But rarely do the arguments move leaders to bring back the old name.

The Zephyrhills City Council might do just that.


ast fall, a divided City Council voted twice to rename Sixth Avenue for the slain civil rights icon. Now newly elected council member Gina King will move to restore Sixth Avenue in a meeting set for 6 p.m.
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Although unusual, a reversal on the King na
me would not be unprecedented.

In 1979, the Alabama Legislature repealed a resolution that put King's name on a portion of interstate highway. In 1987, voters in Anchorage, Alaska, resoundingly repealed a proposal to name a new performing arts center for King.

The city of San Diego endured a six-year struggle in the late 1980s to honor King - it renamed a street, then repealed it, rejected naming an arts center, then settled on a waterfront park.


Similar controversies have swirled in communities around Tampa Bay. The present situation in Zephyrhills in many ways mirrors what happened in Tarpon Springs in 1990, when city leaders teetered on the issue after renaming a road for King. ...


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Long article and there's a lot more at the link!


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Similar controversies have swirled in communities around Tampa Bay. The present situation in Zephyrhills in many ways mirrors what happened in Tarpon Springs in 1990, when city leaders teetered on the issue after renaming a road for King.

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It was 1985 when the Southern California city of San Diego decided to explore honoring King. The following year, officials chose Market Street, which begins at the scenic waterfront and winds through some poorer neighborhoods, and called it Martin Luther King Way.

After a wave of protests from business owners, a divided City Council put the issue to voters as a referendum. The roadway became Market Street once again.

"The city was really pushing to name it (for King), and it did actually become that for a while," Dennis Sharp, archivist and oral historian for the San Diego Historical Society, told the Times. "They got so many protests from the businesses that they changed it back."

Two years later, an idea emerged to lend King's name to a convention center, but the Port Commission, which controls the city's waterfront district, rejected that proposal, Sharp said.

Today, Martin Luther King Jr. Promenade, a 12-acre park created in 1991, features in-ground plaques bearing quotes from King's speeches. The park, according to a promotional Web site, is now "a favorite for pedestrians, joggers and bicyclists."

Sharp said the ordeal made the city consider its own part in King's legacy.

"It caused a debate about what San Diego stood for . . . if we were making efforts to realize our past and take people like Martin Luther King and honor them," Sharp said.

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Glenn Davis sat on Tarpon Springs' City Commission in 1990, the year leaders renamed a street for King, then upheld the change after another debate.

One of the commissioners who initially favored the name change sought to reopen the issue after hearing from angry residents. Hours of heated debate followed, but the motion died for lack of support.

Davis, 49, who now works in law enforcement, said he heard a lot of veiled racism during those discussions about the price of letterhead and the inconvenience of a new address.

"It's just a nice way of saying that we don't want to be on a street named after an African-American. That's my opinion," Davis said.

He pointed to President Kennedy's 1963 assassination, when Davis was a child, for contrast.

"There was no uproar when they wanted to change the street names to Kennedy," he said. "Everybody was honored to do it."

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Zephyrhills followed much the same path last fall.

In October, the city received a letter from Irene Dobson, a longtime resident and activist, asking for the change in conjunction with the 40th anniversary of King's "I Have a Dream Speech."

About 100 people added their names to a petition in favor of the change, although Dobson said she wrote some of their names herself. Many of them, Dobson included, live outside city limits.

The council was receptive to her proposal. Only council member Clyde Bracknell opposed it, saying he didn't want to change an established street.

At the Oct. 27 council meeting, about 20 people spoke, many of them property owners on Sixth Avenue who opposed the change. With one exception, everyone who favored naming the street for King was black and everyone who objected was white. The name change passed, 4-1.

A storm gathered overnight.

Many residents, frustrated at the speed with which the council acted, mobilized. Two petitions emerged, one to try to stop the name change, another to recall the council members who voted for it. Hundreds of people signed.

Council member Cathi Compton heard the outcry and responded. At the Nov. 10 meeting, she tried to rescind the name change. The council had acted too quickly, she said. The city needed to find a solution that would make everyone happy. But only Bracknell supported her, and the motion failed 3-2.

From the back of the room, a man vowed to remember the council's action on election day.

The voters did.

Lance Smith, who voted for the renaming, lost his seat to Gina King. Liz Geiger, a six-term veteran, squeaked back into office by a single vote.

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Zephyrhills spent nearly $1,000 on new street signs. It reimbursed a handful of residents a grand total of $145.13 for expenses associated with changing their addresses. City Manager Steve Spina also convened a group to address the racial tensions unearthed by the controversy.

But the street name itself, and the council's procedure in changing it, remained on many minds.

Shortly before the April 13 city election, Gina King changed her position on the name change. The candidate originally had called the matter a dead issue.

But as election day neared, she told would-be voters she would work to restore the street's former name.

"The property owners of Sixth Avenue were slighted in the whole deal because they didn't have a say," she said recently.

During her campaign, she said she met person after person who was disgusted with the way the city enacted the change. Now she favors a compromise and has suggested changing the street's official name back to Sixth Avenue but leaving honorary signs up for Martin Luther King.

Spina, who supported the renaming, said he wasn't surprised to see the issue brought back. He's concerned about what happens after the next vote.

"You can rename a street. That's obvious," he said. "But that doesn't solve our issue now. I think race is the big elephant we're pretending is not in the room."

