“Black Is Beautiful”
Part 1: a summer class in West Oakland
I first met Huey Newton a lifetime ago, in the summer of 1967. He came to the apartment where I and two other college classmates were staying in West Oakland, a predominantly Black neighborhood.
The three of us were part of a small class of eight students enrolled in a Sociology class with a built in field experience. (The entire course had been proposed and organized by a young woman, fellow classmate and friend).
This was to be one of those “long hot summers” as they were then called, where the threat of an eruption in the ghetto was considered possible at almost any moment. Indeed, on one particular weekend when the racial tensions appeared particularly high, we were advised to leave and go elsewhere: “Do not spend the weekend in West Oakland because it could explode!”
I blithely ignored the warning although I did seize the opportunity to invite one of the other students on a date to go dancing at the Fillmore Auditorium in San Francisco, one of the prime locales of the hippie music scene.
As Sandy and I left the ghetto early that Friday evening, we drove through the streets of our summer neighborhood past sad-looking but still sturdy houses. As we got to larger streets with stop signs and lights, we could see young Black men gathering on the corners, exhibiting a somewhat dark and somber mood.
Sandy began to get nervous but did not say anything other than to remind me to “go!” when it was my right of way and I was too slow hitting the gas.
We could readily see why the University of California was worrying about our safety. Yet nothing happened to us that night, neither on the way out nor returning. Indeed we got through our entire eight week program without major incident for ourselves, the West Oakland neighborhood, or the whole city of Oakland for that matter.
Certainly, something “could have happened” but nothing did, at least not at that time.
There was enough racial unrest going on, however, in Oakland and other cities across the nation, including full-blown riots elsewhere, to make the warning seem dire. Perhaps I was foolish in not taking it more seriously but I preferred to spend the night sleeping on the mattress in the second floor apartment of a house in the heart of West Oakland.
What was the purpose of the course if not to experience daily life in the community? How would running away at the first sign of danger fulfill that purpose?
How ill-equipped youth are to deal with assessing unexpected real-life situations, but going forward with hope and trust made sense to me. They can prove strong allies under such unknown and trying circumstances.
I hoped nothing bad would happen and nothing did but whether this was luck or fate, who is to say? There was more to understanding the rising level of tension, of course—it just wasn’t a roll of the dice.
I refused to believe Oakland was going to explode, at least not without a major spark, and decided to trust my instincts. Sure, in retrospect it might have been better for me (and the others) to have made a quick departure for the weekend.
I could have gone home to my parents’ house that night but I did not want to enter the cycle of fear provoking fear, of “anticipating trouble” which might lead to a self-fulfilling prophecy: a crowd’s dangerous mood igniting and sparking widespread civil unrest.
I might add here that my family moved to Oakland from Ohio when I was twelve years old in the summer of 1960. Although I was born and partly raised in Cleveland, my teenage years were spent in Oakland where I attended Westlake Junior High near Lake Merritt and Oakland Technical High School (42nd and Broadway) before enrolling at U.C. Berkeley.
I think of Oakland as being as much my true home as Cleveland once was when I was a child. I knew a good deal of the city, covered on foot and by bicycle, far beyond the immediate area where we first lived, the house with 32 steps across Broadway from Oak Tech, my high school.
My junior year of college was spent abroad as part of the Education Abroad Program, my first time living away from home, but I returned again to the family home in Oakland. Once on my own, I later lived in several different locations around the city and did not leave the area for good until 1975 when I moved to San Jose.
I may not have roots as deep and thriving as my friends born and raised in Oakland, but I do have some strong transplanted roots in Oakland which I am proud to acknowledge. Oakland was my home for fifteen years (1960-1975) and I am always ready to speak up and defend it against its detractors.
I’m quite aware of the poverty and violence that plague parts of the city but I do believe its harshest critics are seldom fair in their attacks, for they lack a sense for the whole city and the people at their best. Not having lived there, these critics don’t know how to find the pulse of the city.
They don’t know about its diversity, its multi-racial communities that live and work together in harmony; they don’t know what it’s like to have friends who can be black, white, Hispanic, Chinese, Japanese, or Filipino. Just to let the reader know: I am a Tech Bulldog–class of ’65–and proud of it. I am always willing to discuss openly the city’s social and economic problems but any mean-spirited attack will be met with rebuttal from yours truly. Enough said!
Part 2: Background
Back in the summer of ’67, I felt comfortable driving, running, or walking through all parts of Oakland from Jack London Square to Broadway Terrace, from Telegraph Ave. and Shattuck Ave. north to Berkeley or south to downtown; from Piedmont to Lake Merritt, from MacArthur Boulevard to the airport and the stadiums. Oakland was my home in the 1960’s during my pivotal growing up years. I loved the city and still do.
Having said that, I also understand that what was may not remain the same forever. The 1960’s will go down in history as a decade of unprecedented change. The aptly titled song “The Times They Are A-Changin’” was a big hit for folk-poet Bob Dylan and with good reason. The song reflected what was happening in the streets and on the campuses!
During that decade, racial unrest continued to spread to one major city after another. After the Watts Riots in Los Angeles in 1965, the next two summers saw an explosion of riots across the country. Such riots could be sparked by a single incident, often the shooting of a black youth by police. The catastrophic assassination of Dr. King in April 1968 touched off rioting in more than 100 cities.
After a speech by Robert F. Kennedy that April 4th evening, the city of Indianapolis was spared from violence as the people he addressed heeded his words and returned home—but many other cities were not so lucky. The crowd in Indianapolis saw and heard Robert Kennedy speaking from his heart, but elsewhere there was no such moment.
In other cities, the only way to express pent up frustration and anger at Dr. King’s murder was through rioting, burning, and looting. It made no difference to note that Dr. King stood for peace and non-violence—neglected thoughts like that only occurred much later.
“Burn baby burn!” was a frightening eye-opening slogan of the era; it still makes me shudder to think of its horrible and unintended consequences. It was a not-too-subtle invitation to invite a crowd to go on a rampage that far exceeded anything one might expect from the first flash of angry indignation.
The first take-to-the-streets protests would be relatively peaceful but then start to gather ever larger numbers in the hottest locations in the big cities. This rapidly growing crowd fed off its own anger and began showing signs of a mob mentality taking over; the sense of being constantly victimized by injustice multiplied against itself manifold.
The street protest started slowly and then built to a crescendo; there were always a few individuals willing to tip over trash cans and knock over newspaper racks; then someone threw a rock, a brick, a glass bottle.
Car windows were smashed with bats, bricks, and fists; fires were set in trash bins and cars rocked until tipped over; bricks were thrown through store window fronts. Looting and rioting began in earnest and looked like a scene out of Armageddon.
The small early fires now spread to the stores and whole buildings, even entire blocks, went up in flames; the police and fire trucks responding came under attack. That early sullen, milling-about crowd–looking for a way to protest and express their grievances– quickly turned into an angry vengeful mob ready to go berserk, as mobs tend to do.
Besides the spontaneous riots of the long hot summers, better organized and more disciplined protests were also gathering steam. The Sixties became a time of numerous dramatic challenges to the status quo fueled by the Student Rebellion, the anti-Vietnam War movement, Women’s Liberation, the American Indian Movement, the Hippie Drug Subculture, and of course the powerful twin wings of the Civil Rights Movement.
The “peaceful wing” was represented by the non-violent civil disobedience protests led by Dr. King, Ralph Abernathy, Julian Bond, Jesse Jackson and others. After 1965-66, this approach contrasted sharply with the explosive growth of the “Black Power” movement led by Stokely Carmichael, Huey Newton, Bobby Seale, Eldridge Cleaver, and H. Rapp Brown, among others.
