The New Kid on the Block : Established Black Organizations Cautiously Eye Upstarts

When the San Diego Unified Port District commissioners refused earlier this year to name the city’s new $160-million bayfront convention center after the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., the decision drew reactions ranging from acute disappointment to bitter hostility in the black community.

In the eyes of some prominent black leaders, the Port District’s decision had undeniably racial overtones, having been made by a board of white males under pressure from a white majority--a point they stressed in their public denunciations. At the peak of the controversy, a few black leaders went so far as to call for a nationwide boycott designed to keep tourists and conventioneers away from San Diego.

As the racial tensions escalated, a handful of young black professionals were as disturbed by some black leaders’ vitriolic response as they were by the port’s decision.

That disgruntlement, which stems partly from generational differences of priorities and style, recently has spawned a new group hailed by its organizers as a vehicle for attaining the goals enunciated--but, from their perspective, seldom achieved--by longtime black community leaders.

“I’m tired of always hearing ‘We Shall Overcome’ and all this ‘60s’ stuff,” said Anthony Winston, the founder of the 3-month-old San Diego Foundation. “That’s just not my philosophy. We need more action in this community, not more rhetoric. This group is going to get things done, not complain about what’s not happening.”

With that attitude as a backdrop, the nonprofit San Diego Foundation intends to provide social and

financial services to Southeast San Diego, as well as become a public voice for the community on issues such as the convention center name controversy.

Led by a seven-member board headed by Winston, a 31-year-old insurance broker, the group has crafted an ambitious agenda highlighted by a goal of raising more than $1 million annually for programs such as scholarships, youth recreation leagues and a drug rehabilitation center. Its first major project will be to finance a sculpture to honor King--even though the San Diego Chamber of Commerce already is raising funds for a $250,000 King memorial in Balboa Park.

Although applauding those objectives, some black leaders regard the group’s financial target as unrealistic. The $1 million annual goal--some foundation members speak optimistically of raising as much as $3 million by the end of 1990--exceeds the combined yearly fund-raising total of local organizations such as the Urban League, the NAACP, Neighborhood House and the Catfish Club, said San Diego Urban League leader Herb Cawthorne.

‘I’m Glad They’re Dreaming’

“I’m glad they’re dreaming because that’s important,” said the Rev. George Walker Smith, head of the Catfish Club, one of the black community’s most respected political forums. “But I’m afraid that that’s all they’re doing--dreaming--when they talk about raising that kind of money in this community. If they do it, though, more power to ‘em.”

Winston said he had been mulling over the notion of forming the group for some time before the convention center controversy last February. Finding himself often at odds with those he describes as “some self-appointed (black) leaders,” Winston said he felt there was a need to “expand the voices that speak” for the black community.

But it was the convention center name that brought that sentiment to grow to fruition.

Some black leaders’ angry reaction to the port’s decision, Winston argues, “missed the important point” of the whole issue and “unnecessarily worsened the racial atmosphere.”

“The point isn’t whether Dr. King’s name is on the outside of the building--what counts is who gets the jobs inside the building,” Winston said. “In all the finger-pointing and name-calling that went on, that got lost.”

When the Rev. George Stevens, a firebrand 1960s activist who now is a top aide to Rep. Jim Bates (D-San Diego), called for black groups and others to boycott San Diego to protest the port’s action, Winston felt that the moment for the group he envisioned had come.

‘Other Voices and Attitudes’

“I certainly didn’t find that to be an appropriate approach and neither did most of the people I talked to,” Winston recalled. “In fact, I thought the boycott thing was a perfect example of how not to handle these situations. It was just another case of a so-called black leader doing something that wasn’t representative of the community. So, we felt it was time to show there are other voices and attitudes in this community.”

There is more to becoming a “voice” for any community, however, than merely declaring an intent to do so. Lacking a track record, the San Diego Foundation clearly finds itself in the position of having to prove itself--and, in the process, disprove some of its skeptics’ doubts.

“Before presuming to be a voice for the community, an individual or group normally has a record or accomplishments to stand on,” Urban League head Cawthorne said. “I don’t begrudge them anything, but it sounds like it’s going to be a while before this group is in that position.”

At one of its recent weekly meetings, several of the foundation’s board members acknowledged that they expect antagonism from some older, established black leaders, if for no reason other than the fact that the new group is trying to elbow its way onto already occupied turf.

