As federal investigators continue to search for clues to the dozens of black-church burnings across the country, tiny Greenville is facing perhaps the most wrenching hunt of all. Most of its fires remain unsolved, though police recently charged a retarded 18-year-old black man with both church blazes. But it’s not just clapboard and sheetrock that are being destroyed. Like many towns of the New South, Greenville believed it had paved over the racial fissures that once divided its citizens. Whites hoped blacks had forgotten the sign that once spanned the city’s main street: GREENVILLE. THE BLACKEST SOIL. THE WHITEST PEOPLE. Blacks thought some integration meant whites had accepted them as equals. The fires have replaced those dreams by a disappointment and distrust that have darkened this old cotton-mill town with an ashy film. ““Neighbors are pointing at each other: blacks at blacks, blacks at whites, whites at blacks,’’ says Bill Glenn, an NAACP official and Greenville native. ““Paranoia is rampant.''
That’s probably because it was never buried very deep. The locals still talk about the white mob who burned a black man to death on the town square in 1908. When a sign hangs over your town proclaiming it home to the ““whitest people,’’ it’s hard to forget even ancient atrocities. No one is exactly sure when the town fathers removed the sign, though it was some time after it had been refitted with neon lights. But even after that, Greenville struggled to close its racist wounds. In the early 1980s, a white woman reported seeing a black man driving frequently to a local pond with out- of-state license plates. After circulating a photo labeled ROBBERY SUSPECT, police arrested Lenell Geter, an aerospace engineer who had recently moved to town. Even though Geter testified he visited the pond to ward off homesickness, he was convicted for a crime he didn’t commit. Only after ““60 Minutes’’ investigated was Geter freed. The cop who fingered him remains on the Greenville police force.
And it’s that same force that has become the focus of blacks’ fear as their part of the city burns building by building. The suspect in three of the fires is an African-American with an IQ of 53 named Mark Anthony Young. He confessed – with no lawyer present – to burning the churches and another building, but later recanted and pleaded innocent. Many blacks believe that the police – with only one African-American on the 35-man force – nabbed a black man to quash the notion that race is a factor in the fires. ““The authorities won’t pursue any white leads, no matter how legitimate,’’ Glenn says. In fact, police arrested two white men and a Hispanic in connection with the fire at the New Light House of Prayer church. They were released, even though the mother of one suspect says her son was smoking crack behind the church just before it burned. All of which makes some blacks halfheartedly wish for the days of the neon sign. ““That town was better than this town,’’ says Bill Glenn’s wife, Barbara. ““At least you knew what to expect. You knew.''
Many whites can’t understand why blacks talk like that. Greenville has clearly made some strides in recent years. Many black families have moved to the more prosperous part of town. The schools are fairly integrated. If there aren’t many African-Americans on the police force, says Mayor Sue Ann Harting, that’s because they haven’t applied. ““We advertise everywhere encouraging everyone humanly possible to take the police test,’’ she says. ““To blame that on the white community is completely wrong.’’ Harting believes that the fires are an anomaly that will prove to have nothing to do with race. ““When the dust settles, I think we’re going to see another young individual who is having some problems in their personal life, and this is a way for them to act out,’’ she says. In fact, the church fires have begun to bring the com- munity back together a bit. Corporations and individuals have contributed more than $350,000 to rebuild the sanctuaries. At the groundbreaking for the buildings two weeks ago, the audience was a multihued sea of faces who shared spicy barbecue and sweet talk for the future. The highlight came when Wanda Jeffery, whose father is pastor at the decimated New Light House church, sang ““Victory Is Mine.’’ The question is, can that sentiment survive the fire – next time.
