The Changing 'Atmosphere' of Private and Public Places

Anne via NBC Philadelphia:

Pa Senator Arlen Spector is looking into accusations that 65 mostly African American kids from the Northeast Philadelphia Creative Steps Day Camp were banned from swimming at The Valley Swim Club because the would "change the complexion" and "atmosphere" of the club. Those words came from swim club president John Duesler.

The staff at Girard College, a private Philadelphia boarding for low-income and single parent homes, has offered their pool to the group.

"We had to help," said Girard College director of Admissions Tamara Leclair. "Every child deserves an incredible summer camp experience."

I agree with Specter that these allegations are extremely disturbing, especially the comment about changing the complexion of the pool. That's astonishing to read in today's America.

I'm in a bit of a quandry, writing this post. Yesterday I challenged WaPo's Robin Givhan for not 'telling it like it is', and this moment I find myself in a similar quagmire.

Do I say nothing, or do I share with you the thoughts going through my mind? Perhaps in sharing my experience, I will reveal my own prejudices, so I willingly make myself a guinea pig this morning.

Let me begin by reaffirming my TOTAL agreement that the events surrounding the swimming pool incident are despicable, if true.

In pausing over the phrase "change the atmosphere' of the swimming experience, I reflected on a recent Sunday afternoon in Manhattan Beach in New York.

I have a good friend in Brooklyn who's not in the Hamptons crowd. He took me to Manhattan Beach, north of Coney Island a month ago. P chose it because it's secluded and quiet, not like the dynamic and boisterous climate in Coney Island.

When we arrived, the beach was well populated, but solo sun bathers, friends and families, and couples, had plenty of space to enjoy the sunny afternoon, relatively independently of each other.

There was one last unoccupied sand space, 20' from my friend and me -- a spot maybe 20' x 30' of gorgeous sand. A group of teenage or young adult, well-dressed African Americans arrived to claim the spot.

The mood did change immediately, not because they were African American, but because the atmosphere went from quiet music or none (I heard none) to very loud, rap. The f-word rang loud and clear over Manhattan beach -- actually about 100 times in five minutes.

Believe it or not, I like rap music, although this was not my mood at the beach. And I don't like the f-word used repeatedly with no language meaning attached.

My friend and I were fine with the change -- it wasn't our preference, but hey, it's a free country. I enjoyed watching the group -- the girls all wore dresses and looked really pretty. It seemed most were 'attached' couples, good friends enjoying a great day at the beach.

Accepting the music was not a problem for me, although I didn't like it. Then the ball throwing began.

Now I don't know if you've ever watched football, but lots of times the ball goes too high, or too far afield. This is what happend in short order.

Soon, everyone 20-30' from the perimeter of the 20'x30' spot was involved in the football game. We are not talking a small amount of space here. This group of ten people needed the space occupied by perhaps 30 more people, lying on the sand, for their activities.

In minutes, the ball crashed into the middle of a three-generations of a Jewish family, enjoying the fresh air and a very late lunch. The ball hit the little girl, and the grandfather nicely asked the kids to be careful.

Nothing changed.

Moving back slightly, the football game now involved people stretched out in another direction. My friend -- who is as radically liberal as they come -- was trying to ignore events, sunning on his stomach. I, too, lay down with my eyes closed, trying to tune out the football game and enjoy the sun.

Our day at the beach was under assault.

Bam! This time not only the football crashed into us, but a live body. One of the young men fell onto my friend -- body to body, hitting him squarely in the head.

Let me clear, that he jumped up and said 'I'm sorry'.

I contained my irritation, not wanting to start a row. But I said: 'Sorry? You guys have taken over the whole beach. We've all involved with your game now. Can't you choose another game?"

The answer was 'no'. The game continued with the ball going in the middle of yet another picnic at Manhattan Beach. Enough! My friend was thoroughly pissed, and we packed up our things and left, conceding the beach to the African American teens.

Let me clear that I undertand that young Italians or Episcopalians or Jews could have put us through the same experience. I've not returned to Manhattan Beach since. My experience was as much about youth and the total disregard for each other in American society, as the subject of 'atmosphere' related to race.

I draw no conclusions about my day, except that I recently left Manhattan Beach, because a group of young (in this case) African American teens required the whole beach for their pleasure. My friend and I deserved none, except as fodder for falling on.

I'm comfortable with myself that I didn't have a racist reaction to the experience. But I do agree that any of us -- of any age or skin color -- can, and do,  change the 'atmosphere' of another person's quality of life experience on a daily basis.

On my day, the tables were turned from the Philadelphia incident. Was the intent all that different? Actually, I don't think it was. We all boors with each other, and I see no change in sight. Anne