Last year residents of Cicero, a Chicago-area community notorious for its racism, called the police to report that a black man was impersonating a police officer, wearing a police uniform and driving a squad car. That was patrolman Wesley Scott, the town's first and only black policeman. Almost ! daily, he endures racial insults and humiliation, not only from the people he has sworn to protect but also from some of his fellow officers upon whom his life may depend.
Four miles away in Melrose Park, a working-class suburb of modest but tidy homes, live Donald and Stephanie Sled. This summer they packed up their few belongings and moved out of Chicago's westside ghetto, delighted to have found an affordable apartment in Melrose Park. In their excitement to escape the squalor and fear of the ghetto, the Sleds gave little thought to what it might mean to be the first black family in their neighborhood. "This was like heaven," recalls Donald, a 44-year-old handyman who sometimes stutters when excited. "It was so quiet and peaceful." But the Sleds have found anything but peace in Melrose Park. Instead, their new home has been under siege. Vandals have taunted them with racial slurs. They have shattered their windows, punctured their tires, torched their car and driven a blazing cross into their lawn.
The Scotts and Sleds are stark reminders that despite the enormous civil rights gains of the past three decades, even the rawest forms of racism persist. Reports to the Community Relations Service of the Justice Department indicate that racial incidents nationwide increased by 55% from 1986 to 1987, and more than 400% since 1980. In the first six months of 1988, racial incidents against blacks were recorded in at least 20 states, according to the Southern Poverty Law Center. There were 4,500 housing-discrimination complaints last year in the U.S., up from 3,000 in 1980. Racism is most likely to erupt when white homeowners feel threatened. Neighborhood segregation in northern cities is the most stubborn remnant of racial division in America. Often the bias is subtle. But on the front line are families such as the Sleds and the Scotts, whose experiences are shard-sharp examples of how overt and brutal racism in the U.S. can still be.
In March 1987, two days after Wesley Scott graduated from the police academy and joined the force in suburban Cicero, he discovered a photo of the Ku Klux Klan pasted to his locker. "Who's going to kill Wesley?" one of the robed Klansmen in the picture asked. Another replied, "I'm going to kill Wesley." Across the bottom was written "The Ku Klux Klan is going to kill you." Recalls Scott: "A few of the guys were shaking their heads, but a lot of the guys were laughing." Scott did not report the incident to his superiors, one of whom was among those laughing. Stephen Zalas, deputy superintendent of the Cicero police, said he was unaware of the incident. "Rookies do put up with some harassment," he said. "Some of it might be in bad taste."