“Any new group can be perceived as a threat to existing ones,” said Kerry Cooper, the foundation’s vice chairman. “In a sense, by our bursting on the scene, some others may feel like we’re pulling up the carpet from them. That’s not our intent, but some people probably will see it that way.”

Most black leaders, however, appear to regard the group not with enmity but with skepticism about the feasibility of its goals. Even Stevens, who was sharply criticized by several foundation members in their discussion of the reasons for the group’s formation, has been generous in his appraisal of the new organization.

“They’ve set a very high goal for themselves, but I hope they reach it, because it would be tremendous for the community,” Stevens said. “If they do it, I’ll be the first to congratulate them. As far as I’m concerned, they’re the leaders of tomorrow.”

With most foundation members in the 30-something age group, the organization consists primarily of business people a generation younger than most of the black ministers, public officials and other activists typically identified as Southeast San Diego leaders. As such, they acknowledge that they bring different ideas, approaches and skills to many issues.

Using the phrase “self-help” as a sort of mantra, they argue that the black community’s present leadership continues to too often look to government to solve its problems, such as youth unemployment and gang activity. By soliciting private-sector funds from individual and corporate donors for their programs, they hope to demonstrate, Winston said, that “most solutions can be found here in the community, not at City Hall.”

“Abraham Lincoln said you can’t help a man permanently by giving him something he could or should do for himself,” said board member Bruce Williams, precinct coordinator for the San Diego County Republican Party. “Self-help is the best help. The message we want to get across is that we don’t have to sit back and wait for others to do things for us.”

“What worked in the ‘60s may not work in the ‘80s and ‘90s,” Winston added. “Complaining about what government does or doesn’t do isn’t going to solve our problems.”

Leaders of other long- established black groups, however, note that they have been saying the same thing for years and point out existing private programs similar to those the foundation proposes.

The local office of the Urban League, for example, offers job-training programs that Cawthorne estimates save nearly $3 million a year in welfare and unemployment outlay. Scholarship funds, youth recreation and gang-diversion programs, funded through donations, have long been provided by organizations throughout the black community, though perhaps not to the extent that would be possible if the foundation’s fund-raising targets are met.

Feeling that those accomplishments perhaps are being given short shrift, some black leaders chafe under the foundation’s self-promotional billing.

Mild Criticism

“While I’m all for more things like this being done, to suggest that no one else is doing much in these areas reflects either ignorance about the community or self-interest,” Cawthorne said.

Vernon Sukumu, head of the Black Federation, added: “What these people shouldn’t forget is that one reason they’re able to do what they’re doing today is that George Stevens and others went to jail to open up the workplace and attack discrimination. They need to be a little more mindful and respectful of that history.”

Officials of other black organizations also are concerned that the foundation’s fund raising could dilute their groups’ resources by creating more demand for scarce charitable dollars.

“We shouldn’t organize ourselves to the point of dissipating financial and volunteer resources,” Cawthorne said. “If they had asked me, which they didn’t, I would have said it might have been more productive to put their energies into an established group whose name and record already opens doors. A new organization competes with, rather than complements, those efforts.”

The foundation’s leaders insist that they have no desire to shunt aside anyone and stress that their goal is to find a niche, both in raising funds and in programs.

“We’re going to try to tap untapped markets,” Winston said. “We don’t want what we do to take away from anything that anyone else is doing.”

Several corporations have expressed interest in helping to bankroll the group’s plans, but no firm agreements have been signed, Winston said. Another indication that the group’s $1-million-a-year target may be overly ambitious came when its first major fund-raiser--a $50-a-person event that board members hoped would attract several hundred guests--was scrapped last month and postponed until July because of insufficient commitments.

Winston and other foundation members, though, attribute the stumble with the May fund-raiser more to insufficient time to organize the event than to lack of support. Aware that the success--or failure--of the group’s first major public event will set a tone that could affect its ability to achieve its long-range goals, board members agree that the July luncheon will begin to answer the questions posed by the foundation’s creation.

“We’re sort of the new kids on the block, so it’s natural that there’s some skepticism or concerns,” Winston said. “But, if we carry through on these things--and I’m sure we will--that will change over time. After all, if we do these things for the community, how could anyone oppose that?”