Collected Essays

by Joan Didion

  Sharpton, it was frequently said by whites and also by some blacks, “represented nobody”, was “self-appointed” and “self-promoting”. He was an “ex­ploiter” of blacks, someone who “did them more harm than good”. It was pointed out that he had been in­dicted by the state of New York in June of 1989 on charges of grand larceny. (He was ultimately acquit­ted.) It was pointed out that New York Newsday, work­ing on information that appeared to have been supplied by federal law-enforcement agencies, had in January 1988 named him as a federal informant, and that he himself admitted to having let the government tap his phone in a drug-enforcement effort. It was routinely said, most tellingly of all in a narrative based on the magical ability of “leaders” to improve the com­monweal, that he was “not the right leader”, “not at all the leader the black community needs”. His clothes and his demeanor were ridiculed (my husband was asked by Esquire to do a piece predicated on interview­ing Sharpton while he was having his hair processed), his motives derided, and his tactics, which were those of an extremely sophisticated player who counted being widely despised among his stronger cards, not very well understood.

  Whites tended to believe, and to say, that Sharpton was “using” the racial issue—which, in the sense that all political action is based on “using” one issue or another, he clearly was. Whites also tended to see him as destructive and irresponsible, indifferent to the truth or to the sensibilities of whites—which, most notoriously in the nurturing of the Tawana Brawley case, a primal fantasy in which white men were ac­cused of a crime Sharpton may well have known to be a fabrication, he also clearly was. What seemed not at all understood was that for Sharpton, who had no interest in making the problem appear more tractable (“The question is, do you want to ‘ease’ it or do you want to ‘heal’ it,” he had said when asked if his marches had not worked against “easing tension” in Bensonhurst), the fact that blacks and whites could sometimes be shown to have divergent interests by no means suggested the need for an ameliorative solution. Such divergent interests were instead a lucky break, a ready-made organizing tool, a dramatic illustration of who had the power and who did not, who was making it and who was falling below the line; a metaphor for the sense of victimization felt not only by blacks but by all those Sharpton called “the left-out opposition”. We got the power, the chants go on “Sharpton and Fulani in Babylon: Volume I, The Battle of New York City”, a tape of the speeches of Sharpton and of Leo­nora Fulani, a leader of the New Alliance Party. We are the chosen people. Out of the pain. We that can’t even talk together. Have learned to walk together.

  “I’m no longer sure what I thought about Al Sharpton a year or two ago still applies,” Jerry Nachman, the editor of the New York Post, who had frequently criticized Sharpton, told Howard Kurtz of the Wash­ington Post in September of 1990. “I spent a lot of time on the street. There’s a lot of anger, a lot of frustra­tion. Rightly or wrongly, he may be articulating a great deal more of what typical attitudes are than some of us thought.” Wilbert Tatum, the editor and pub­lisher of the Amsterdam News, tried to explain to Kurtz how, in his view, Sharpton had been cast as “a cari­cature of black leadership”:

  He was fat. He wore jogging suits. He wore a medallion and gold chains. And the unfor­givable of unforgivables, he had processed hair. The white media, perhaps not con­sciously, said, “We’re going to promote this guy because we can point up the ridiculous­ness and paucity of black leadership.” Al understood precisely what they were doing, precisely. Al is probably the most brilliant tactician this country has ever produced . . .

  Whites often mentioned, as a clinching argument, that Sharpton paid his demonstrators to appear; the figure usually mentioned was five dollars (by Novem­ber 1990, when Sharpton was fielding demonstrators to protest the killing of a black woman alleged to have grabbed a police nightstick in the aftermath of a do­mestic dispute, a police source quoted in the Post had jumped the payment to twenty dollars), but the figure floated by a prosecutor on the jogger case was four dollars. This seemed on many levels a misunderstand­ing, or an estrangement, or as blacks would say a disrespect, too deep to address, but on its simplest level it served to suggest what value was placed by whites on what they thought of as black time.