As Oakland was home of the Black Panther Party, founded in 1966 by Huey Newton and Bobby Seale, the militancy level was rising especially rapidly among Black youth in Oakland and the surrounding Bay Area. Physical confrontations between the Oakland Police and the Black Panthers were increasing in frequency and volatility and making the nightly news with increasing regularity.
Part 3: meeting the Black Panthers
The warning to us eight white college students enrolled in the Sociology field class, living in rented rooms in West Oakland that summer, was not a joke–although the warning underestimated the ability of Black people to distinguish between friends and enemies. Even though the neighborhood was “Black”, I saw a few people of other ethnic backgrounds who lived there.
As Sandy and I drove “out of the ghetto”, I noticed a white woman going about her shopping, in and out of the local stores, as though nothing was amiss. Oakland was her home and she was not perceived as a threat to anyone. No Black person’s sense of racial pride had yet become so inflated as to make of her the enemy.
It was widely understood that “the man” was not helping to solve the problems of Oakland, an expression which could refer to any representative of the city’s political and business structure: mayor and city council, police and the courts, businessmen and real estate brokers, and the like.
Whether Black people were educated or uneducated, they understood well that there were an endless number of ways in which social and economic discrimination, both overt and subtle, were keeping their people down.
Individual whites living in peace with their Black neighbors were not the enemy. Their very presence showed they had no great prejudice or hatred toward Black people or else they would have avoided living in a Black neighborhood.
In that regard, I don’t think the eight students in my summer class were very likely to be misidentified as enemies, either. We were there to learn and not to become the unwitting targets of someone’s uncontrollable anger toward ‘the man”.
Yes, Black people can get sick of white liberals but they also respect white people who try to cleanse themselves of racism the best they can. I don’t believe we were ever in harm’s way. Still, those “long hot summers” were fraught with enough potential danger as to make even this optimistic opinion more a guess than a certainty.
The course itself involved weekly class sessions with the professor on campus, readings like The Autobiography of Malcolm X (with Alex Haley) and Claude Brown’s Manchild in the Promised Land.
The best part of the class for me and the others, though, was getting to meet in person leaders like Huey P. Newton, Bobby Seale, and Eldridge Cleaver. Our instructor arranged for us to meet with different community leaders, both on campus and in the neighborhood where we were staying.
Ours was perhaps the best-suited living quarters (among the three apartments where the eight of us stayed) to entertain a guest speaker. We (the three guys in the class) rented a second floor apartment with one main room, kitchen, and a small bathroom.
The living room (which doubled as our bedroom) was almost bare of furniture and could accommodate the class, professor, and guests. There were three mattresses on the floor which could be moved out of the way or sat on, a small table or two, and a few chairs. We could provide a few beverages like coffee or tea: nothing luxurious but good enough for the meeting of minds.
Thus it was that Newton and Cleaver, on separate occasions, came to our apartment to talk to us, whereas Bobby Seale preferred speaking to us in our classroom on the Berkeley campus. Kathleen Cleaver accompanied her husband; I was quite impressed with her, more so than Eldridge Cleaver himself.
She was sharp, articulate, thoughtful, a good listener and astute observer. She seemed to naturally understand us better than the men who appeared to rely on catch phraseology and slogans. Kathleen listened to what we had to say and thus she engaged with us—not lectured at us–in meaningful conversation.
Both Newton and Cleaver could intimidate, especially Newton. Cleaver seemed quite relaxed the evening he and Kathleen visited; he sank in comfort into the one big easy chair we had. His eyes were half-closed with a smile on his lips.
He hardly spoke but seemed content to know that Kathleen was there to speak for him. If either Huey or Eldridge were high on drugs I do not know; it was suspected by several of my classmates but there was nothing to prove it definitively so far as I was concerned.
At that time, most of us did not yet know the extent of drug use among certain Black Panther Party leaders, including Newton–other than a general awareness that in Oakland, Berkeley, and San Francisco the taking of psychotropic drugs was common among many young people whether white or black, college student or dropout, hippie or activist.
Eldridge had already written Soul on Ice describing his heroin use and prison experiences—but there was no open discussion of drug-taking while these Black leaders met with us. We ourselves were almost entirely clean except for one evening when we were just beginning to experiment with pot; a roommate had asthma so to avoid smoking a joint he had learned how to make a pot of tea.
(Being good friends, the two of us who were his roommates tried it with him to keep him good company and got a modest high after waiting 30-40 minutes.)
In those days, marijuana was smoked by so many college students and other adults that it hardly raised an eyebrow, being considered not much different from smoking a cigarette. The use of hard drugs, however, was another matter—and drew a line between one group of drug-users and the next.
Thousands of college students smoked pot routinely but the majority never went on to use syringe-delivered addictive drugs like heroin.
Strangely enough, even within the widespread drug subculture there were visibly distinct sub-groups. Pot smokers, heroin users, cocaine snortin’ high rollers, speed freaks, and glassy-eyed acid-heads all belonged to rather different worlds.
While there was some overlapping, of course, there remained distinct lifestyle differences among these various groups. And if political radicals, even those in leadership positions, sometimes indulged in “getting high” it hardly surprised anyone.
It might have been unacceptable for a Republican or Democratic politician in the mainstream to be exposed as a drug user—a career-ending revelation no doubt–but the Sixties exhibited an unusually high tolerance for young people exploring counter-culture life-styles. They had new leaders for their own generation—while the gap in drug use between Mainstream and Counter-Culture was growing narrower all the time.
One merely has to note in passing that our last three presidents—Clinton, Bush II, and Obama—are all believed to have tried a little something extra . . . Today, if mainstream society can accept that Bush had a “substance abuse” problem (reportedly alcohol and cocaine), that Clinton tried marijuana (but “didn’t inhale”), and Obama smoked marijuana and tried cocaine—if the American public can hear all that and still see their way clear to electing each of them president—then the shock once conveyed by the term “drug user” has worn off considerably!
One might go so far as to say that the horror once conveyed by the term “drug user” has entered a period of sharp decline—a decline which had already begun in the fervent “alternative lifestyles are cool” untamed decade of the Sixties.
We should also keep in mind that, just as there were Black people who indulged themselves, there were many others opposed to the taking of drugs. There was a semblance of a continuum between the Black Panthers, the Black Nationalists, and the Black Muslims, the latter of whom rejected drug and alcohol use on religious grounds.
Whether for religious or secular reasons, the Panthers and other community leaders occasionally railed against the introduction of drugs into their communities, suspected as being part of a deliberate ploy by outside forces: “the man” up to his old tricks, this one dirtier and more destructive than most.
The Panther leaders understood that widespread drug use and addiction would sap the strength and vitality of many individuals, families, and even whole neighborhoods. Money needed for housing and school supplies would be siphoned off into buying drugs.
Eventually that would tempt young men and women to make quick money by entering into the drug trade themselves, by joining gangs, by protecting turf, and by resorting to violence to maintain their control. The jails would fill up faster than the schools.
Unfortunately, this brings us to the double standard conundrum, wherein somebody engages in behavior he or she makes a great show of criticizing in others. The Panther leaders knew how drugs could harm the communities they purported to represent, at a time when Newton and others were getting into drug use themselves.
Part 4: the revolutionary leader’s penthouse
I’m not sure of the exact year but I remember one bright sunshiny day walking on the path around the southwest bend of Lake Merritt when I ran into a friend from high school. We stopped and chatted a bit and then he smiled and asked “Roger, do you know who lives in the penthouse up there?” He pointed to the top of a new fourteen story building. I shook my head as I didn’t have a clue. He told me “Huey Newton and some of the Panthers.” That shocked me! What were the leaders of a “revolutionary party” doing living in a lavish penthouse?
