News (Media Awareness Project) - US TX: Tiny Town An Unlikely Target For Firestorm Of |
Title: | US TX: Tiny Town An Unlikely Target For Firestorm Of |
Published On: | 2001-03-18 |
Source: | Amarillo Globe-News (TX) |
Fetched On: | 2008-01-26 21:16:10 |
TINY TOWN AN UNLIKELY TARGET FOR FIRESTORM OF CONTROVERSY
The tiny, peaceful town of Tulia seems an unlikely candidate for a
battleground in the war over racial injustice and drug policy. But a
battleground is precisely what Tulia has become since 46 people - 39 of
them black - were charged in 1999 with selling drugs to an undercover agent.
With an avalanche of national media attention and controversy engulfing the
town for the past two years, residents are left wondering whether anybody
will ever know the truth about their town, which they say differs greatly
from the image portrayed by the media.
"I'm dismayed that they don't understand who we are and what we do," said
Bob Colson, an insurance agent who moved to Tulia 20 years ago seeking the
small-town life. "I guess that's their loss, but it hurts us, too."
The truth is Tulia is extremely typical of small towns in the Texas
Panhandle. The town of 5,000 people, midway between Amarillo and Lubbock on
Interstate 27, has strong agricultural roots. It has a deep current of
conservative values running through it, although it sits in Swisher County,
one of the more heavily Democratic counties in the area.
The residents of the town embrace the quiet, small-town life and resent
anything detracting from that. People in Tulia try to support each other,
every year contributing hundreds of dollars to the Love Fund, which gives
Christmas gifts to about 300 disadvantaged children. Volunteerism is looked
upon as the duty of a good citizen.
Residents seeking entertainment on a Saturday night often find themselves
driving 25 miles to Plainview or 50 miles to Amarillo, and if they want to
find alcohol, they head to the county line because Swisher is a dry county.
Tulia also is going through many of the same difficulties as other small
towns in the Panhandle. Agriculture no longer brings in the money it used
to because of low commodity prices and high production costs. Much of the
county is rapidly running out of water for irrigation, leaving farmers
struggling against the weather to raise dryland crops.
Tulia suffers from a decision in the mid-1980s to route the interstate
around the town, a move that helped traffic flow but cut deep into the
economy. Its historic town square shops are closing at an alarming rate.
High-paying jobs are hard to come by, and many of Tulia's young people are
moving away to larger cities to find work.
Added to all of this is the massive drug bust controversy, normally talked
about with a hint of disdain and resentment at the toll it has taken on the
town.
"There's no problem here," said Lana Barnett, president of the Tulia
Chamber of Commerce. "What we've got is a bunch of low-lifes who got caught
and are whining about it. There are some bleeding hearts in town who have
taken up their cause. Then you throw in a bunch of outside agitators, and
this is what you get."
That resentment flows through the town like a river, leaving its residents
chafing at the image of Tulia portrayed through news reports and
distrustful of outsiders, determined to ride out the storm and return to
the way things used to be.
"Everybody's just taking it day to day," said Mayor Boyd Vaughn. "They
can't keep this stirred up forever."
Vaughn's belief might be wishful thinking, however. Opponents of the drug
busts say they plan to continue fighting, even while admitting Tulia did
nothing unique to earn its place in the crossfire of the war on drugs.
"What happened in Tulia is nothing special," said Randy Credico with the
William Moses Kunstler Fund For Racial Justice in New York. "It happens in
other cities all the time. The only thing that makes Tulia different is
that it's easy to articulate what's wrong with the system through these
cases. All the issues involved with the drug war are encapsulated in this
one small town."
But many residents say Tulia has done nothing to earn the criticism it has
faced since the arrests. They say there was nothing wrong with the drug
sting and, in fact, are proud that their law enforcement officers responded
so forcefully to their concerns about drugs in their community.
They say Tulia is not a home to racism. They point out Tulia integrated its
schools well before most other districts in the state. They note Greg
Perkins, a black sergeant with the Tulia Police Department, was elected Man
of the Year in 2000.
"This is a small town, so you don't have white neighborhoods and black
neighborhoods and Hispanic neighborhoods," said Sue Riddick, who served on
one of the juries in the drug cases. "We all live together, and we get
along together."
Many members of the black community have a starkly different view, however,
saying Tulia is racist and always has been.
"There's deep racism in Tulia," said Sammy Barrow, whose two brothers and
two nephews were arrested in the drug sting. "It's a cynicism-type of
racism. They expect certain things from you because you're black, whether
it actually applies to you or not. The majority of them, it's not out in
the open, but you just know. The message that's there is very clear."
So where is the middle ground between such diametrically opposed views of
Tulia and the drug busts? It can be found in a current of reconciliation
that exists in the town but seems to be waiting for the controversy to calm
down before it comes out publicly. Several members of Tulia's black
community said they support law enforcement and the drug busts, but they
did not want to be interviewed or identified while the controversy is still
raging. Even Man of the Year Perkins refused an interview, citing concerns
he would offend the blacks, the whites, or both, and only add to the
controversy.
That sentiment was perhaps expressed best by Ventura Ramos, who served on
one of the juries and summed up the feelings of many in Tulia's sizeable
Hispanic community.