  In the fall of 1990, the fourth and fifth of the six defendants in the Central Park attack, Kevin Richard­son and Kharey Wise, went on trial. Since this partic­ular narrative had achieved full resolution, or catharsis, with the conviction of the first three defen­dants, the city’s interest in the case had by then largely waned. Those “charlatans” who had sought to “exploit” the case had been whisked, until they could next prove useful, into the wings. Even the verdicts in this second trial, coinciding as they did with yet an­other arrest of John (“The Dapper Don”) Gotti, a re­liable favorite on the New York stage, did not lead the local news. It was in fact the economy itself that had come center stage in the city’s new, and yet familiar, narrative work: a work in which the vital yet belea­guered city would or would not weather yet another “crisis” (the answer was a resounding yes); a work, or a dreamwork, that emphasized not only the cyclical nature of such “crises” but the regenerative power of the city’s “contrasts”. “With its migratory population, its diversity of cultures and institutions, and its vast resources of infrastructure, capital, and intellect, New York has been the quintessential modern city for more than a century, constantly reinventing itself,” Michael Stone concluded in his New York magazine cover story, “Hard Times”. “Though the process may be long and painful, there’s no reason to believe it won’t happen again.”

  These were points commonly made in support of a narrative that tended, with its dramatic line of “crisis” and resolution, or recovery, only to further obscure the economic and historical groundwork for the situa­tion in which the city found itself: that long unindict­able conspiracy of criminal and semicriminal civic and commercial arrangements, deals, negotiations, gimmes and getmes, graft and grift, pipe, topsoil, con­crete, garbage; the conspiracy of those in the know, those with a connection, those with a rabbi at the Department of Sanitation or the Buildings Depart­ment or the School Construction Authority or Foley Square, the conspiracy of those who believed every­body got upside down because of who it was, it hap­pened to anybody else, a summons gets issued and that’s the end of it. On November 12, 1990, in its page-one analysis of the city’s troubles, the New York Times went so far as to locate, in “public spending”, not the drain on the city’s vitality and resources it had historically been but “an important positive factor”:

  Not in decades has so much money gone for public works in the area—airports, high­ways, bridges, sewers, subways and other projects. Roughly $12 billion will be spent in the metropolitan region in the current fis­cal year. Such government outlays are a healthy counterforce to a 43 percent decline since 1987 in the value of new private con­struction, a decline related to the sharp drop in real estate prices. . . . While nearly every industry in the private sector has been re­ducing payrolls since spring, government hiring has risen, maintaining an annual growth rate of 20,000 people since 1987 . . .

  That there might well be, in a city in which the proliferation of and increase in taxes were already driving private-sector payrolls out of town, hardly anyone left to tax for such public works and public-sector jobs was a point not too many people wished seriously to address: among the citizens of a New York come to grief on the sentimental stories told in defense of its own lazy criminality, the city’s inevitability remained the given, the heart, the first and last word on which all the stories rested. We love New York, the narrative promises, because it matches our energy level.

  —1990

  Acknowledgments

  * * *

  “In the Realm of the Fisher King”, “Insider Baseball”, Shooters Inc.”, “Girl of the Golden West”, and “Sentimental Journeys” appeared originally in The New York Review of Books. “Los Angeles Days�
�, “Down at City Hall”, “L.A. Noir”, “Fire Season”, “Times Mirror Square”, and part of “Pacific Distances” appeared originally as “Letters from Los Angeles” in The New Yorker. Most of “Pacific Distances” and the introductory piece, “After Henry”, appeared originally in New West, which later became California and eventually folded. I would like to thank my editors at all three magazines, Jon Carroll at New West, Robert Gottlieb at The New Yorker, and most especially, since he has put up with me over nineteen years and through many long and eccentric projects, Robert Silvers at The New York Review.

  About the Author

  Joan Didion is the author of five novels, ten works of nonfiction, and a play. Her books include Slouching Towards Bethlehem, Play It as It Lays, The White Album, The Year of Magical Thinking, and, most recently, South and West: From a Notebook. Born in Sacramento, California, she lives in New York City.

  Also by Joan Didion

  Blue Nights

  We Tell Ourselves Stories In Order To Live

  The Year of Magical Thinking

  Where I Was From

  Fixed Ideas: America Since 9.11

  Political Fictions

  The Last Thing He Wanted

  After Henry

  Miami

  Democracy

  Salvador

  The White Album

  A Book of Common Prayer

  Play It As It Lays

  Run River

  All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

  Slouching Towards Bethlehem Copyright © 1961, 1964, 1965, 1966, 1967, 1968 by Joan Didion

  The White Album Copyright © 1979 by Joan Didion

  After Henry Copyright © 1992 by Joan Didion

  First published in the US by Farrar, Straus and Giroux in 1968.

  Cover design by Mauricio Díaz

  ISBN: 978-1-5040-5203-0

  This edition published in 2018 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.

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