With a television crew videotaping the event, the world was made aware of Philadelphia’s recent troubles when a police beating was reported in late July. The phenomenon of police brutality has been so widespread it is now a bona fide syndrome with the clinical name: "blue rage." Blue rage is what some think happened to carjacking suspect, Thomas Jones, who, after stealing a police cruiser, resisted arrest, and led police on a long chase that ended in gunfire. Forty-five shots were fired, five struck Jones. One pursuing police officer was shot in the thumb, and since no weapon was ever found on Jones, it’s clear that the officer was wounded by friendly fire.

By the time the chase ended, more than a dozen police officers swarmed Jones, who was reportedly kicked and punched as many as 50 times even though he was already on the ground, wounded and bleeding. There were so many officers beating Jones that he wasn’t even visible to the news crew filming the scene directly overhead from their helicopter. And while drug screen tests taken after the incident indicate that Jones may have had cocaine in his system, how much of the drug he had used was not — and cannot easily be — determined.

That same week in Philadelphia, an unarmed homeless man was shot and killed by Amtrak police. Robert Brown had battled schizophrenia for years,and panhandled regularly at the 30th Street Amtrak station. Brown had threatened some travelers a few moments before, prompting the train station police — not the same operation as the city police force — to intervene. The officers followed Brown and cornered him. Brown picked up a chair, which police suspected he was about to throw. Although properly trained and equipped with the batons and pepper spray regularly used to deal with offenders even more menacing than Brown, the police shot him once and killed him in plain sight of crowds of onlookers who witnessed screamed such phrases as, "You didn’t have to do that!"

Both Jones and Brown are poor and black, a circumstance that is rending Philadelphia down ethnic and economic lines.

Is Central Pennsylvania any different?

An Enola restaurant, Tavern on the Hill, is the subject of a federal lawsuit alleging unlawful discrimination by its management. A representative for a group of African-American women called to reserve the restaurant’s large dining hall for a get-together. When the representative arrived to finalize plans, she was told that due to "an oversight in reservations," the hall was already taken. The Tavern could not honor the black women’s reservation. Suspicious, a member of the group asked some white friends to reserve the room for the same day. The second group was not told about a previous reservation and was booked into the room.

There are many more examples of "coincidences" involving racial incidents. MODE Weekly has received multiple phone calls about suspicious treatment of patrons at area restaurants; and, as told in a recent Editor’s Note (Issue Date June 8, 2000) MODE editorial interns have had difficulties when dealing with local organizations. True, it’s hard to say whether these occurrences are racially motivated or simply circumstantial; perhaps at Tavern on the Hill an employee simply made an error, or perhaps the "double booking" solved itself through a cancellation before the white group approached the restaurant to book the space. Who knows what might have caused a cancellation. But research by the state’s human relations commission shows that the top four areas in the Commonwealth making complaints of discriminatory acts are Philadelphia, York, Allegheny, and Dauphin Counties — in that order.

A Great Divide?

In the Capital Region, racism is especially pronounced because of the Susquehanna River. Must the river serve as a "great divide"?

Rivers that divide cosmopolitan cities, like the Thames does to London and the Seine to Paris, do often create expected geographical divisions between the communities they separate: East Side, West Side; North Riviera, South Riviera. In other cities, like Belgrade and Baghdad, the riverbanks are definitive boundaries in war zones. The rivers split the cities like knives, creating angry, lacerated pieces of a whole. What type of place has the Susquehanna River made of Harrisburg? Do we live in tender unity? Or is this a backwoods region of folk who only claim through clenched teeth to accept all others?

MODE asked people living and working on both sides of the river what they believe.

"The blacks started moving in during the sixties," said self-proclaimed country girl, Carol Yost, a resident of Dillsburg since 1967. "I’d never move back to Harrisburg."

Forty-seven-year-old Harrisburg bartender, "King" Satchel, describes the people of Camp Hill as "very ignorant to us [African-Americans]." "You see women acting all afraid like they’ve never seen a nigger before! One even called me ‘boy’ the other week," said Satchel, "That’s what they’re like, man."

Who are "they"? "White people," he answered.

A pair of 16-year-old students from Trinity High School in Camp Hill, "Billy" and "Sandra," "know a guy who got beat up over there by some black guys just because he was white." Added Sandra, "I have black friends and they’re real nice and all. If those guys [in Harrisburg] knew that, I don’t think that they’d treat us so bad."

If they knew what? "That I have black friends, too," she said, "not all white people are racist."

Disagreeing with Sandra’s description of herself, Dillsburg’s Yost instead admits, "I’m still a little prejudiced."

"White people will always be racial," said 19-year-old Harrisburg business student Ty Williams. "So why shouldn’t I?"

Apparently, prejudice reaches across all ages and races — and regions.