So yes, there were indicators that not all was well with Panther Party leadership. Those leaders at the very top had even begun engaging in Russian-style “purges” of their enemies—mainly expulsion from the Party as they did not practice summary executions.
There were also widely circulating rumors of “sexual exploits” and a life-style that may not have seemed principled or revolutionary, but the reliability of these tales told out of school was not well-understood or substantiated until long after.
Although I met Newton but briefly and our first encounter did not go particularly well, I was impressed with the fire in his eyes and in his soul. He was intelligent and expressed his ideas well. He had a fine understanding of the realities of political power, most especially how the Status Quo favored whites at the expense of colored minorities.
In this matter, his attitude was like that of any other revolutionary leader who emerged in areas long under the thumb of colonial rule; such leaders were naturally opposed to the continuing exploitation of their land and people by foreign powers.
Newton borrowed liberally from the rhetoric and strategies of the anti-colonial movements in Africa and elsewhere; he and other Black Panther leaders argued that the situation was an exact parallel, that the Black people in America were being mistreated and exploited exactly like colonial subjects elsewhere.
As the colored minorities of the world were uniting to throw off such domination, so too should Black Americans join them and engage in the same kind of revolutionary struggle.
The Black Panthers, who at times shared certain philosophical principles with the Black Nationalists, were not particularly eager to follow in Dr. King’s footsteps of working toward an integrated society where all races met on an equal basis.
Rather, the more militant leaders advanced the notion of a separate Black identity and economic self-sufficiency within the larger body politic. This approach was perhaps fatally flawed but such notions contributed their fair share to raising the heat of the insurrectionary flames, as well as building up Black Pride.
I remember well how, years later (in the early 1980’s), I asked white middle-class students what they knew of the civil rights movement, from Dr. Martin Luther King’s non-violence to Black Power. At the time I was earning my doctorate in U.S. History, which included working as a Teaching Assistant (instructor).
A young man of about eighteen years of age raised his hand to answer my question. He admitted that he knew very little but could recall clearly the first time he saw a Black person wearing a “BLACK IS BEAUTIFUL” T-shirt. He said it had a big impact on him and served as a catalyst to his new thinking regarding the condition and interests of Black people in our country, as he recounted the story.
Part 5: bad press and criticism
I am painfully aware that a great deal of negative press was written about Huey Newton and the Black Panthers, much of it out of fear. Certainly, conservative political elements in American society wanted no part of such militant rhetoric; the “call to revolution” filled them with loathing and outrage. Yet it wasn’t only the ultra-conservatives who were upset and alarmed.
Criticism also arose among the non-violent wing of the Civil Rights Movement with many liberals, both black and white, uncertain as to what the new militancy would mean down the road. Those committed to Dr. King’s non-violent approach shared the same general desire for progress in civil rights as Newton but disagreed over which philosophy and strategies were best to achieve necessary social change.
I, too, sometimes believed Newton was making a mistake in certain of his actions and utterances, yet I never had reason to doubt the intelligence, sincerity, and courage of the man. He had all three qualities in abundance, although he never quite mastered the turbulence of his highly charged personality or learned the art of being diplomatic.
His was a lonely sort of genius, if genius it was—like Moses seeking to lead his people out of bondage and spiritual impoverishment into a better life. Beyond the rhetoric, I believe he had a vision guiding him as to how to arrange and fight his battles.
Every struggle–whether win, lose, or draw–was a helpful guide to him as to what direction and shape the next stage of the struggle should take. He learned from the fierce competition of ideas within revolutionary theory and from the fierce street fights between Oakland Police and the Panthers.
When his latest outburst of creativity clashed with the surrounding social reality, he insisted that he was right and others wrong. Historically, strong-willed leaders during times of crisis have had to face seemingly insuperable obstacles.
Often it was only through persistence in the face of adversity that success came by them stamping their imprimatur on the movement they led—and I think Newton at his best exemplified this spirit of resistance and dogged determination to keep going no matter what the obstacles, even if it sometimes blinded him to legitimate criticism.
He was impatient to make things happen and this impatience did not always give him the requisite time needed to define and refine his points of view before speaking. Perhaps he should have spent more time listening to the advice of older activists, both Black and white, thereby learning of their struggles and benefiting from their experiences—but such was not his way.
When I suggested as much on his one visit to our apartment classroom—that he should not ignore the experiences of older activists, both black and white–he shot me a cold hard look and said in a calm yet steely voice: “I could consider that a racist remark.”
It cast an immediate chill over everyone in the room and rather ruined the chances for opening up a wider give-and-take exchange. We were not discussing social conditions and possible solutions within movements for change, but getting the Party line. He was already wholly committed to his ideology and his beloved Panther Party. Any implied criticism, however well-intentioned, was seen as an immediate threat.
Yet, despite his reply, I had a chance to observe his overall demeanor and follow his thinking. He was still quite young, certainly so when compared to the age of most political leaders in our country.
Kennedy was the youngest president ever elected at age 43; Reagan was just a few days short of 70 and nearly 78 when he departed the White House. By comparison, Huey was born in 1942 and only 24 years of age in 1966 as Black Panther Party co-founder. He wasn’t even old enough to be a member of Congress with its minimum age of twenty-five years for Representative and thirty for Senator!
Not surprisingly, the quip “don’t trust anyone over thirty” became a common slogan and bumper strip. The differences between the Status Quo political machinery and the challenges of the New Left and Black Revolutionaries were many in nature and scope—this was just another one. In political shorthand, “young” was good and “old” was bad.
Taking the long view, it was too simplistic–but it seemed real enough at the time. Newton had the natural energy and fire of youth which was a plus for his leadership style, but he lacked the maturity that older leaders only acquire after having been tested in the fires of hell over many years, in the never-ending struggle for justice and human rights.
Part 6: revolutionary leader and his place in history
I think Newton really wished to become a great revolutionary leader. For men like George Washington and Abraham Lincoln, or Benito Juarez and Simon Bolivar, such single-minded devotion to a cause is remarked upon as noteworthy and almost sacred in its nature. It was an expression of character and principle, of courage and dedication.
For Newton, agitating within the confines of a society in which Black people remained a minority with relatively little access to the levers of political power, a different sort of characterization awaited him. Such single-minded devotion on his part made him an ideologue, a propagandist, a dangerous incendiary—among other scathing epithets.
The traits described as virtues for other leaders became twisted into vices within the pages of newspaper articles about Newton. Washington was stubborn; Newton was misguided. Lincoln was persistent; Newton was obsessed. Juarez was devoted; Newton was dangerous. Bolivar was heroic; Newton was fanatical.
They were great men leading their people; Newton was a nuisance feeding his people false hope and inciting them to dangerous acts of violence and retaliation.
And so it went; the would-be hero of Oakland was vilified in the press along with his two co-leaders, Bobby Seale and Eldridge Cleaver. At times they were treated more like outcasts and criminals than legitimate political rebels. They tried to remain outside of the system’s escalator of fast and easy complacency (tinged-with-corruption) while the system was all too eager to oblige them.
I do not mean to excuse Newton’s faults as a leader or overlook destructive tendencies of his private life, but few Americans have had to face such a continuous barrage of hostility from the press as Newton did, while trying to build the reputation of his Black Panther Party and himself.
The Panthers made substantial efforts at education and moral persuasion, often overlooked and forgotten these days—since the press knew how to ignore the rational arguments of Newton and the Black Panthers.