"A lot of us are caught up with doing what we have to do in our daily
lives," Ramos said. "We're going about our business without trying to
meddle in anybody else's business. I think a lot of us just don't want to
get involved and add to (the controversy). We'll wait until this all dies down."
The tiny, peaceful town of Tulia seems an unlikely candidate for a
battleground in the war over racial injustice and drug policy. But a
battleground is precisely what Tulia has become since 46 people - 39 of
them black - were charged in 1999 with selling drugs to an undercover agent.
With an avalanche of national media attention and controversy engulfing the
town for the past two years, residents are left wondering whether anybody
will ever know the truth about their town, which they say differs greatly
from the image portrayed by the media.
"I'm dismayed that they don't understand who we are and what we do," said
Bob Colson, an insurance agent who moved to Tulia 20 years ago seeking the
small-town life. "I guess that's their loss, but it hurts us, too."
The truth is Tulia is extremely typical of small towns in the Texas
Panhandle. The town of 5,000 people, midway between Amarillo and Lubbock on
Interstate 27, has strong agricultural roots. It has a deep current of
conservative values running through it, although it sits in Swisher County,
one of the more heavily Democratic counties in the area.
The residents of the town embrace the quiet, small-town life and resent
anything detracting from that. People in Tulia try to support each other,
every year contributing hundreds of dollars to the Love Fund, which gives
Christmas gifts to about 300 disadvantaged children. Volunteerism is looked
upon as the duty of a good citizen.
Residents seeking entertainment on a Saturday night often find themselves
driving 25 miles to Plainview or 50 miles to Amarillo, and if they want to
find alcohol, they head to the county line because Swisher is a dry county.
Tulia also is going through many of the same difficulties as other small
towns in the Panhandle. Agriculture no longer brings in the money it used
to because of low commodity prices and high production costs. Much of the
county is rapidly running out of water for irrigation, leaving farmers
struggling against the weather to raise dryland crops.
Tulia suffers from a decision in the mid-1980s to route the interstate
around the town, a move that helped traffic flow but cut deep into the
economy. Its historic town square shops are closing at an alarming rate.
High-paying jobs are hard to come by, and many of Tulia's young people are
moving away to larger cities to find work.
Added to all of this is the massive drug bust controversy, normally talked
about with a hint of disdain and resentment at the toll it has taken on the
town.
"There's no problem here," said Lana Barnett, president of the Tulia
Chamber of Commerce. "What we've got is a bunch of low-lifes who got caught
and are whining about it. There are some bleeding hearts in town who have
taken up their cause. Then you throw in a bunch of outside agitators, and
this is what you get."
That resentment flows through the town like a river, leaving its residents
chafing at the image of Tulia portrayed through news reports and
distrustful of outsiders, determined to ride out the storm and return to
the way things used to be.
"Everybody's just taking it day to day," said Mayor Boyd Vaughn. "They
can't keep this stirred up forever."
Vaughn's belief might be wishful thinking, however. Opponents of the drug
busts say they plan to continue fighting, even while admitting Tulia did
nothing unique to earn its place in the crossfire of the war on drugs.
"What happened in Tulia is nothing special," said Randy Credico with the
William Moses Kunstler Fund For Racial Justice in New York. "It happens in
other cities all the time. The only thing that makes Tulia different is
that it's easy to articulate what's wrong with the system through these
cases. All the issues involved with the drug war are encapsulated in this
one small town."
But many residents say Tulia has done nothing to earn the criticism it has
faced since the arrests. They say there was nothing wrong with the drug
sting and, in fact, are proud that their law enforcement officers responded
so forcefully to their concerns about drugs in their community.
They say Tulia is not a home to racism. They point out Tulia integrated its
schools well before most other districts in the state. They note Greg
Perkins, a black sergeant with the Tulia Police Department, was elected Man
of the Year in 2000.
"This is a small town, so you don't have white neighborhoods and black
neighborhoods and Hispanic neighborhoods," said Sue Riddick, who served on
one of the juries in the drug cases. "We all live together, and we get
along together."
Many members of the black community have a starkly different view, however,
saying Tulia is racist and always has been.
"There's deep racism in Tulia," said Sammy Barrow, whose two brothers and
two nephews were arrested in the drug sting. "It's a cynicism-type of
racism. They expect certain things from you because you're black, whether
it actually applies to you or not. The majority of them, it's not out in
the open, but you just know. The message that's there is very clear."
So where is the middle ground between such diametrically opposed views of
Tulia and the drug busts? It can be found in a current of reconciliation
that exists in the town but seems to be waiting for the controversy to calm
down before it comes out publicly. Several members of Tulia's black
community said they support law enforcement and the drug busts, but they
did not want to be interviewed or identified while the controversy is still
raging. Even Man of the Year Perkins refused an interview, citing concerns
he would offend the blacks, the whites, or both, and only add to the
controversy.
That sentiment was perhaps expressed best by Ventura Ramos, who served on
one of the juries and summed up the feelings of many in Tulia's sizeable
Hispanic community.
"A lot of us are caught up with doing what we have to do in our daily
lives," Ramos said. "We're going about our business without trying to
meddle in anybody else's business. I think a lot of us just don't want to
get involved and add to (the controversy). We'll wait until this all dies down."
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