Book Review: Where Peachtree Meets Sweet Auburn by Gary M Pomerantz

In Atlanta's Piedmont Park there's a historical plaque about the 1895 Cotton States Exposition. I've passed by that plaque numerous times, read the beginning of it several times, and finished it never. It turns out the Cotton States Exposition was indeed a major historical event, mostly because Booker T Washington was given a spot to speak to the almost totally white attendees. Washington, in this exposition that announced Atlanta as the capital of the New South, spoke of how black people and white populations can be separated, like fingers, but still connected to the same hand. Most of the white audience forgot about the "hand" part, but loved the "fingers" part, and the idea of "separate but equal" governed the South for almost the next century (although many forgot about the "equal" part too).

Gary M Pomerantz's Where Peachtree Meets Sweet Auburn covers the history of Atlanta through the eyes of two families, the Allen family (rich, white, connected to the northern part of Peachtree Road) and the Dobbs family (black, educated, middle-class, connected to Auburn Avenue). In a Southern city like Atlanta, when you see streets named after people, you may cringe to think whether they're named after a good person or a bad person. As Pomerantz's book reveals, both Ivan Allen Jr. Boulevard and John Wesley Dobbs Avenue are named after greats.

One warning before I go on, since this book probes racial issues: Please note that this story goes deep into racism in the 19th and 20th centuries, and was also written in the mid-90s (it ends with Atlanta planning the 96 Olympics but before they took place - probably to be in bookstores simultaneously). If you're easily offended by either stories that explore racism too deeply, or by someone more than a quarter century ago who was not as progressive as today discussing racism, this is not the book for you. If you're able to put that aside, then this is a very worthwhile read.

The Allen side of the story begins in Tennessee, where the first records of the family come from. When Atlanta rose to prominence in the late 1800s the family moved down there. Sensing what would be needed because of all of the construction and development, Ivan Allen started the town's office supply store. That store became an empire in a city constantly abuzz with new business, and the family grew richer in both wealth and prominence.

Like many prominent Atlantans - like Bob Woodruff, the person behind the rise of Coca Cola - it was natural to get involved in civic affairs. Ivan Allen became a state senator and had runs on the Chamber of Commerce, but the political apex of the family was Ivan Allen Jr., the mayor of the town for most of the 60s. At the time, Atlanta was competing with Birmingham for being thought of as the capital of the South (I can't believe that was actually a competition!), but civil rights movements in both cities were on the rise and threatening the pristine images both cities liked to put out about themselves. Birmingham reacted with Bull Connor and his attack dogs, but Mayor Allen chose a different path. When Ivan Allen first ran for mayor he was a segregationist, but through a mix of political opportunism as well as a genuine change of heart, he won the mayorship with black support for integration. While mayor, Allen did everything he could to keep everyone working together and away from riots and violence. He may not have invented the phrase "The city too busy to hate" (that was Mayor Hartsfield before him), but he definitely put it into effect.

The Allen family saga was very interesting, but the Dobbs story is simply fascinating. It begins close to where I am right now, on the plantation of a state senator in the Roswell/Woodstock area. That state senator had what was then considered a minor indiscretion and would now be considered rape of one of his slaves, who gave birth to a very light-skinned girl. That girl lived to 101 years old and was the mother of John Wesley Dobbs. Dobbs moved to Atlanta and was one of the few black men to get a job as a postman on a train. That salary allowed him to start a family near Auburn Avenue, the main street of black Atlanta, and become one of the leaders of black politics. Dobbs encouraged education and civic duty in his children, with just about all of them attending Morehouse or Spelman, and one of them, Geeky, becoming an opera star (who sang on the Ed Sullivan Show, but on her return to the city of the birth rejected a night at the civic center because it would have to be segregated).

One of Dobbs' grandchildren was Maynard Jackson Jr. Maynard, a lawyer by training, became the first black mayor of any major southern city, running Atlanta for eight years in the 70s, as well as a third term in the late 80s/early 90s.. While Ivan Allen Jr. had papered over racial differences, Maynard Jackson Jr. confronted them directly, which pleased the city's black population but scared the white population and several businesses. While previous administrations had talked about equality, Jackson enforced quotas to ensure minority representation, and forced companies working with the city (like on the airport) to use minority-owned subcontractors. Jackson's changes were stark and sudden, and many whites and businesses feared they would turn the city into the next Newark; however, they're also responsible for the city winning the Olympics decades later (and still being great to this day).

One of the most interesting parts about following the Dobbs family is seeing the transitions in the civil rights movement throughout each generation. When John Wesley Dobbs was at his most prominent, the city hiring six black policemen (to patrol just the black neighborhoods) was just about everything the black population could ask for - other than that, that generation seemed pretty content trying to make "separate but equal" work. By the 60s, though, the new generation demanded integration and was compelled to fight for it. On one occasion, the owner of Rich's, the city's biggest department store in the 60s, offered to end a sit-in at his store by promising to allow for an integrated lunch counter in six month's time. The student leader of the sit-in was skeptical of the owner and thought the six months was just buying enough time to renege on the deal; however, Martin Luther King Sr (yes, MLK's dad) rushed in and said that his generation spent their whole lives waiting for a deal like this, and the student leader would be crazy to reject it. The leader accepted, and the sit-in ended - as did the lunch counter segregation, six months later.

Maynard Jackson Jr. was included within that 60s generation of the civil rights movement, and he brought that with him when he became the first black mayor, demanding black involvement in government. But what he didn't fully think through was that black involvement included black culpability, especially when things don't change besides the color of the person doing it. This came to a head during the protests in the wake of the Rodney King trial; Jackson found himself booed off the stage at Morehouse College because the new generation didn't see him as the first black mayor - they saw him as the authority figure who ran the police.

One of the aspects of this book that makes it such a great read, besides the momentous history it covers, is that Pomerantz demonstrates great love of the city and its history through his writing. Sometimes that love can overpower the read - it's a very long book, and it does drag in a couple places when going into great detail on things - but Pomerantz clearly loves the city of Atlanta.

And so do I! I picked up this book a bit before this Independence Day's Peachtree Road Race thinking it would be great to learn a bit more about the city's history while running through it. As I write this now, I've got moving boxes to the right of me, and will have to pack up the desk I'm writing this on shortly. Because we're moving back to Atlanta.

No, it's not cause and effect! But reading a book this enthralling about the city you're about to move back into does make the move more thrilling. Even if you aren't in Atlanta or even haven't visited Atlanta, though, this is definitely a worthwhile read. Eight out of ten hot dogs.