A Fallout Between Friends

Blacks helped put Jimmy Carter in the White House, casting more than 90% of their votes for him and providing his winning margin in 13 states. But, to their dismay, he has paid far more attention in his first six months as President to foreign policy and balancing the budget than to solving the problems faced by poor people in the ghettos.

Last week the black leaders' pentup discontent broke out in a wave of complaints that forced the President to make an extraordinary defense of his urban policies before a black audience and later at a televised press conference. "I have no apologies," Carter gamely insisted. "We haven't done everything we would like to do, nor have we done everything that we are going to do." At the same time, he made plain that he considered much of the criticism to be outright demagoguery.

Guaranteed Jobs. Carter's problems came to the fore at the National Urban League's annual convention in Washington. The organization's executive director, Vernon Jordan--one of the President's admirers--rebuked him for not working more aggressively to improve housing for the poor and "guarantee jobs for all who can work." As Jordan explained to a reporter: "We expected Mr. Carter to be working as hard to meet the needs of minorities and the poor as he did to get out votes. But so far we have been disappointed. [He] has fallen short on policies, programs and people."

Jordan's critique set off a chorus of complaints by black leaders. Joseph Lowery, chairman of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, charged sardonically that Carter had somehow "lost his sense of urgency, as if he's more interested in a balanced budget than a balanced diet." Benjamin Hooks, who was inaugurated last week as director of the NAACP, urged Carter to balance the budget by means of a "full economy, generating more jobs, more sales and more money." Said Nancy Jefferson, executive director of Chicago's Midwest Community Council, a black self-help organization: "There were lots of hopes and illusions when Carter was elected. People expected jobs to start rolling in, but it hasn't happened, and people are getting bitter."

Obviously stung by the attacks, Carter appeared before the Urban League a day after Jordan's speech and vigorously defended his record, listing a series of Administration-backed proposals to provide blacks with better jobs, medical care and schooling. Afterward, the President reproached Jordan privately for starting the trouble in the first place. At his press conference, Carter said he warned Jordan that "erroneous or demagogic statements" would damage the cause of the nation's poor. Carter added that he did not look on Jordan as a demagogue, but to many commentators he seemed to be saying, hi effect, "Shut up and let me handle this."

Next day five members of the congressional Black Caucus rapped Carter's remarks as "profoundly unfortunate. thoroughly unfounded" and warned that his words had further endangered his support in the black community. As shown in a telephone poll taken for the New York Times and CBS, Carter's popularity among rank-and-file black voters late last month was high--he got a 69% approval rating, though it was down from 83% in April.

Despite the harsh words, the black leaders have no intention of breaking completely with Carter. Said Chester Higgins, an aide to Hooks: "It's a fight among friends. There are charges of infidelity--'You broke your promise, you haven't been faithful.' That could lead to a breakup, but nobody wants a breakup now."

Yet there were no signs last week that the criticism would induce Carter to pay significantly more attention to urban problems, though he may possibly make a few cosmetic changes in the package of welfare reforms that he will present to Congress this week. In general, Carter wants to hold down costs by consolidating several welfare programs and forcing thousands of recipients to accept jobs (TIME, May 9).

Still, many black leaders thought that they had achieved some success. Said Jordan, in a final speech to the Urban League convention: "We came here in a state of dissatisfaction, and we leave with our heavy hearts made only a bit lighter by the assurance that our message has been heard." Just to make sure, Jesse Jackson, head of Chicago's Operation PUSH (People United to Save Humanity), called for "massive action to dramatize our displeasure" and planned a prayer vigil next month in Washington by 1,000 black and white clergymen.

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