Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: WEDNESDAY, January 29, 1992 TAG: 9201290316
SECTION: EDITORIAL PAGE: A-12 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE:
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
MAYOR TAYLOR A MAKER OF HISTORY
WHEN Noel Taylor moved to Roanoke in 1961 to assume the pastorate of High Street Baptist Church, any idea that he'd become the city's most durable and popular politician would have seemed ludicrous.But he did - and his decision, announced Tuesday, not to seek an unprecedented fifth term as mayor will leave a void.
Taylor contributed to local political history in part because he is black. By that reason alone, a future in politics would have been unimaginable 30 years ago. In 1961, restaurants and other public accommodations in Roanoke still were segregated. Black passengers still had to move to the back of city buses. City Council had never had a black member.
During the first phase of the civil-rights movement, leadership within the black community tended to come from the church. Roanoke was no different: As pastor of one of the city's major black congregations, Taylor often found himself in the '60s acting as leader and spokesman for the peaceful end to Jim Crow. In that role, he became known to the wider public.
In 1970, city Democrats said it wasn't yet time to put a black candidate on their ticket. But the GOP - in Western Virginia, more the party of Lincoln than the backlash Democrats-turned-Republicans elsewhere in the state and the South - thought otherwise. Taylor, not affiliated with a party until then, ran on the GOP ticket and won a council seat.
More racial history was made in 1975 and 1976. Taylor, having in 1974 led the field, was vice mayor when then-Mayor Roy Webber died in 1975. Stepping up to fill Webber's unexpired term, Taylor became the city's first black mayor. In 1976, by narrowly winning a multicandidate race, he became its first directly elected black mayor.
From the first, however, Taylor made it clear that he was a mayor who was black rather than a black mayor. And therein lies a second, related contribution to the city's history: Taylor's ability to span the racial divide.
On the one hand, he continued to push for fair housing and affirmative action, and won the consistent support of black voters. On the other, he was a firm part of the business-oriented progressive coalition that brought former City Manager Bern Ewert and (indirectly) Superintendent Frank Tota to Roanoke, reversed downtown's declining fortunes, and stressed the urgency of economic development.
That coalition eventually lost its majority, but Taylor never lost his: From 1980 on, he sailed to re-election every four years, even as the city otherwise became a Democratic bastion.
So came a third contribution to Roanoke's political history: Taylor as the patient conciliator, the behind-the-scenes negotiator, the man who tempered the excesses of the mid-'80s populist reaction to the flurry of progressive action of the preceding years. Racial issues had moved to the background; the mediation now was of conflict between competing visions of what Roanoke's future should be and how best it could be attained.
The latter conflict, while often stressful, is nevertheless healthier than racial division. Yet as Taylor moves toward retirement, it is evident that the black-white issues that first drew him into the spotlight in the '60s have not vanished entirely.
In housing, Roanoke is still mostly segregated. Even as magnet programs work to discourage resegregated schools, the city must deal with increasing numbers of children in poverty, a problem of which race is one (though not the only) component. The past year witnessed the surfacing of racial mistrust regarding the Police Department, particularly among younger blacks.
In many respects, today's race-related problems are knottier than those of the '60s. They tend to be more ambiguous, their answers less clear-cut. Tough economic times give social problems a harder edge, and the federal government isn't much of a leader these days in finding solutions.
At the same time, though, Taylor's career stands as a hopeful sign that things can change, and for the better. He was a savvy politician, savvier than sometimes given credit for. But if there's been a single key to his durable popularity among Roanokers of all descriptions, it may be the obvious affection he holds for the city. That may sound corny, but a lot of political careers have been built on a lot worse.