Some black ministers in New Orleans (Yes, I'm writing about New Orleans again, because it's the greatest collection of Flannery O'Connor stories since the death of Flannery O'Connor.) are upset that the White Man is pickin' on a pore brother, the incompetent and embattled district attorney, Eddie Jordan.They want the White Man to stop it, because it's racist. They're standing behind their Black Man, for he is Not White.
Meanwhile, New Orleans' young African-American men -- mostly -- still are being gunned down at a shocking rate, and on the odd chance the city's Keystone Cops catch the perps, there's an even odder chance that Jordan can prosecute them successfully. But that's not important now.
Getting outraged at whitey is. The Times-Picayune reported on this outbreak of unholy insanity Wednesday:
Orleans Parish District Attorney Eddie Jordan, called upon recently by a city councilwoman to resign, got a solid vote of confidence Tuesday from black ministers who said he has done an outstanding job with the resources of his office and is being unfairly blamed for the city's high murder rate.
The 13 ministers who gathered at a Central City church to voice their support of the DA belong to the Ideal Missionary Baptist Association, founded in 1937. Its membership consists of 30 pastors of Baptist churches across the city.
It was the Rev. Joseph C. Profit Sr., the association's president, who laid out the group's case for being in Jordan's corner.
For starters, Profit said, New Orleans' high murder rate is nothing new. It was also high in the years before Jordan became the first African-American DA in the city's history, he said.
But when Jordan's predecessors were in office, Profit said, "No one cried out for their resignation or threatened impeachment." The difference, he said, is that the former DA's were all white.
Jordan, who'd been seated with the ministers during their news conference at the Passing Onward Baptist Church, 2414 Danneel St., rose to thank them, calling them "integral spokesmen in their own right about the conditions in the city."
Say, for example, there is an old redneck farmer working his plot of vegetables one day, and that plot happens to lie within 100 yards or so of the railroad tracks. Now, the old man isn't exacty racist -- he doesn't think about black folk much one way or the other, but he's not exactly the most politically correct fella in the world, either.
Usually, this isn't a problem for him out in the sticks. He keeps to himself and, anyway, those he runs into are pretty much old rednecks like himself.
But on this day, as he's working his vegetable plot, the old farmer spies a young African-American man walking down the railroad tracks, oblivious to the world. And to the 5:30 freight barreling toward him a quarter-mile down the line.
The young guy's back is to the train. Like I said, he's oblivious to the rumbling. Oblivious to the blaring horn.
Startled, the redneck farmer starts running toward the young man on the tracks, at least as fast as a 77-year-old can run. He's yelling at the top of his lungs.
"Hey, boy! Get off the tracks! You're gonna get hit by the train! Boy! GET OFF THE TRACKS! Hey! BOY!"
THE YOUNG MAN snaps out of it, now fully alert. He glares at the old white man, his eyes flashing with pure fury.
The farmer is screaming as loudly as he can, still running toward what, to him, is a young boy about to get smushed by a train.
"BOY! GET OFF THE TRACKS! YOU"RE GONNA GET SMUSHED! RUN!!!"
The young man, his face contorted with rage, yells back at the old man as the train -- horn wailing, air brakes squealing -- bears down on his back.
"WHO YOU CALLIN' 'BOY,' MOTHERF. . . ."
The farmer, screaming, turns his head away at the instant of impact.
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