Instead, the press chose to play the journalistic game of cat-and-mouse, relishing in the challenges of how to bait Newton into saying something rash or frightful.
They waited to pounce on his next militant or outlandish statement. Sometimes, it is true, Newton spoke impulsively in a condescending or angry tone—such remarks, when shorn of their context, were quoted readily by journalists eager to inflame the feelings of the general public against the Panthers.
They were treated like pariahs, like enemies, even when they tried to help Black communities with their free breakfast program for schoolchildren. This is remembered as one of the few positive accomplishments of the Panther Party—as though they contributed nothing else to the dialogue and agitation for social change to improve racial equality for Black people in the country! “Black is Beautiful” was also a contribution.
After society declared the Panthers outside of the mainstream (and the political pundits had their field day with jibes, jests and insults) there was hardly anything the Panthers could have said or done to overcome such continuous press hostility (save for the underground newspapers). There was hardly any goal they could have set that would have ever satisfied their bourgeois critics that the Panthers were intelligent men and women capable of seeking legitimate ways to bring about social change.
Part 7: the heyday gives way to the downfall
I speak now of the period when the Panthers first came on the scene and built up their organization and influence, leading to their heyday of power and influence in the mid-to-late 1960’s. They would arrive like a comet and shine brightly for a few years but burn themselves out just as quickly. Once gone, it almost seemed like a dream, as though they had never existed or managed to exert much influence at all—but of course they had.
Newton and the others were already facing waves of criticism even when they were most at the apex of their successful organizing, but later on editorial opinions about Huey Newton grew steadily worse–especially in the years following the apogee of the Black Panther movement. The carrying of guns to the State Capitol in Sacramento (even if unloaded) marked a turning point. The condemnation in the mainstream press was virtually unanimous in chastising the Panther Party’s action.
In addition, unpleasant aspects of Newton’s life and personality began coming to light, including stories of violence and drug addiction. He apparently had a violent temper, since court cases arose in which he was accused of murdering a police officer, for which he was convicted.
Subsequent to that, there was the killing of a woman who had been auditing the financial books of the Party—at least according to author David Horowitz (He was once close to the Panther leadership before his transformation into a conservative.)
Over the years it came to light—public knowledge beyond the inner circle that already knew—that Newton had an expensive drug habit. He was heavy into the use of cocaine or “rock cocaine”. He apparently was trying to buy more (though already in debt) on the day of his death.
The Huey Newton I am remembering, however, is the young Newton of the 1960’s. He was inspired to do what he could to oppose police violence and misconduct in Black neighborhoods, as well as challenge the racist nature of American society in general.
He tried to build community solidarity and develop pride in being Black by raising awareness of African-Americans’ distinctive cultural achievements, both in Africa and America. There was a teacher in Newton, hidden behind the revolutionary’s mask.
When asked where he got the name for his new political party, his answer was typically blunt. He said that a black panther was a cat which in its natural habit was not normally aggressive. Having gained the attention of question-asking reporters, he then drove his point home by adding there was one important exception: that when a panther was cornered, it would defend itself.
Indeed, it would turn and attack if necessary—and from that example is where the name “Black Panther Party” originated. “Will attack when cornered”: but presumably most of the reporters missed its real significance.
It does not behoove me while penning these last reflections of Huey Newton to go into great detail about his views or discuss further the people and organizations who vigorously opposed him for one reason or another.
The large crowd that showed up for his funeral, twenty years after the cyclone days of the Sixties had passed, attests to the fact that he touched thousands of lives—that he was indeed the spark he always meant to be.
The emotional turmoil of his funeral day, ranging from grief to gratitude, from sorrow to celebration, amply attests to the high esteem he had earned among many friends and followers. There were many who spoke deep words of respect and compassion for him, alongside those who wept openly.
Their words of homage and tears of grief bespeak a final testimonial to Newton far better than any I can carve upon this page with words alone. Many of his enemies have gladly forgotten him but his friends and followers never will.
Whether one agrees or disagrees with Newton and the philosophy of the Panthers, such sterling courage in the face of adversity still deserves our recognition and respect.
Part 8: Newton’s life comes to an end
Nevertheless, I am not satisfied that all that could be said of him was said that day at his funeral. And thus I am moved to write this remembrance, even though my words may end up nothing more than a belated futile effort to do him justice. So be it; my conscience will not be content with anything less.
I will let others enjoy the cheap pleasures of heaping calumnies upon him. I only wish for young people to have a chance to read one opinion in which someone who met him remembers the good in Newton’s life, especially once it is placed in the larger context of the ongoing great struggle for justice and liberty.
I’m thinking about the police report that said he was unarmed when he met his death, shot down on the streets of Oakland near a drug-house. What a terrible twist of fate when we think of how closely Newton’s name was associated with the call for Blacks to arm themselves. How ironic that the professed champion of “Defend yourself with weapons, Black Brothers and Sisters!” went to his death without arms.
Why didn’t he have a gun with him? Had he forgotten? Or had he outgrown the need to carry one? Did he feel that among his own people, in his own city, he had no need to worry? Perhaps we will never know. Tis merely strange that Newton died unarmed, shot and killed by a Black gang member. Many would have once said of him that if he a violent death were to be his fate, it would occur during a shoot-out with police.
Instead, he died craving another high, having spent the best years of his life trying to liberate his people from the racist poisons and practices of American society. Where did he go wrong? How else may we interpret his death—being shot down on the streets near a crack-house—if not as evidence that somewhere along the way he left the path of nobility and courage and made a wrong turn that led to his untimely death?
Could that man bleeding to death on a public sidewalk be the same man who scared half of California out of their wits with his threats of armed resistance to police racism?
If the Black Panther movement inspired fear in whites, as is frequently argued, it was only trying to point out the limitations of non-violence and its snail pace record of success. Racism remained deeply embedded in society, the Panthers felt, a fact they wished to publicize.
The movement did this in part by pricking the skin of white America in as discomforting and hostile manner as possible, thereby hoping to expose the extent of the virulent racism still remaining. Huey Newton and his party helped develop alternative to the non-violent civil rights movement and gave their own efforts a more militant cutting edge.
The very contrast that the Black Panthers provided for the two wings of the struggle for racial equality gave the broader civil rights movement a greater chance for success—never mind the opprobrium they brought down on their own heads.
Let us not forget that in the not too distant past Dr. King was once the new radical kid on the block, as the white power structure perceived him. After Huey Newton’s arrival on the scene, Dr. King became more readily became firmly ensconced in the nation’s arms as a dependable intelligent leader of the highest order. The Panthers made Dr. King look moderate by comparison and far more appealing to millions of Americans.
Such a consequence was probably unintentional but Huey Newton and the Black Panthers, in daring to fight, served a double purpose: their own and that of the civil rights movement taken as a whole. They reminded millions of people across the nation that the only way to defuse the racial potential for violent clashes was to pass and enforce new civil rights legislation.
John Kennedy and Lyndon Johnson were probably the first presidents to receive and understand the message, setting the precedent for practically every president who followed them. To keep the peace, “the man” would have to recognize the Black movement for equality and promise to do more.
Part 9: not afraid to die, not afraid to live
Huey Newton was of the Black people and for the Black people, whatever else may be said of him. Perhaps he strayed toward “reverse racism” but this was more a measure of his belief in Black liberation than it was a deep-seated animosity to white people. As was true for many Black people, Newton inherited a legacy distrust of white people built up over time generation after generation, layer by layer.