Council members Geiger and Celia Graham have consistently supported naming the street for King. Bracknell has always opposed it. Compton, the only member to waver, said last week that she's in a wait-and-see mode.

"I'm going to reserve my decision for the council meeting," Compton said. "It's a tough one."

_ Times researcher Caryn Baird contributed to this report, which also contains archive information from the New York Times, Chicago Tribune, Denver Post and Los Angeles Times.
 
BEHOLD, THE Martin Luther King STATUE in Boston


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“Both Martin and Coretta knew that the challenges that faced our nation then—and still today—cannot be fought with more anger, hate, or hostility,” wrote Thomas and Michael Murphy, executive director of MASS Design Group, in an email to AD. “Above all, what we felt like the Kings and their movement stood for was the belief that love is the ultimate tool against injustice.”
Many other memorials on Boston Common—and throughout the city, as well as our country—are dedicated to military victories and singular heroes. “We wanted this to be a memorial to nonviolence,” wrote Thomas and Murphy.
 
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If that gets removed, there are dozens more
 
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When Janice Rothschild Blumberg was born in 1924, George Gershwin had just performed his “Rhapsody in Blue” for the first time. In Atlanta, the old synagogue building belonging to The Temple was still located at South Prior and Richardson Streets, near the future site of the main stadium for the 1996 Olympic Games.

Ninety-seven years later, Blumberg is an accomplished historian and has been described as “a living Atlanta treasure.” The widow of famed mid-century Atlanta rabbi, Jacob M. Rothschild, she is about to publish the story of her long and memorable life.

Growing up in Atlanta, as a fifth generation Jewish Georgian, she was advised by her mother and grandmother to marry not for material possessions but for the wealth of accomplishment. She found that in Rabbi Rothschild, who had arrived in Atlanta in 1946 to become the first new rabbi at The Temple in 51 years. He had impressed her during his first High Holy Days sermon, which she says was mostly about not only becoming a better Jew but also a better American.

“In 1946, he said something about racial integration that many people didn’t remember. He was so appalled by the separate black and white water fountains and bathrooms and things like this that he said something about it. Nobody remembered it because the rest of the sermon had to do with bringing them more into Judaism. Of course, then, they didn’t connect the other part with the Judaism, which was about the message of the ancient prophets, but as time went on he got them into that. It was a long-term process.”
The following year, at the age of 23, she married the new rabbi and set off on a lifelong adventure that she says would not have been possible if she hadn’t been his wife.

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Rabbi Jacob Rothschild presents the Reverend Martin Luther King Jr. with an engraved glass bowl designed by his wife, Janice, on the occasion of his winning the Nobel Prize.

Standing by the side of Rabbi Rothschild, as she describes it in the book, was not only to be an eyewitness to history but also to help make it, particularly after The Temple was bombed by white supremacists in 1958.
She and Rabbi Rothschild became close friends with the Reverend Martin Luther King Jr. and his wife, Coretta. They hosted a banquet in Atlanta honoring the couple after King won the Nobel Peace Prize.
As the rebbetzin at The Temple in Midtown, she was at the epicenter of efforts to bring about social change in Atlanta and the American South. Today, she is one of the last surviving links to that tumultuous civil rights period of the 1950s and 1960s.
But this is only one part of the story that Blumberg relates in her book, “What’s Next?: Southern Dreams, Jewish Deeds and the Challenge of Looking Back While Moving Forward.”
Two years after Rabbi Rothschild’s untimely death, she married David Blumberg, the influential head of the International B’nai B’rith. During the marriage, she met many of the political and religious celebrities of the world, both high and low.
Sections of the books read a bit like the 1983 Woody Allen film “Zelig,” in which the title character seems to show up everywhere either by accident or design.
So it is with Janice Rothschild Blumberg. Here she is touring Atlanta in her convertible with the great violinist Isaac Stern; there she is bumping into the Dalai Lama in the Washington subway. At a coastal Italian villa, she’s introduced to Pope John Paul II. Then it’s off to Jerusalem to gaze across the city’s historic skyline with Yitzhak Rabin. They’re all here, Presidents Carter and Ford and a promising young governor from Arkansas, Bill Clinton. There’s even Janice with Monica Lewinsky at the Cosmos Club in Washington and with former secretaries of state Madeline Albright and Henry Kissinger.

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Today, Blumberg lives comfortably in her condo on Peachtree Road, surrounded by framed photographs and reminders of all the history she has witnessed.
On the crowded bookshelves is a critically acclaimed volume she has written about her great-grandfather, a prominent Reform movement rabbi of the late 19th century. She published it when she was 88.
Nearby is the Plaut chumash, the first five books of the Hebrew Bible, used in most Reform congregations today. The book of biblical commentary was written by Rabbi Gunther Plaut, with whom she had an intimate relationship after her second husband died.
There is probably little that Blumberg hasn’t seen or done in her 97 years that is not in this book. But the question for the still-active, still-opinionated author of a book titled “What’s Next” is, of course, obvious.
“Maybe I’ll do another book,” she suggests. “I have some ideas. Maybe I can get it together for my 100th birthday.”
Janice Blumberg Rothschild is featured in the 25th-anniversary exhibit at The William Breman Jewish Heritage Museum on Sept. 19th. Advance orders for “What’s Next” can be made at www.amazon.com or your local bookseller.
 
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