by Thomas Healy
As for the design, McKissick left that to Evelyn. She had seen a house she liked in the newspaper, and the architects used that as the model. It was large, but not ostentatious. From the front, it looked like a California ranch, with double front doors, dark brown siding, and two stone chimneys. But it was built on a slope, so the rear of the house was two stories high. The decor was contemporary—parquet floors, shag carpeting, plaid upholstery—and there were several architectural touches, including a sunken living room and an interior courtyard surrounded by glass. In rural Warren County, where most homes were either shacks, trailers, or crumbling mansions, the McKissick home stood out. But in any middle-class suburb it would have seemed unremarkable.
McKissick wasn’t the only one eager to build a house. Jane Groom had been waiting for this moment, too. The last few years not been easy for her. After struggling to make their marriage work, she and Jimmy finally separated. At one point, Groom and her children left Soul City, moving first to an apartment in Durham, then to Norlina. She continued to work in Soul City, however, and when construction began on Green Duke Village she was one of the first staff members to build a house. Unlike the McKissick home, hers was relatively small and modest, with three bedrooms, one and a half baths, and an eat-in kitchen. But it was the first house she had ever owned, and when she and her children finally moved in she felt as though a dream had been fulfilled.
McKissick watches as a bulldozer clears land for a boulevard in Soul City.
As construction progressed, Soul City began to glow—literally. Work crews erected streetlights every twenty-five feet along Soul City Boulevard and Liberation Road. For those approaching the town at night, it was a surreal sight. Driving along US 1 in the dark, they would suddenly see a bright halo in the sky. Residents joked that it looked like a scene out of Brigadoon, the Gene Kelly movie in which two hunters lost in the Scottish mist come upon an enchanted village that appears once every hundred years. But there was an important difference between Brigadoon and Soul City. Brigadoon was untouched by the modern world, whereas Soul City was a beacon of modernity amid the decaying estates of Warren County.
The benefits of Soul City’s development were felt beyond its limits. After sharp population declines in the 1950s and 1960s, Warren County grew modestly during the 1970s, with the population increasing 3 percent. In addition, for the first time since Reconstruction, more Black people moved into the state than out. And some of them, such as David Carolina, came because of Soul City. “It’s a pioneer city,” said Carolina, who returned to the South from Newark and bought a house in Green Duke Village. “Just like the beginning of the whole doggone country.”
For the hundred or so residents of Soul City life was good. On the Fourth of July, the town threw a massive Bicentennial celebration. That fall, it hosted the Miss Soul City pageant (won by Sandra Groom). And at Christmas, there was a holiday parade with more than fifty floats and automobiles. The mood was summed up by Carey’s stepdaughter Kristina Renee Wilken, who published a poem in the Soul City Sounder titled “Good Place to Live”:
I’ve lived in Soul City since I was seven;
Floyd McKissick, I’m sure, will go to heaven.
He founded Soul City and gave it a name
The President could not have done the same.
Soul City’s for everyone, dark or light hue
You’ve heard it, I know it, you’ll have your chance too.
The future Soul City is going to be bright
For folks who have not yet seen the light.
* * *
WHILE SOUL CITY forged ahead, the rest of the New Communities program was stuck in neutral. HUD’s decision to stop accepting applications and focus on existing projects had not had the desired effect. The towns that had been struggling two years earlier were in no better shape, while most of the remaining towns were now in distress. In all, six of the thirteen projects were broke, obliging HUD to pay the interest on their bonds. Another five had money in the bank but didn’t want to empty their reserves, so HUD paid their interest, too. The program’s troubles were due largely to the recession of the early seventies, the effects of which continued to linger in the real estate industry. But mismanagement and local opposition had also played a role. Cedar-Riverside, a new community near downtown Minneapolis, had been stalled for three years because of a lawsuit over environmental concerns. Meanwhile, it was becoming clear that not all developers had the fortitude to stick with a project for the twenty or thirty years required for completion. Several were already in talks to sell their assets or transfer management to other firms.
The New Communities board had a decision to make. It could continue to support all thirteen towns and risk a catastrophic failure, or it could cut its losses. With political support for the program waning, the choice was easy. At a meeting in June 1976, the board instructed HUD staff to identify which projects were hopeless and which might still be salvaged. Although it stopped short of saying so, the implication was clear: projects in the former category would be abandoned, while those in the latter group would be given another chance.
Soul City was one of the few new towns not in immediate financial trouble, so McKissick wasn’t worried about being shut down. But he had other grievances with HUD. The money raised from the sale of the first $5 million in bonds had been placed in an escrow account that could only be accessed with agency approval, and getting that approval was arduous. On one occasion, HUD demanded McKissick write a check for $1.10 before photocopying documents he needed. McKissick grew so frustrated with this nickel-and-diming that he threatened to sue the agency for violating the project agreement.
McKissick was also fighting with HUD to release an additional $5 million in bonds. Under the project agreement, release of the bonds was conditioned upon the creation of three hundred jobs, the development of key infrastructure, and the acquisition of additional land. With his recent industrial commitments, completion of the water system, and the purchase of a 1,400-acre tract adjacent to the Circle P Ranch, McKissick believed he had met those benchmarks. But at the very moment he submitted his request, Soul City became embroiled in an intraparty political dispute.