"I’m not so sure that it [prejudice] is that easy to pin down," states Laura Treaster, Information Director of PHRC, a state government entity dedicated to investigating and litigating civil rights violations, acts of discrimination, and hate crimes. Some of the complaints handled by PHRC concern unfair practices in employment, housing, and public accommodations like restaurant service. "We have stats broken down by county and type," continued Treaster. "While Dauphin County has a lot of complaints, Cumberland County doesn’t. Allegheny County has a lot, but not Adams County. It seems that counties with more of a variety of ethnic groups have more complaints."

Logical enough: Where there is diversity, there will be a certain amount of friction.

Even within a family, generations collide as one refuses to accept the other. What holds them together is the revered unit known as family. And while one might argue that we’re all "one family,"most people don’t feel a kinship with all human beings.

Williams defines his family by both bloodline and through the shared experience of being an African-American. "I’d stand by the black man if there was a racial thing between a white and black man," said Williams. "We’ve been through enough unfair shit and I’d be part of the problem if I said nothing."

The black condition in America is difficult to summarize. Stripped of every human right for the better part of the last six centuries, the black man has had nothing to cling to but religion — and each other. "Sometimes," said Williams, "it feels like we’re all just helping each other to survive."

Sandra defines her family both by bloodline and how well individuals gel with her personality. "I choose to hang out here with my friends because we get along," explained Sandra, as she nursed a black coffee at the Camp Hill Diner across from Trinity High. "If I don’t get along with someone, why would I hang out with him?"

Has Sandra or Billy been to Harrisburg recently? "Not in a while," said Billy coolly. "No, I already said," a slightly frustrated Sandra repeated, "I don’t like the people over there."

If Sandra and others like her don’t venture across our "great divide," how can they know whether they’d "get along" with anyone there?

"All hate is taught …"

Here is the oily, dark center at the heart of all racism: hearsay and generalizations based on assumptions.

Sandra and Billy have never personally experienced any crime or violence on the East Shore, but still color the entire area as dangerous and give it a wide berth.

There is more feeding Sandra’s and Billy’s biases than just a third-party story of another student’s misfortune. The foundations of their philosophies, which neither feels are prejudiced — "We don’t go around calling people names or anything," said Sandra — were learned from their parents and other role models. Many children are still explicitly taught by parents, friends, and religious figures to see differences in skin color, beliefs, and sexuality. Then, too, when they gather with their peers, they exhibit group mentality. They scorn, ridicule, and detest those who are deemed "others."

"All hate is taught," says Paula Harris, president of the local chapter of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP). "We are born accepting all things. Love keeps that safe, but hate beats it out."

Often, one-sided perceptions and crime teach one to hate. "They didn’t take care of their community and the whole street just became really awful," said Yost of the Harrisburg neighborhood in which she once lived. "And after my grandparents were robbed and beaten up by some blacks, I was really prejudiced." Yost says she wasn’t brought up "any particular way," but says she learned to judge African-Americans "because they cause commotion."

Does she have an ideal relationship with her white friends? "Well, it’s just like life: no one gets along perfectly."

Can’t she apply that proverb to her feelings about blacks? "Well, I’m not as prejudiced as I used to be."

Good for her.

"Fear causes hate — plain and simple," stated Rodney Brooks of the Harrisburg Urban League. "What do people fear the most? Poverty. And where are the poorest people in the area? Harrisburg," said Brooks, matter-of-factly.

Some citizens don’t realize that they are prejudiced against the city in this way. Rosemary Baer, the daughter of celebrated local artist Nick Ruggieri, says she has seen the City of Harrisburg lose its blossom. "There were art studios and the most beautiful shops downtown," recalls Baer. "But it broke my father’s heart each time he drove through the uptown neighborhood that he used to live in. The whole area has become dilapidated." Baer still leaves her Camp Hill hinterland, occasionally, for Harrisburg’s "nice restaurants, music, and other cultural events. My husband and I are even looking at maybe getting a house there in Shipoke," she preened. But Baer believes that aesthetics and safety are now missing from uptown Harrisburg. "I haven’t ever had a personal experience of crime or violence, no. But should I tempt it?" she asked. Baer admitted that even though a neighbor’s house in Camp Hill was broken into, her sense of safety was not really shaken.

Why not? "I don’t know," she answered.

Doesn’t that type of thinking suggest that her prejudice is based more on economic affluence than racial difference? As Brooks points out, "Who lives in all of the poor sections? African-Americans." Because Baer isn’t seeing the implications of her own fear, she sounds — or ultimately is — prejudiced without intending to be.

