Eastman courthouse flies rebel flag

That fact is not lost on many black residents, who pass the flag each time they visit the courthouse to serve on a jury, pay taxes or even get a car tag.

When an attorney for the local chapter of the NAACP wrote commissioners last month asking that the county honor its 2002 vote, the board chose instead to “clarify” the issue, this time deciding the divisive flag could fly 365 days a year.

It’s a decision that’s brought national attention to the town 55 miles south of Macon.

The controversy pits against each other two seemingly intractable forces with familiar arguments about what the flag represents — heritage or hate, a symbol of heroism or segregation. NAACP leaders are now contemplating their next move, which could include a lawsuit, protests, even a boycott.

“This is public property; don’t impose it on individuals,” said John Battle, a retired military man and schoolteacher and current head of the local NAACP chapter.

“Look at the lynchings and beatings and how they used that flag as a scare tactic,” he said, standing by a century-old Confederate monument. This is 2011, we shouldn’t be at this point.”

A few feet away from Battle, Tump Evans sat in his pickup truck under a shade tree, eating a sandwich for lunch. He is not happy about Battle’s campaign.

“I never even heard of [the flag] until they started arguing about it,” said Evans, who is white. “The commissioners voted to keep it up. If [black residents] don’t like it, vote them out. Until then, they can go scratch.”

Noisy special interest groups have been having their way for too long, he said, pointing to prayer being taken out of public schools.

“It seems too many folks have rights these days,” Evans said.

Civil War markers and memorials have been flash points for years, even more so as the 150th anniversary of the conflict is upon us. Last month, the NAACP complained after a state historical marker commemorating the burning of Atlanta was unveiled on Martin Luther King Jr. Drive in Atlanta. And the Georgia chapter of the Sons of Confederate Veterans is suing the city of Ringgold for doing just what the NAACP wants the Dodge commission to do. In 2005, the city took down a Confederate flag that flew over a memorial at the train depot after receiving complaints from black residents. The suit has not gone to trial.

Last week in Eastman, Battle walked around the base of the monument, which was erected in 1910. A panel on one side states, “No nation rose so pure and white, none ever fell so spotless.”

He pointed to it and smiled. “That’s history from that time,” he said. “Let it stay.”

But the depth of local emotion on the flag issue has Battle almost apologetic when talking about his efforts.

“A lot of people don’t want to touch this. This is a small town. People have to live together,” he said. “We felt we could compromise, have them fly it one day a year. This is why we didn’t want [the publicity] to go outside the county. Dodge County has enough bad publicity.”

Sordid politics

Dodge County, named for a 19th century logging tycoon and home to almost 20,000 residents, is just one more rural community struggling to get by.

The downtown business district of Eastman, the county seat, hugs the railroad tracks, its nondescript buildings showing their age.

The town is the birthplace of Stuckey’s, the iconic roadside chain known for peddling pecan log rolls. The company was started by W.S. Stuckey Sr., who sold his wares on U.S. 23, once a main route for tourists headed to Florida.

But the chain withered over time and the candy factory — later sold to another company — closed two years ago, taking with it 250 jobs.

Though Stuckey’s stores are enjoying a recent rebound, the plant remains shuttered, sitting across the highway from an empty Chevrolet dealership.

The county once had a buffer from the economy in the form of Terry Coleman, the longtime Democratic state representative from Eastman who was able to shepherd projects to his region.

Coleman served as speaker of the Georgia House but was ushered out after just one term when Republicans took over in the 2004 election. By then, he was under heavy fire from many in his conservative base when he cast the tie-breaking vote in 2003 to kill a proposal that would have allowed the public to decide if the Confederate flag would remain on the state flag.

The county was the center of a political scandal in the late 1990s, with a federal investigation into wholesale vote-buying, one that was so widespread that it was among the largest election-fraud prosecutions in state history.

Twenty-seven residents pleaded guilty or were convicted in the scandal, including the then-sole county commissioner, his predecessor and the former sheriff.

Witnesses said political bosses carried bags stuffed with $20 bills and paid voters in their homes, outside polls and inside restrooms of the historic courthouse. Even the dead voted.

The widespread investigation into political corruption expanded after an Eastman accountant named Donald Purser, who was set to be a federal witness in a political corruption case, was shot to death in his home. The killing remains unsolved.

The scandals spurred residents to approve a referendum to replace the sole commissioner system of government with a five-member board.

Black residents, who make up 30 percent of the population, applauded the move as a way that would allow them a shot at voting in an African-American candidate.

No defacing

Having a black commissioner meant one thing in the recent Confederate flag vote — the tally was 4-1.

Archie DuPree, who works at a local funeral home, declined to talk about the matter, saying his vote speaks for itself.

Commissioner Chairman Dan McCranie said the current board inherited the matter and worries it will get sued one way or another. “We’re between a rock and a hard place,” he said. “But there are more pressing issues right now.”

The county attorney released a statement saying state law says no entity can “mutilate, deface, defile or abuse contemptuously any publicly owned monument, plaque, marker or memorial” to military personnel, including Confederate soldiers.

“I don’t know if you’re defacing a flag by taking it down,” McCranie said.

Resident Jeff Purvis said the issue has been the talk of the town.

“Some say its racist, but I think it’s heritage,” said Purvis, a correctional officer who is white. “I guess it depends on what color you are.”

Cheryl Wood said she was angered by the commission’s decision to keep the flag flying year-round.

“I think they’re sticking it to us black folks with that vote,” she said. “I don’t think it’s right. The Confederate flag is hatred for black folks.”

Jimmy Lee, a large mustachioed man who is retired from Robins Air Force Base, said he has no problem with the flag at the courthouse memorial.

Then Lee, who is white, paused and added, “Personally, I wouldn’t put up something offensive to other people. That’s county property, so I guess they have a gripe.”