TIME: Almanac 1990/1990 Time Magazine Compact Almanac, The (1991)(Time).iso/time/011689/01168900.039

Text File | 1990-09-17 | 5.2 KB | 94 lines

NATION, Page 27

A Capital Offense

Barry's travails are just one woe for the "other Washington"


    This is a tale of two cities that occupy one place but exist
in two different worlds. One is Washington, the nation's capital,
an enclave of sparkling white marble monuments and Government
offices. The other is the District of Columbia, an overwhelmingly
black city of 629,000, with an appalling crime rate, disintegrating
schools and declining municipal services. That other Washington
rarely steals the spotlight from the official one, but the scandal
surrounding Mayor Marion S. Barry Jr. these days has focused
belated attention on its mounting travails.

    The beam shines mainly on the mayor. Police and federal
prosecutors are investigating the latest in a string of
embarrassing episodes involving women and drugs that has plagued
Barry during his three terms. Three weeks ago, detectives looking
into allegations that former District employee Charles Lewis was
selling drugs from his room in a downtown hotel were about to
attempt an undercover drug purchase, but they abruptly departed
after being informed that the mayor was visiting the suspect.  A
subsequent search by police of Lewis' room, which was billed to the
credit card of a Barry aide, revealed traces of cocaine, though
investigators could not determine how long the drugs had been
there.

    After news of the aborted bust leaked to the press, Barry held
a series of self-pitying press conferences, blaming the press and
political opponents for his problems. "There are lingering
questions I'll never be able to convince a lot of people of," Barry
said with a shrug. "They don't understand my complex, I suppose,
personality." He added to the confusion by first offering to take
a drug test "if it will help matters," then waffling on the offer.

    To add to Barry's woes, a federal grand jury and the Department
of the Interior, which oversees the affairs of the U.S. Virgin
Islands, are sifting records of a $250,000 project in which Barry
and other District employees were to provide the islands with
personnel policy advice.  Much of the money seems to have gone for
luxury hotel rooms and meals. The manager of the project, until he
was fired for suspected misuse of funds: Charles Lewis.

    Barry is an unlikely choice as a personnel expert. Eleven of
his former aides have gone to the slammer for various crimes,
including stealing city funds. A dozen more have departed under a
cloud. The District's municipal work force of 47,000 is among the
nation's most oversize and inefficient. Its most egregious
shortcoming is the shoddy service it provides to poor and
working-class blacks, who constitute Barry's most solid base of
political support.

    Life in the other Washington has been getting tougher. Last
summer Barry had to resolve a city ambulance crisis after several
people died because poorly trained drivers got lost on the way to
rescues. With a record 372 homicides last year, Washington has the
nation's third highest murder rate. More than half the killings
were related to the large quantities of drugs sold in some 200
street markets around town. Before declining slightly in 1987, the
city's infant-mortality rate reached a Third World level of 21
deaths per 1,000 live births, more than twice the national average.
Though its income and inheritance taxes are among the nation's
highest and though some 17% of its $2 billion budget is provided
by federal subsidy, the District faces a deficit this year of
around $175 million.

    Despite his regime's performance, Barry is still popular with
black voters. "People are quick to forget all that he's done for
us," says public-housing activist Kimi Gray. In racially divided
Washington, white residents of comfortable neighborhoods in the
city's northwest seldom stray into the areas where most black
citizens dwell. Many blacks believe that whites are following a
devious "plan" to regain political control of the District by
embarrassing black officials. The mayor has survived by playing on
that fear and, like any good political boss, distributing favors
to his constituents.

    Loyalty to Barry may be costing Washingtonians their
long-cherished dream of gaining voting representation in Congress
through a congressional amendment granting statehood to the
District. Says Mark Plotkin, a member of the city's Democratic
committee: "We ask members of Congress, `What about statehood?' and
they look at us and say, `What about the mayor?' "

    In 1978 Barry was elected to his first term with predominantly
white support. In the city's overwhelmingly white Ward 3, for
instance, he took 51% of the vote. That figure had dwindled to 15%
by his second re-election in 1986. The dismay seems to be spreading
across the city. In a recent Washington Post poll, 41% of the
respondents believed Barry was doing a poor job. Only 20% gave him
high marks. "Barry is his own worst enemy," says Lowell Duckett,
head of the D.C. Black Police Caucus. "Black leadership is going
to have to hold black elected officials accountable for their
actions." Especially if the other Washington is ever to begin
functioning effectively again.