Parents have the biggest influence on what children will hate. "My dad’s been down on white people for as long as I can remember," recalls Williams. "All my uncles and brothers had some kind of bullshit with white people and other nationalities, too." Williams then told of moments when he was "profiled," or suspected of something wrong or illegal according to physical traits, by policemen and security officers. He has been questioned while walking at night down a street in Lemoyne. He is still "rolled" or harassed by the police every few weeks. He suspects that it was the baggy pants and tank top that he wears which made an Oriental shop owner ask him, and only him, to leave when there were "too many people" in a small grocery store.

Williams is getting used to the standard, narrow-minded treatment he sometimes gets from some people. "What can I do, though? My dad was like: ‘You’ve got to stand tall inside and out,’" said Williams. "It’s like I’m not allowed to be black in most places outside of Harrisburg. They make it real uncomfortable [for me] anywhere else."

Williams’ experiences with the police may or may not have been caused by racism, but the racial tension that he feels is real. "Civil tension is just the beginning of a sequence leading to hate crime," warns Ann Van Dyke, head of the PHRC Office of Education. "From everyday interaction including racial jokes, slurs, and even giving certain looks, civil tension is born. That sets up an ideal place for organized hate groups like the KKK and the Knights of America to find purpose. Unlawful discrimination and hate crimes are just around the corner, at that point. Pennsylvania is in trouble," said Van Dyke.

She may be right.

What can be done?

First, according to Stop the Hate with Harmony, an award-winning instructional video from PHRC: do not be silent, simply act. If someone tells you an offensive joke or uses a racial epithet and you don’t like it, say so. "A simple ‘Not around me’ will do," says Van Dyke. Remove graffiti, replace broken windows, or build something in your neighborhood with members of your community. These are counter forces that bring people together while pushing back against hate. There are plenty of other things that can be done to fight against hatred.

Support the victims of hate crimes: letting a victim feel welcome is necessary to help remove racial tension.

Study up on the hate groups: know who and what you’re fighting. Do NOT attend a hate rally, but, rather, create an alternative. After ten years of monthly KKK rallies and marches, the residents of Boyertown, PA, started "Project Lemonade," named after the aphorism asking "What if life hands you lemons?" Lemonade was sold for every minute that the KKK rallied and marched down the streets of their town. The money went to buying books about black history for the town library. Before leaving town for good, the KKK even threatened litigation for using their name to raise money.

Lobby local leaders: persuade government leaders to take a stand against hate. Even though it’s assumed officials are humanitarian, they are simply servants to the people. Show them whom they serve.

Teach tolerance: have children get involved in programs that promote diversity. Philadelphia has a "Partners" program that brings schools with predominately black students together with schools with predominately white students for projects, to play games, and just interact.

The Susquehanna seems to have created two distinct worlds that are described with words of ignorance: the White Shore and the Black Shore. The width of the river, however, is just an excuse for intolerant residents to segregate from one another. Its existence may prevent factions from interacting, and thus stave off the kind of violence documented recently in Philadelphia, for example, but it doesn’t solve the problem of racism here in Central Pennsylvania, or the problems resulting from a sharply divided region with antagonistic communities and lack of commonality. How many of our economic and educational problems might be solved if the groups would work together instead of alone?

"Water doesn’t divide people," says Harris of the NAACP. "People divide people. And it is truly a shame because there is only one race — the human one."

Of those individuals who responded to the poll:

80% believe there are residents who won’t venture to the opposite "shore."

13% do not believe that there are residents who will not go to the opposite shore.

7% are indifferent on the subject.

8% admitted they will not go to the opposite shore.

10% have a family member who won’t go to the opposite shore.

55% have an acquaintance who won’t go to the opposite shore.

52% are female

48% are male

65% live on the West Shore

35% live on the East Shore

21% are in their 20s

24% are in their 30s

19% are in their 40s

21% are in their 50s

15% are 60+ years old

70% are female

30% are male

65% live on the West Shore

35% live on the East Shore

6% are in their 20s

18% are in their 30s

18% are in their 40s

18% are in their 50s

40% are 60+ years old

57% are female

43% are male

93% live on the West Shore

7% live on the East Shore

21% are in their 20s

37% are in their 30s

21% are in their 40s

21% are in their 50s

0% are 60+ years old

Interesting poll results:

Ten percent of those who said there are some residents who won’t go over to the opposite shore admitted that they, themselves, won’t go to the opposite shore.

All family members who live on the East Shore and won’t go to the West Shore are 57 years old and older.

Of females who won’t go over to the opposite shore, 63% live on the West Shore.

Of males who won’t, 55% live on the West Shore.

The ratio of female to male family members who won’t go to the East Shore is 8:3, respectively.

The ratio of female to male family members who won’t go to the West Shore is 2:1, respectively.

There was only one person who said they have an acquaintance who won’t go to the West Shore.

100% of those who have a family member who refuses to go to the opposite shore have acquaintances who won’t, either.

0% of those who said that there aren’t any residents that refuse to travel to the opposite shore have family members who won’t go to the opposite shore. BUT…