The press and public wanted a clean-cut “good guy” and Newton showed them glimpses of an angry “bad guy” instead dark. They wanted a diplomat and a negotiator; Newton showed them a revolutionary. And even if he wasn’t always perfectly virtuous and clean, smelling like a rose in springtime, what of it?
Are we to think toiling working class people should always be freshly perfume-scented? Yes, he used profanity on occasion but that kind of talk was understood by his audience and followers, just as easily as eloquent speech.
Essentially, the real vulgarity of American society for Newton preceded him by many decades, even centuries. For Newton, the real brutality and vulgarity of speech and action arose with slavery during a hellish brutal period spanning nearly 250 years!
That was the real reason why he reacted contemptuously toward persons who accused him of being racist and violent. He knew that nothing the Panthers countenanced doing would ever compare to slavery’s inhumanity and degradation.
What was his occasionally “nasty attitude” that displeased some white folk, compared to the tales of suffering and woe suffered by Black people for over two centuries? American racism, which existed on a far grander scale than anything the Panthers could add or subtract, existed for generations before he ever arrived on the scene. They were accusing him of being racist? It was a ludicrous accusation in his eyes.
The bloody whip, the maiming and murdering of slaves, the attacks upon the womanhood of Black slave women, the undernourishment of body and soul, the deprivation of all chances for literacy and education, the forcible breaking-up of slave families at the auction block for profit or convenience of white slave owners who were free to dispose of “their property” in any way they chose: all this and more, to Newton’s mind, left a deeply imprinted legacy of racism on American society.
Only the most powerful and direct-action revolutionary movement could ever hope to ameliorate, let alone eliminate, the horrendous historical baggage from the past.
Part 10: the comet flashes through the sky
Some critics downplay the importance of a “comet” among leaders, as though such a leader is somehow unstable or unworthy of serious respect because such leadership was so short-lived. Yet the “comets” often play just as vital a historical role for movements of great social change as the other kind of leadership that matures slowly and succeeds eventually from its sheer longevity.
Nor should we forget that Huey Newton was a man with political theories who expressed himself through prose and poetry—along with his threatening rhetoric and profanity.
Unfortunately, it was that curious mix of good and bad traits which tended to confuse people and which–under the imprimatur of an openly hostile press–gave him and the Panthers such a tainted name. It is to miss the essence of the man, however, and of the movement he inspired, to concentrate solely on his vices which repel us.
He gave structure and inspiration to the Black Panther Party—he made a difference, organizationally and philosophically, in the minds and hearts of Black people looking for a prouder, stronger sense of Black identity.
Granted, he angered and antagonized many people and made enemies along the way; so be it. He would be the first to admit as much, seeing it more as a badge of honor than a weakness. He never aimed at anything bland or predictable in the first instance; he clearly favored the daring act that challenged those settling into forgetful complacency.
He pursued the unexpected strategy with all the vigor of a chess master, as though enjoying keeping others off-balance and furious at him. To provoke such a response was part and parcel of the man and his theory of revolutionary change; it was done as deliberately as any other aspect of his speeches and actions.
Had American society been able to advance more rapidly in the dismantling of racist institutions—had society been able to engineer quantum leaps forward in the extension and protection of civil rights for all—we might have seen another side of Newton.
No doubt we would have been left with a better image, a far more pleasant memory as when he flashed a handsome smile and he indulged in disarming laughter—a relaxed countenance that most people saw but rarely.
Had society been able to overcome its own fear, guilt, and recalcitrance when it came to fighting racism, Huey Newton might well have emerged as a leader on par with the likes of Dr. King. Had society just given him something to work with, some cause for hope: some reason to believe again in the promise of equality!
Had the American government and citizenry been willing to tackle discrimination and exploitation head on with strength and purpose, perhaps there would have been room for Newton to have blossomed as another kind of man, a leader offering more cooperation between the Panthers and other groups and institutions.
To gain the Panthers trust, Americans would have needed to break down age-old power relationships of class and race behind the exploitation of Black labor—and here, when it came to taking the first step, Americans continued to drag their feet at every level of the economy and of political jurisdiction.
That lethargy left only “do nothing” and “waiting” for change to happen. No wonder so much Black anger was directed toward the sapping inertia of “gradualism”, which meant a turtle pace so slow one could not be sure if any real progress were happening at all.
Even for Dr. King and the non-violent civil right movement, it was well understood that the admonition to “wait for the right time” meant debilitating inaction—that nothing would change. For the next generation of Black youth, delay and compromise meant even less: just a continuation of broken promises and veiled hypocrisy well-practiced.
Many Americans were surprised at the depth of anger the Panthers displayed, but they had little reason to expect otherwise. Had society been able to support Newton in his efforts to break down racism, he might have gone far—how far, no one can tell.
He had potential greatness as a leader, being gifted with an instinct for understanding the temper of the times and of people in ways that many elected representatives never approach, even after many years of service on behalf of their constituencies.
He was in touch with Black moods and needs as though he were the organic flowering of the thoughts and emotions of thousands of Black people angry at continuously being denied justice for so long.
The shame is not merely that Huey Newton died a sudden violent death or even that he was only half-remembered and fleetingly honored in the days that followed. The real shame is that a society still beset by racism never gave him that fair chance he needed to lead a full life as a man.
American society never bothered to tap into the anger, humor, and genius that were also an undeniable and integral part of Huey Newton.
For those of us who remember him, his death will continue to give us pause. His life invites us to take another long hard look at the society into which he was born. What can we say of the pervasive racism that has hounded so many millions of Black people over the decades, young and old, male and female, educated and uneducated alike?
Farewell to a Comrade
Part 1
I, for one, will miss him deeply. I miss the sharpness of his attacks, his challenge to the conscience of each and every one of us.
Now he must join the list of other notables killed and martyred for their beliefs: John Kennedy, Medgar Evers, Malcolm X, Dr. King, Robert Kennedy, and, last but not least, Huey Newton. No, he wasn’t assassinated in the usual way but society made sure to hasten along his untimely death nonetheless.
It doesn’t matter a whole lot who the “good martyrs” were and who the “bad ones” are in the eyes of others—whether we stand or remain seated when one of their names is mentioned; it doesn’t matter whether we feel a chill down our spine for our heroes while showing little or no compassion for the ones we don’t like. For the latter, no sorrow–not even a single tear is allowed to escape and roll down our cheeks.
Some of these martyrs achieved a national standing and a reputation larger than life, while others were always struggling to gain influence and respect, but that doesn’t matter.
While some were wildly popular with wide swathes of the American people, others were kept off an “equal playing field” by a hostile press: that doesn’t matter, either. None of that matters. What matters is they were fighting against discrimination, prejudice, and institutionalized racism.
They were fighting for justice and equality. They were all struggling against a common foe: bigotry, ignorance, and reactionary intransigence from all those opposed to change.
These men wanted to improve America so the less fortunate could have a chance at life.
They wanted to ensure that minorities and the poor could still believe in an America willing to admit and correct its mistakes by developing policies that would make a positive difference in their lives. These men were both optimists and realists at one and the same time. They were hopeful better days were possible.
They also understood that overcoming resistance to change was a long hard process that involved education, persuasion, and on-the-street struggles. They were ready to break unjust laws and go to jail to draw attention to racial injustice.
They stood for the best of American ideals, knowing that their views would be perceived as too radical by some yet not fearing the name-calling. Their beliefs and actions would soon bring them into conflict with “keep the status quo intact” power brokers who were the chief beneficiaries of arbitrary and unchecked power, be it political or economic.
