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Chapter Four focuses on Atlanta’s rise as a global black city and the idea of black global citizenship through foreign and domestic policies as seen through U.S. Presidents, from John F. Kennedy to Jimmy Carter. When Andrew Young was elected as the city’s second black mayor during the 1980s, he inherited numerous social ills and a pernicious financial crisis. When President Ronald Reagan cut federal funding to American cities, Young found it necessary to fund and expand the city through foreign investments and neo-liberal forms of urban renewal and gentrification. Most of Atlanta’s black community saw a business-minded and globetrotting mayor promoting purported progress and the black Mecca image. Yet, Young had no plan to deal with issues pertinent to the poor as mayor and his “citizen of the world” persona was not a good look for Atlanta’s working class and poor black communities, as it seemed that he did not embody their interests. Young used his savior-faire and political influence to refashion a city worthy of hosting the 1988 Democratic National Convention and the Centennial Olympiad. The Democratic National Convention served as the dress rehearsal for the Centennial Olympiad and from this event it was clear that Atlanta was indeed a new city with the black Mecca image at its center, worthy of hosting events on the world’s stage. However, Atlanta’s overwhelmingly poor and black citizens did not share this vision of their city nor were they at the center of the commercial branding of the America South. The significance of this is that once again, the issue of class within the black community presents itself as more divisive than cohesive.

This chapter discusses the emergence of solidification and social stratification in Atlanta. When Maynard H. Jackson Jr. left the Atlanta mayoral seat after serving for two years as the south's first African American chief executive of a major city, he left a record of material and emotional achievements that made black Atlantans and indeed black Americans proud. He achieved at least a detente from his white constituents wherein in a number of cases he won their praise. However, despite his successes, several major problems remained. The city infrastructures still needed repairing; neighbourhood issues still cried for comprehensive solutions; economically marginalized populations, particularly blacks still wallowing in poverty and despair, needed help; and the city was still divided geographically and socially by race. After the elections of 1982, Jackson gave way to Andrew Young, a black politician who served Atlanta for two terms. While in office, Young tried to pursue a program for African American businesses, but in the end the program mostly benefited the few wherein the rich became richer. While he claimed he wanted to pursue housing programs for the marginalized blacks, Young seemed to be preoccupied with the development of upscale housing in downtown areas which promoted gentrification. While he pursued aggressive law enforcement, he had to deal with complaints by black residents of police brutality. When he softened the hands of the law, he was greeted by discord from the whites. When Young left office, there had been failures, both real and perceived, but he nonetheless left the office with high marks for his leadership in terms of economic growth, as an international ambassador for the city, and as a charismatic broker for Atlanta's delicate balance in race relations. In the 1988 poll this question was asked: Did Atlanta move forward under the leadership of Mayor Young? In answer 43 percent of white Atlantans said yes and 43 percent of black Atlantans said yes.

This chapter seeks to identify the assumptions and expectations that have historically surrounded African Americans in the United Nations, and determine whether they significantly affect or have affected African Americans in senior positions in the United Nations in the execution, interpretation, or evaluation of their responsibilities. The chapter focuses on the role of the ambassador, but it begins with Ralph Bunche, whose role as a “first” and whose breadth of responsibilities in the U.N.'s foundation helped define the parameters in which race is likely to pass between insignificance and prominence. Building on continuing issues exposed by Bunche's experience, the experiences of the three African American U.S. ambassadors to the U.N.—Andrew Young, Donald McHenry, and Susan Rice—can each be examined on the basis of similar issues.

This chapter captures the development of Westminster in the late 1950s and early 1960s. By the late 1950s, Westminster’s student body had quadrupled, and the school was housed on the current West Paces Ferry Road campus. School leaders prepared for the possible closing of Atlanta Public Schools as black Atlantans called for desegregation in the face of oppositional state policies. As the civil rights movement increased in momentum, Westminster and other local schools, including Lovett and Trinity, received inquiries into their admissions policies from interracial organizations such as the Greater Atlanta Council on Human Relations and leading civil rights activists including the Kings, Abernathys, and Youngs, and black families such as the Rosses. Private school leaders worked to find a balance among multiple contexts and influences, including the enlarged federal presence in education and increased questions about federal tax-exempt status for private schools. Concurrently, a school culture at Westminster developed in ways that continued to reflect the “Old South” and included racist traditions while some white students earnestly debated and discussed the issues of the day.

This chapter shows how Jimmy Carter was determined to reestablish the prestige of the United States in Africa, which was shattered by the Angolan fiasco. The appointment of civil rights leader Andrew Young as U.S. ambassador to the United Nations with cabinet rank—the first African American to be appointed to a senior foreign policy position in the U.S. government—was a symbol to Africans of the new administration's priorities. In no other region of the world did U.S. interests appear as threatened as in southern Africa. One of the first Presidential Review Memoranda of the new administration (PRM 4) was devoted to Rhodesia, Namibia, and South Africa. “Violent resistance by blacks against efforts by whites indefinitely to maintain their domination in Rhodesia, Namibia or South Africa,” it warned, “would increase the chances of increased Communist influence, major power confrontation in the area and a kind of involvement on our part which the American people do not want and do not support.”

This chapter discusses the meeting of UN ambassador Andrew Young and his deputy Donald McHenry with Angolan prime minister Lopo do Nascimento and foreign minister Paulo Jorge, who were in New York for the special UN session on disarmament. The Americans expressed their concerns—namely, the Katangan invasion of Zaire, the Cuban troops in Angola, and the negotiations on Namibia. The Angolans, in turn, expressed theirs: Zaire's support for the Angolan insurgents and, above all, the threat from South Africa. Young reported, “Nascimento said that everyone seemed to be complaining about the Cubans while ignoring the attacks of South Africa on Angola… . He said that attacks from the South Africans and indirectly from Zaire made it difficult for Angola to maintain non-alignment… . He expressed a desire for continuing communication with the U.S. There was a sense of helplessness about Nascimento.”

The resignation of U.N. Ambassador Andrew Young in August 1979 promoted the Village Voice to devote considerable space to the crisis in black-Jewish relations. In its August 26 issue the Voice published “Such Good Friends,” by Joel Dreyfuss, who reiterated and elaborated on black leaders’ criticism of the Jewish community. This chapter presents a response to Dreyfuss and other black critics, which was published a week later. The author claims that while fury of black people at Young’s departure reflects a decade or more of increasing tensions between blacks and Jews, what is perhaps less obvious is how much the entire incident reflects deteriorating relations between Jews and non-Jews generally.