A Mayor Learning On the Job

When Maynard Jackson took office as mayor of Atlanta last year, it was familiarly known as "the city too busy to hate." That is still largely true, but blacks and whites are not getting along as well as they used to, and Jackson, the first black mayor ever elected in the city, is being blamed.

A jovial 300-pounder with a gift for the grandiloquent phrase so esteemed in the South, Jackson, 37, appeared to have the qualities to keep Atlanta growing and prospering in harmony. But he has had a falling out with some portions of the Atlanta establishment--a group of civic-minded businessmen whose power has waned over recent years. The Atlanta Constitution, long known for its moderate liberalism on race, recently ran a seven-part all-out attack on the mayor. And some whites feel that he has now firmly tilted toward the city's black constituency. "In the white community, they think he is a black mayor for the black community," says Architect-Developer John Portman, a Jackson supporter. "He's perceived as taking every issue and turning it into a race issue. His biggest problem right now is raising white confidence. He has absolutely none."

Tactical Blunders. Jackson's troubles are not all of his own making. The urban crisis has finally overtaken Atlanta. Poor blacks and whites have streamed in from the countryside, and more affluent whites have fled to the suburbs. Schools are deteriorating and crime is increasing. With blacks now making up 55% of the population, Jackson has understandably shifted some power in their direction. He has brought community groups into bargaining sessions and increased city purchases from black businesses.

But he has also made his share of tactical blunders. "Maynard's forte is clearly not bureaucratic management," admits David Franklin, a lawyer who advises him. Last year Jackson pledged not to increase property taxes. More recently he decided that if he could not raise more revenue, "there won't be enough money to fill the potholes in the streets." With no advance warning, he came out in favor of a stiff 15% increase in the property tax. When the city council cut his request by half, he exploded in anger, calling the vote a "victory for the rich against the poor." Complained a white businessman: "Here we're trying like hell to get confidence and trust going both ways, and he does a thing like that. People don't know who the real Jackson is."

Causing more controversy than taxes is the struggle over the largely white police force. Jackson made a pledge to bring the men in blue under his control. But when he tried to fire Police Chief John Inman, he was balked. In-man successfully sought an injunction preventing his removal until the courts decided whether Jackson had the constitutional right under a new city charter to oust him. Three months later, the state supreme court upheld the mayor, but by then Inman had become too entrenched a figure to be removed. Instead, Jackson made an appointment to a new charter-created post above police chief--commissioner of public safety. He chose an old college chum, Reginald Eaves, a black who had served as Boston's penal commissioner.

Eaves became more of a headache than Inman. When the "superchiefs" 20-year-old nephew landed a job under the federal public service employment program, he confided how he did it: "My uncle told me who to see at city hall." The man Eaves picked as his personal secretary turned out to have a long police record. Eaves explained that he had hired the secretary to help rehabilitate him. But Jackson was unsympathetic: "I was surprised, to say the least." Both the nephew and the secretary lost their jobs. Jackson did not criticize Eaves in public; he credited his superchief with holding the rate of increase in serious crime to 7.9%--less than half the national average. Nevertheless, he has made up his mind to fire Eaves.

Jackson's manner sometimes troubles blacks as well as whites. Says City Councilman James Bond, brother of State Senator Julian Bond: "It's not that he's made bad decisions; it's just that he's made them without consulting anybody." Many of Jackson's setbacks can be attributed to inexperience, and there are signs that he is learning on the job. He mediated adroitly between blacks and whites to win acceptance of an integrated housing project near downtown Atlanta. "He knew how to make himself a scapegoat for everybody," says Carl Basnett, an attorney who participated in the negotiations.

Singing Praises. In response to criticism from the business community, Jackson has made a series of out-of-state trips with the president of the Atlanta Chamber of Commerce to try to attract new firms to the city. Last week the pair were in Paris singing the praises of their biracial home town. Jackson has also reacted diplomatically to what promises to be the most explosive issue in the near future: whether to incorporate adjacent communities into the city of Atlanta. Such a move would increase the city's tax base, but it would also dilute black voting strength since the new areas would be mainly white. Jackson has indicated that he would support consolidation on "terms that I can sell to the black community"--meaning not reducing the black vote to less than 45%. For all his missteps so far, the mayor remains determined to keep Atlanta too busy to hate.

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