Conservatives, racists, and the wealthy did not appreciate seeing their world threatened with change at a quickening pace and in a manner which challenged their control. They saw their own place in a rapidly evolving society was uncertain at best.
That is what matters, that these Black men and women saw injustice and resolved to oppose it; they witnessed social inequality and knew it wasn’t right; they saw people lacking freedom to achieve their potential–and they knew instinctively it wasn’t fair.
They were all willing to fight for their ideals so others could experience greater freedom, justice, and equality. They did so by the light of their own consciences and with whatever gifts of mind bestowed upon them from birth.
Their struggle for equality must not be allowed to remain unfinished. It is our task to carry the struggle forward as far as we are able–as far as it is given to any single generation to achieve within the span of a lifetime. They helped lay a new foundation but others must keep building.
And we onlookers—book-educated, theory-enlightened, and passively thoughtful within the safety of our houses and offices—perhaps we will recall the intensity of that struggle.
Perhaps we will now and then pause to lay the book aside to reflect on the great courage of men such as these, including the one man whose name is most frequently left off such a list: Huey P. Newton.
In that moment of reflection, let us remember the challenge Newton laid down to the country to eliminate racism from our society.
In that moment of calm, we may recall that steely-like glint in his eyes that could make a man afraid and cause society to tremble. But let us not stop there; let us also recall the bright, shiny eyes that inspired thousands of young Black men and women to walk tall with pride—to show courage and pride in who they were.
Let us recall his leadership in guiding their understanding toward how best to contribute their talents toward the success of the growing struggle against second class citizenship.
Yes, he could give a look that appeared as ferocious as the eye of a tiger—but the accusing eye of Huey Newton was never an eye that countenanced anger or violence for its own sake. His eyes remembered all too well the beatings and indignities endured by Black people for generations: that was the well from whence the personal anger came.
Yet he always had a higher purpose. The wrath he engendered and the enmity he inflamed were in response to his ideas and principles—not his personal shortcomings.
If he himself perhaps lost the way near the end of his life with his abuse of cocaine, it is to do no more than admit that he was no saint. Even so, he was of and for his people; he was no demagogue, no fool, no Uncle Tom, no sell-out artist, no violence-seeking provocateur hired by “the man”.
He loved Black people and he wanted to see them set free; that driving motivation was his passion and his cause as well as part of his demons–and, in time, part of his downfall.
He wanted too much too quickly for the world to keep pace.
He was a man whose charisma and energy set him apart from his contemporaries. He possessed a kind of clairvoyant insight into the souls of people as he gazed into your eyes; it felt like he knew you better than you knew yourself.
He had deep insights into the workings of society, too, and a sense of what was possible for the future: a power of insight that could never be fraudulently duplicated by another.
He was a wholly unique individual, a leader of often grim determination who resolved to put an end to police mistreatment of Black people in Oakland. He dedicated himself to acquiring for Black people a full equality—not limited rights granted to them by a white power structure but capturing every right belonging to all Americans.
He wanted his people to demand the rights of full equality in a way that the victory would be theirs, not “the man’s”; rights they themselves could boldly proclaim. And so it was.
Part 2
I think back sometimes on the remarks made by Dr. Martin Luther King at the funeral for the four girls killed in Birmingham, Alabama in the basement of a church.
If the reader has forgotten the details, the names of the girls were Denise McNair, Addie Mae Collins, Carole Robertson, and Cynthia Wesley. Three of the girls were fourteen while Denise was only eleven.
The Church was the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church; the date was September 15, 1963. The bomb detonated in the morning, during the quiet of Sunday School.
This tragedy occurred only eighteen days after Dr. King’s memorable “I Have a Dream” speech delivered as the culminating “moment in history” during the March on Washington on Aug. 28, 1963. If that speech raised the nation’s hopes of seeing the mountaintop, the bombing plunged the nation back down into the valley of despair.
The families requested he deliver the eulogy for the four martyred girls. What could any man say, even as gifted a speaker as Dr. King, on a day where all hope of reconciliation and trust appeared blasted into oblivion?
Dr. King, profoundly moved and tasked with a seemingly impossible challenge, searched for the right words of comfort to ease the aching hearts of so many searching for a way to make sense of the senseless.
He preached that the girls’ parents should be proud: for their daughters were not out on the streets at the time of their deaths, doing bad or dangerous or foolish things. They were in a house of the Lord studying the Bible when the fatal bomb blast occurred.
In this manner he proceeded to deliver one of his greatest orations. He gave consolation where moments before there had been none. He rose to the occasion and lifted the spirits of family and friends and concerned Americans everywhere. He took that hope which had fallen deep into the valley of despair and he raised it back up again and placed it once more on the pinnacle of the mountaintop of freedom where it belonged.
His own face was worked up in ways never seen before, so strong were his emotions contorting it as he wrestled with the pain of this great sorrow–and yet he knew he had to obey his minister’s calling to rise above his personal pain to express healing words of comfort to those in greatest need.
It’s impossible to think that the same remarks could ever have attended the death of one as passionate and rebellious as Huey Newton. He wasn’t a girl, he wasn’t a child, and he wasn’t in a Bible class student at the time of his death. He was a man who had to face death in a man’s way, however suddenly or violently it came.
Dr. King ends his stirring eulogy by borrowing a line from William Shakespeare:
“Goodnight, sweet princesses…and may the flight of angels take thee to thy eternal rest.”
Everyone knew no one was going to utter any such eloquent words over Huey Newton’s casket when his time came, or anything even close to it. But for me, beneath his stern visage—sometimes a mask, sometimes a flashing beacon of danger—was a soul as gentle as a girl’s and as beautiful. He had a tender side that he seldom showed others, at least in public—and yet, it was there.
I, for one, would like to defy society’s convention and wish Huey Newton that peaceful rest that was denied him in life—“Goodnight, sweet prince; may flight of angels take you to your sleep!”
For many, he was a new kind of prince. The courage and loyalty he inspired in others through the example of his own righteousness will never be forgotten by his closest friends and allies—and yes, a righteous anger conceded to be such even by his critics and enemies, if they remember him honestly.
For Huey Newton at the height of his power with the Black Panther Party was righteous in a way that baffled news reporters and those who only heard of him from afar. Politics in America by that time had engendered so much cynicism that no one believed a leader could emerge who was not in some way self-serving, ambitious, devious, and corrupt.
The day of the righteous man, motivated by principle and conscience was coming to an end and it appeared to be passing entirely out of view—but not quite yet. There was still time for one more such man.
The tragedy of his life was not his alone but also a tragedy that reflects poorly on American society. He was Black in a once slavery-cursed America; his harsh truth too often fell on deaf ears. Nevertheless, his moral righteousness sometimes pierced the complacency surrounding him by transcending a given moment of space and time.
His moral anger was of a deeper quality than a mere brief record of his day-to-day life could ever indicate. He had a thirst for justice and he had a question for America, land of his birth: when and how would the racism end?
They answered him with lies, false promises, arrests, calumny, the temptation of drugs, and more violence—they overwhelmed him with a crazy irrational mix of ideals and injustices that has plagued American society from its inception.
And yet, who among us could have stood up and faced him, eye to eye? Who among us could have answered his quest for knowledge and change? Who could have matched him truth for truth, soul to soul, at the time his power was at its greatest? When the Dream was still before him, the rebellion imminent, and all seemed possible?
Who would have answered him? No one! Huey Newton had that kind of immense courage that dwarfed the odds against him. His personal magnetism and organizational leadership showed that a small band of disciplined men and women could overcome larger numbers in the fight for equality and justice.