It began with Ronald Reagan’s announcement that he would challenge Gerald Ford in the Republican presidential primary. That announcement threw the GOP into disarray, creating a rift between the traditional, moderate wing of the party and the insurgent conservative wing. In North Carolina, these two factions were represented by Governor Holshouser and Senator Helms, respectively. Holshouser, who was seen as a rising star by the moderates, came out strongly in favor of the incumbent. He believed the party had to broaden its appeal and unite behind a mainstream candidate. He also believed Reagan’s challenge was hurting Ford’s chances in the general election. His mistake was publicly saying so. Joining with nine other Republican governors, Holshouser issued a statement urging Reagan to quit the race for the good of the party. Instead of bringing the factions together, that move only deepened the rift, with Reagan making clear he had no intention of taking advice from Ford’s supporters. And although Holshouser tried to delicately walk back the statement, he had made himself a target for Helms and the other insurgents.
The Republican primary in North Carolina thus became a referendum on Holshouser. Using money from the National Congressional Club, a powerful fundraising organization Helms had established three years earlier, the insurgents launched a vicious attack on the governor, disparaging his record and questioning his integrity. The main weapon in their arsenal was Holshouser’s support of Soul City. The club mailed flyers to North Carolina Republicans reminding them of Holshouser’s speech at the groundbreaking and suggesting that McKissick was pulling the governor’s strings. It also produced radio ads alleging a backroom deal between the NAACP and Ford to make Edward Brooke his running mate. Brooke, of course, was Soul City’s strongest supporter in the Senate. And there was in fact an effort to get him on the ticket; McKissick had even circulated a petition to that effect. But t
here was no backroom deal, and Ford ultimately chose Bob Dole instead.
Nonetheless, the campaign against Holshouser and Soul City was successful. After losing the four preceding state primaries, Reagan beat Ford handily in North Carolina. His victory didn’t change the outcome of the primary—Ford ultimately prevailed in a contested convention—but it did resuscitate Reagan’s image, helping propel him to the nomination four years later. It also established Helms as someone not to be crossed, a point driven home when he helped deny Holshouser a seat at the party’s national convention that summer. Thus, when the New Communities board met in October, it deferred a vote on McKissick’s request for additional bonds out of fear of drawing the senator’s wrath. As explained in a memo written by James Dausch, the latest head of the New Communities Administration, the goal was to “put off the decision until after the November election, thereby avoiding perhaps (although I am not sure to what extent) the vigorous, adverse reaction from Senator Helms and the Raleigh News & Observer.”
A brochure depicting what life would be like in Soul City.
As it turned out, Ford lost the election to Jimmy Carter, meaning the board, made up of political appointees, would soon be replaced anyway. So with nothing to lose, board members voted on December 1 to release an additional $5 million in bonds to Soul City and to give the project preferential treatment in light of its experimental nature and social objectives. A few days later, the US Public Health Service announced that it would fund the increasingly busy HealthCo for another year.
As expected, those moves were blasted by Soul City’s critics. In an editorial titled “Soul City Hits Taxpayers Again,” the N&O argued that HUD’s new “handouts” were further evidence that Soul City was “a wizard at shaking undeserved money out of the U.S. Government.” McKissick, determined to let HUD know that Helms and the N&O didn’t speak for everyone, organized a letter-writing campaign commending the board for its decision. Over the next few weeks, HUD received more than two dozen letters from a cross section of Soul City supporters, including the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, the chancellor of North Carolina Central University (formerly named North Carolina College), Holshouser’s office, and local residents and officials. Linda Nesbitt, of New York, applauded HUD “for not succumbing to the pressures which a few narrow-minded racists have generated with their lies and innuendoes.” Mary Richardson, of Warrenton, condemned the attacks on Soul City as “unwarranted.” And Melvin Holmes, the city manager of Henderson, praised McKissick and his staff for their dedication to improving living conditions for the entire area. “I am sure you are receiving letters in opposition to the development of the project,” he wrote to HUD secretary Carla Hills. “However, those of us who are interested in seeing our community made a better place to live, rejoice in your decision to continue supporting the development of Soul City.”
• 18 •
Pride or Prejudice
The election of Jimmy Carter should have been good news for Soul City. In the two years since Nixon’s resignation, the Ford administration had done little to aid the new communities program or address the larger urban crisis. And with the conservative wing of the Republican Party on the rise, it was unlikely a second Ford term would have been any different. Carter was no liberal on issues of race and economics; he had run as a centrist who disavowed the “tax and spend” policies of his Democratic predecessors. But he had also pledged to reduce poverty, improve health care, and increase jobs, a promise that won him the endorsement of many Black leaders, including Representative Andrew Young and Martin Luther King Sr. And once in office, he appointed more Black officials to high-level positions than any prior president. All of which made McKissick and his staff optimistic that Carter’s presidency would benefit Soul City.
