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Despite these fault lines, some people, such as Guilford County Commission Chairman Chuck Forrester, think black complaints about the divisions of race are groundless. "They're taking back more from society than they've given," he says. "We could be doing better, but white people nationally should know they are doing a hell of a lot. And we shouldn't be afraid to ask the black community, 'What more do you want?' "
The starkest separations plague the most intimate areas: home, church and recreation. Although more black families are moving into northwest Greensboro's nicer houses, the area remains overwhelmingly white. Beyond the downtown underpass, which traditionally marked the other side of the tracks, southeast Greensboro remains almost all black. Several years ago, Ron and Betty Crutcher, who are black and lived in a mostly white neighborhood, put their split-level house on the market to seek a less traffic-filled neighborhood for their young daughter. The real-estate agent suggested the Crutchers hide their family pictures, implying that white buyers would be less likely to purchase a house that had been occupied by blacks. They decided not to remove the pictures and after two years sold the house themselves to a black family. "You have your right to do what you want and live where you want to live," says Betty Crutcher, who is excited about an upcoming move to a more integrated neighborhood in Cleveland. Meanwhile, their present house, pictures and all, is on the market. "If we still continue to dwell on where we live and who we live next to," she says, "that's where we're going to remain."
The divisions carry into church pews. "The most segregated time is 11 a.m. Sunday morning," says human-relations commission executive director John Shaw. Most churches, guided by tradition and split by culture, are black or white. But Cathedral of His Glory, a young church whose membership is 30% black and 70% white, is an exception. Maintaining the mixture requires leadership from the top and constant effort to involve blacks. "We have to explain we are prejudiced," says Pastor C. Paul Willis. "We are not color- blind. But it's not a prejudice of hate."
About 35 years ago, Dr. George Simkins challenged that prejudice when he ventured onto Gillespie Golf Course for a historic round of golf, a match that eventually opened the course to blacks. Today the public course is a mainstay for black golfers, since no blacks belong to the city's private country clubs. But no one battles that exclusion. "It's like jumping to the moon," Simkins explains. "You know you can't do it, so you never try."
Even when it's not a question of race, race is always a question. A school- merger debate is raging, with race the stumbling block. Guilford County residents, whose school system is 81% white, are resisting entreaties to merge with Greensboro (51% black) and High Point (50% black) schools. Greensboro delayed significant desegregation and busing for years, and now many parents -- black and white -- wonder whether the mixing has worked. "I'm not saying integration was wrong," says Greensboro councilwoman Alma Adams, who is black, "but it did cause a lot of problems we didn't think about."