He proved they could even hold their own against the miseducation of school, politics, and a press that published lies and half-truths. With a relatively small number of devoted followers, he and the Panthers demonstrated just how much could be accomplished even in the face of a powerful and entrenched enemy.
He showed everyone, near and far, how the Powers That Be could still be made to shake inside their boots. The defenders of the Status Quo, the friends and allies of the Man, recognized in him an implacable foe that could not be dissuaded from his path.
Other methods must be found to reduce his influence, to undermine his credibility, to find ways around his questions and accusations that they had no honest way of answering.
The tragedy of Huey Newton, at the end, becomes yet another tragedy in the long history of racism in American society.
But I, as Witness, must attest to the fact that the Huey Newton I met fought racism as directly, as courageously and as passionately as any man I ever knew, bar none. He did so by his own lights and by following the dictates of his own conscience.
No mere sentimental lip service here—he was a tiger fighting for his people, a man who would never seek nor accept false praise. The struggle wasn’t about him; it was about the place of Black people in American society.
Black people should be rightfully tired of their second class citizenship at the bottom of society; it was time to rise up and fight for their rights. They needed leaders to provoke and inspire them. Newton saw himself as fit for the task and rose to the challenge.
His ‘mistakes”—if mistakes they be—pale in comparison to his integrity, intelligence, and determination to better the lives of Black people not only for his own generation but for the next “coming up” generation as well: younger brothers and sisters coming of age.
In an era where heroes are few and far between, I believe Huey Newton met all the most pertinent qualifications with room to spare.
The Black Panthers created a historical moment in time full of fiery action and speech; the whole country was undergoing a crisis of conscience while facing ever widening and ever stronger hammer blows for racial justice.
The Sixties proved a decade of transformation in the attitudes and understanding of thousands of people of every race and color, not just Black men and women. The Party’s leaders may have underestimated what it would take to create a lasting organizational structure that would survive into the future.
Building for the future proved more difficult than setting short-term goals, after their own early blasts of energy–with which they had infused the Party in its earliest days—peaked. The headlines they once commanded did not translate into long-term political success.
That was not to be as the passing of time would reveal; the power to reshape the future passed into the hands of other policy makers and wheeler-dealers who learned to master the game of politics.
Even so, we must look critically at that dynamic period when the Panthers were players; we must assess anew what Newton, Seale, and Cleaver did during those first few years when wise words were at a premium and strategic actions were crucial.
They no doubt measured their own success by the appearance of thousands of young Black activists springing into motion. The exact number of Black Panther Party members other historians may wish to address, but the number of young people who grew Afros, wore “Black Is Beautiful” T-shirts, added African-inspired patterns to their dress, and who “walked the walk” and “talked the talk” was obviously far greater than the rolls.
The Party sparked changes in personal habits, attitudes, and values in the Black community, changes which proved significant and widespread. The effects of Newton’s teachings were visible daily in the demeanor and speech of thousands of Black youth.
On college campus and in high school corridors, a mini-revolution was underway. Many Blacks, especially teenagers and young adults, were greatly influenced by the Panthers’ militant rhetoric and resistance.
This growing popular base (beyond the number of actual members) helped make the Party a formidable political force in its own right during its heyday. Yet the Panthers, from seeming so great a height and impregnable position, found they had not created a revolutionary organization that could stand the test of time.
They could not achieve their dream of vanquishing racism nor of re-structuring society in such form and manner as to cause a quantum leap forward for building racial equality.
Analyzing why Newton and other Panther leaders failed to build a lasting Party involves examining a host of factors which are outside the scope of this personal reminiscence.
Such a question would not be an easy matter to pursue, but suffice it to say there were hints of trouble within the Party even during its days of greatest power and notoriety.
There were rumors of internal dissension, both personal and factional, as well as attrition caused by defections, arrests, convictions, and shoot-outs with police–to say nothing of those who left the Party because of a change in their thinking or because they needed to move into the marketplace of respectable jobs and steady income.
There was the nature of the rapidly changing society all around them which was far more complex and multi-faceted than many of the radicals comprehended. The theories upon which they operated were not as solid as they once imagined; even leaders like Newton showed a marked hostility to the slightest criticism, however well-intentioned or experienced-based its origins.
The Panther claim that America was as thoroughly racist as always was a rhetorical contention no longer supported by actual statistical analysis. The mistreatment of Blacks by racist police was real but it tended to warp the Panthers’ ability to assess accurately the rest of American society.
Inevitably, both from the Left and the right, there were those who charged that the Panthers were playing at revolution; the accusation was made that they lacked the deeper understanding of revolutionary theory and practice needed to challenge effectively the bot the political and economic system.
There was the issue of class and race, or perhaps better expressed as class vs. race. Revolutionary theory for generations had been built on the theory of an all-inclusive movement built on the working class as its strongest base, supported by intellectuals, college students, and others of sympathetic like-mindedness.
The Panthers took the opposite view; their movement was for Black people, excluding nearly all others. It might have made short-term sense but it was a long-term disaster.
I attended a Black Panther Party meeting at the Berkeley Community Center where the audience was nearly all Black, save for a dozen or so white persons scattered throughout the huge auditorium. A speaker announced that it might not be safe for the white people to remain as the Panthers had some dirty laundry to air; he guaranteed the personal safety of any who wished to leave.
I still thought about staying but I was with another whose safety mattered to me, so the two of us chose to depart. So did the rest of other fair-skinned ones with two or three exceptions—they being of the long-haired wild-eyed hippie type willing to take up arms with their Black brothers to start the revolution in a blaze of glory.
The speaker, incidentally, who extended us his protective shield was the legendary comedian Dick Gregory. It was an awesome moment to hear him say “I personally will guarantee the safety of anyone who wishes to leave”—but the implied reference to danger was real enough to prompt our exit.
Thus, I do not know what was discussed that day but I cite the incident not for what knowledge was gained or lost on my part, but rather as an example of the evolving “Blacks only” attitude that became first an organizational strength and then a weakness of Newton and the Black Panther Party.
Reverse racism—a phrase that provoked great umbrage—had nevertheless raised its ugly head and was making slow but steady inroads into the thinking of many Americans, whether they were yet aware. Newton tended to lump all criticism into one large white racist mass.
The Panthers were so pro-Black and so anti-white they sometimes failed to appreciate the wide spectrum of views and groups that existed within American society, preferring instead to label all with the single epithet “white racist”.
While some whites were indeed racist and no doubt harbored resentment and anger toward the Panthers for that reason alone, it was not the whole story. There was a much larger body of whites in the country who did not consider themselves racist; indeed, they knew in their hearts they were not. They too, for different reasons, became skeptical of Panther actions and its ultra-revolutionary language.
One of the hallmarks of white racism has always been the negative stereotyping of all Black people en masse. Now it seemed the Panthers and Black Nationalists were doing the same thing again, only in reverse. They began describing all white people as racists: and hence the true origins of the phrase “reverse racism”.
Newton and his co-leaders tried to shrug off the phrase as of no importance, as a mere trick of rhetoric employed by their enemies, but they missed an opportunity to examine their philosophy and tactics in a new light. Even though their popularity was waning rapidly, they stuck to the fiery speeches that had brought them all the attention.
Their energy and passion ran high but the ability to pause and coolly reassess the temper of the times was not well-developed. They plunged ahead anyway; they were committed to views based on their own experiences of racial mistreatment at the hands of police and the wider society, but failed to modify these views as changing conditions warranted.
When they fell from grace, the fall was long and hard—with no way to stop the plunge or re-imagine the Party in some new and vital manner. Perhaps longevity was never their goal, nor was “re-inventing” themselves a particularly appealing process.