It didn’t work out that way. For one thing, McKissick had supported Ford in the election, donating money to the campaign, attending a meeting of prominent Black Republicans, and papering the offices of the Soul City Company with Ford posters. And although he had not been as visible as he was during the 1972 election, when he traveled the country stumping for Nixon, he was still a registered Republican, which meant he didn’t have much influence with a Democratic administration.
Then there were Carter’s policies. When the new president took office, his primary concern was inflation. Prices had been on the rise throughout 1976, and with some economists predicting a double-dip recession, both candidates pledged to keep federal spending in check. Thus, a few months after taking office, Carter announced that he would initiate no new social welfare, health care, or educational programs. Instead, his national urban policy would promote economic development through existing loan programs and interest subsidies.
Soul City was also hampered by the turnover of staff and political appointees from one administration to the next. In the eight years since he had launched Soul City, McKissick had already seen three different HUD secretaries and four different directors of the New Communities Administration. Now, just as he was getting comfortable with Carla Hills and James Dausch, they were replaced by two new appointees. For secretary of HUD, Carter chose Patricia Harris, the first Black woman nominated to a cabinet position. A graduate of Howard University and George Washington Law School, Harris had a sterling résumé, having worked at the Justice Department, served as the US ambassador to Luxembourg, and been dean of Howard Law School. For the past seven years, she had been a member of Fried, Frank, Harris, Shriver, and Jacobson, one of the country’s most prestigious law firms.
Still, some were skeptical of Harris’s suitability for the post. When she appeared before the Senate banking committee for her confirmation hearing in January 1977, Wisconsin Democrat William Proxmire announced that he was troubled by her nomination. HUD was “in a shambles,” he declared, its morale “low” and its accomplishments “pitifully inadequate.” Ten years earlier, he reminded her, Congress had approved a plan to construct six million low-income homes over the next decade. But after a promising start, HUD had fallen far short of the goal. And to Proxmire, the reason was clear: instead of appointing administrators with experience in housing, Nixon and Ford had appointed “scholarly lawyers” such as Harris to lead the agency. Proxmire did not doubt Harris’s intelligence or character, and he acknowledged she was likely to be confirmed easily. But he questioned her priorities and her knowledge of the country’s housing crisis. Just a few months earlier, he noted, she had called for an abandonment of public housing projects, arguing that they should be replaced with government housing vouchers to individuals. That was not the attitude HUD needed in a secretary, Proxmire declared. It needed “someone sympathetic to the problems of the poor.”
Harris defended herself, pointing out that she was the daughter of a dining-car worker and just eight years earlier would have been unable to buy a house in the nicer parts of Washington, DC. “I started, Senator, not as a lawyer in a prestigious law firm, but as a woman who needed a scholarship to go to college,” she told Proxmire. “If you think that I have forgotten that, you’re wrong.”
While Proxmire questioned Harris’s experience and empathy, Jesse Helms tried to poison the well for Soul City. After asking the nominee whether she was familiar with its history, he asserted that “citizens and leaders of all political parties and philosophies have strongly criticized this project.” He also cited the GAO audit, claiming it had found “numerous irregularities, including nepotism, interlocking directorships, many HUD deviations from its own rules and regulations, improper loans, improper expenses, and an average of approximately 25 percent of transactions not meeting the test for allowability.” In light of these findings, he asked if Harris would agree to conduct a personal reevaluation of Soul City “for the purpose of objectively determining whether the project should be abandoned, or made subject to radical revision, or at a very minimum curtailing the abuses noted in the GAO report.”
Harris responded coolly that she had no “preconceived notions” about Soul City or any other new town, but w
ould certainly fulfill her duty to monitor the program. Edward Brooke was less restrained. Speaking out of turn, he quickly corrected Helms’s characterization of the GAO audit. “The Senator and I debated this on the floor,” he reminded Helms. “We spent several hours on it at least but I understand that the GAO has made a report which exonerated them of all charges. Now there may have been some criticisms. I trust in your review that we’re talking about the same report when you’re asking the Secretary to review it. I think there’s only one GAO report.”
Helms: “Well, I have seen only one, and it certainly was anything but an ‘exoneration.’ I have already stated the findings of the GAO audit, and I stated them accurately.”
Brooke: “Well, I say to the able Senator from North Carolina, if we read the same report we read it differently, but anyway we’ll be very glad to have your review of it.”
Helms: “In any case, Mrs. Harris, will you keep both Senator Brooke and me advised?”
Harris: “Yes.”
From there, the senators moved on to other topics, with a young Joe Biden asking Harris about the role of the housing industry in the economic recovery. But the colloquy between Helms and Brooke lingered over the hearing, making clear to the incoming secretary just how politically contentious Soul City had become.
* * *
PROXMIRE WAS RIGHT: Harris was confirmed quickly and easily in late January. But the rest of the HUD bureaucracy turned over more slowly. It wasn’t until April that William J. White, a Boston real estate executive, was confirmed as director of the New Communities Administration. And it wasn’t until October that the new board of directors met for the first time. In the meantime, McKissick was left in limbo, unable to obtain approval for key decisions.