At their fiery best, the Panther leadership scared people with their intensity and promises to bring the heat; changing into anything else would not have been in keeping with their purpose or their temperament.
Huey Newton and the Panthers hated hypocrisy and the double-dealing politicians of every kind and stripe—an accusation that could never be leveled at Newton, say what one might about his other traits and vices. And for every press article that exaggerated the menace he represented, one should not forget that many young people, both black and white, applauded and supported his leadership—and there were still others who sympathized with the cause though not involved in marches and protests.
Many thousands of college students felt safer when the Panthers were present at a large demonstration; their presence was reassuring because it helped drive away fear of police attacks or insults and threats from hostile onlookers.
When the Panthers put in a public appearance, they did so in style and in a highly organized and efficient manner. Modeled on Army discipline, they dressed alike, marched in straight lines, and obeyed commands unquestioningly.
The members of the Panther vanguard on such occasions were not smiling or mixing with others; they were all business and not to be challenged. Any large gathering of hippies, activists, college students, and the general public was far less likely to be hassled by the police with the disciplined brotherhood of Huey Newton’s Panthers standing guard!
People forget this aspect of their story—their mere presence provided escort and protection during great demonstrations where they helped keep the peace.
Looking back, the “Brothers and Sisters” were many in those days and they were never all of one race. Today we think of the phrase as meaning “Black” but the truth is there was something that mattered more than skin color; that was what the individual believed, how they acted, how they treated others, and whether they were willing to stand up and fight for their principles.
There was a tremendous amount of interaction between different ethnic groups despite the tendency of the Panthers to pay special attention to the needs of their own race first.
The demand for Ethnic Studies grew by leaps and bounds. This movement witnessed the founding of departments for African-American, Mexican-American, Asian-American, and Women’s Studies.
The Brown Berets—modeled on the Panthers’ use of a black beret–represented a growing militancy among Mexican-Americans. The American Indian Movement sprang into life as did a movement aimed at helping the physically disabled, largely inspired and organized through their own efforts!
All these groups (let’s not forget the Flower Power Children of the Counter-Culture) mixed freely on many occasions, both political and social. Yet within the Panther Party leadership there remained a strong current of thinking which emphasized that Black people needed to control every aspect of their lives and that “whites” were always the enemy who needed to be fought at every turn.
In retrospect, it became one of a number of floundering positions but a point of view that some of the Panthers were willing to live with–and die for–if need be. Newton himself at times failed to grasp that the Party leadership needed to be more agile and flexible than headline-grabbing actions alone would provide; he did not see the time coming when the Panthers would peak and have nowhere to turn—they were making enemies faster than they were gaining new recruits.
He underestimated the threat from within, both organizationally and personally. Factionalism, the attrition of struggles due to violent confrontations with the police, FBI harassment, and the failure of Panther leaders, including Newton, to control their own lifestyle excesses—would all combine to weaken the Party from within as well as from without. He was losing the larger battle even when he thought he was winning.
Yet it was not Huey’s ambitions or vices that worried society’s power brokers, or even his excessive Black Pride, if we may call it that; it was his ability to inspire others to stand up and demand change—that is what they feared the most.
He was unafraid of them and their mighty police power; this lack of fear helped motivate countless others to stand up. Thousands of Black youth insisted on being given a full and meaningful equality that was becoming to young men and women of dignity.
“BLACK IS BEAUTIFUL” was but one small part of this far grander struggle to achieve true social equality. Newton wanted the rights promised to him at birth as an American citizen, as Dr. King had once framed the matter.
Newton’s impatience, his willingness to provoke, his readiness to fight the police and slam white racists came forth naturally from him—he could not be anybody else, or anything less, and still be true to his belief in human freedom and human dignity.
Last Thoughts
Others may weep for Huey Newton but do not ask for tears from me—not today, not tomorrow. I don’t believe he would have wanted that or been much impressed by a display of watery tears. Tears invariably are always “after the fact” and the cessation of a person’s life, whereas he wanted people to organize and fight.
If he inspired anyone, if he wished to be remembered in any manner, he would have preferred to know that not tears but fighting words and deeds were his remembrance. He would have wanted others to take the kinds of action needed so that all the racist tragedies–accompanied by other streams of tears–could be stopped once and for all.
Maybe someday, a day still in the future, I will weep for him and the humanity that was in him—and which at the same time represents the humanity in all of us.
His was the voice and his was the courage—but the gulf between him and less braver souls was not as great as some would imagine. We all have desires, hopes, dreams, and ambitions to live in a better world someday—something we share in common with him.
I believe Huey Newton would want us to draw sustenance from his life and his character, and yes, to learn from his mistakes and even his foolish ways. Not for our own selfish purposes alone but in order that we might find new ways to better organize our talents to serve the people.
For me, this has always meant a purpose that goes beyond race—as it was often so for Newton, some of his more militant eye-brow raising pronouncements notwithstanding.
He was a Humanist, a champion of Humanity, in every sense.
No, I don’t believe I will weep for him today—but I do believe I will miss him greatly, Lo! For all these many, many long hard years yet to come.
“Good night, sweet Prince—may flight of angels
Take thee to thy eternal rest!”
Afterword: Rest in Peace
Is there nothing else anyone can say to mourn the passing of this man? Can the press not acknowledge that Huey Newton moved thousands of people to fight for their rights and moved the hearts of tens of thousands more? Did he not cause people to examine their own troubled thoughts over the matter of racial justice in America?
Did he not stir awake in the hearts of many a deeper sense of compassion? Did he not invite us to reaffirm our commitment to equality? Did he not show us that racism was more deeply entrenched than we imagined, a legacy of slavery and segregation?
Did he not prove that a very great effort would be required from everyone before society could ever hope to overcome its racist past?
Did he not show us there was a pressing need, an urgent need, to solve the baffling crises of race relations before the nightmare worsened? When has any other race in America ever suffered nearly as much as what black people have endured?
It is not enough to simply note Huey Newton’s passing with a few kind charitable words as a note of grace.
Even a genuine outpouring of grief is not enough—tears are transient visitors and will in time pass. If nothing more occurs than kind words and tears, we will have missed the essence of Newton. We will be forced to admit, then, that we have not yet found ways to come to terms with who he was as a Black Panther Party leader. To recognize and honor his contributions to the struggle, it is necessary to say something more—much more.
If American society is to advance and prosper, it needs to get over its fright caused by the Panthers. Instead of fearing Newton, it needs to acknowledge the country would benefit from more leaders like him: earnest, dedicated, courageous, and unflinching in the face of opposition. We need leaders who stand on principle with a strong conscience that helps define their purpose and directs the flowering of their lives.
If America is to remain a strong and vibrant country, a role model for other nations, it needs to tackle its racial injustices head on and with an iron will to solve them. America should not be proud for “tolerating” a single man, a leader like Huey Newton; it should feel proud when it actively encourages thousands of young people to show the same kind of bravery and determination that Huey Newton displayed.
America should be proud when it brings forward on the stage a thousand more young men and women with the courage and passion of a man like Huey Newton! Then maybe, just maybe, one day we can all get together and recite—understanding its meaning anew—the words of Thomas Jefferson as they were meant to be read and understood:
“We hold these Truths to be self-evident, that all Men are created equal . . .”
That day is yet to come . . . but that day and only that day will serve as the great “Amen” to Huey Newton’s life!
I hear you, Brother; rest ye well now, Huey,
while others carry on the work of your people’s
liberation and of America’s redemption.
We shall not fail!
Huey P. Newton
Feb. 17, 1942 – Aug. 22, 1989
