Newspaper - Daily News

The news last summer rippled out of Westwood and shook L.A.'s  African-American community into action. 

The University of California, Los Angeles -- the public university  that educated Los Angeles' first black mayor, pro baseball's first  black player and the Nobel Prize's first black recipient -- had an  incoming freshman class of just 96 African-Americans.  The city's black leaders pounced. 

Three months later, UCLA Acting Chancellor Norman Abrams introduced a  new admissions policy, a "holistic approach" that would consider  applications in their entirety rather than as separate sections. He  said that would benefit black applicants without violating the 9-year-  old state law that prohibits universities from considering an  applicant's race. 

More notable than the victory, though, was the way it was achieved. 

With phone calls and outrage buzzing through the black community,  response was immediate and unified. The Alliance for Equal Opportunity  in Education -- activists, politicians, ministers and UCLA students  and alumni -- got the university's attention, and then that of the  Board of Regents and the University of California president. 

The victory was a catalyst for a new coalition of leaders who had  replaced veterans of the civil-rights movement and were willing to set  aside individual success to achieve it quicker collectively. 

"Without egos, without who is going to get credit, it is about doing  the work," said Charisse Bremond Weaver, president and CEO of  Brotherhood Crusade. "That is the paradigm for this new leadership." 

The alliance, which has met weekly since June, has since expanded its  focus to problems in K-12 education that make black college applicants  less competitive. 

Fresh faces  But not everyone is sold on the impact of these new leaders and its  relevance to L.A.'s shrinking black community. 

"When you talk about the changing of the guard in African-American  leadership, it's hard because most blacks in L.A. will say they don't  see any leaders," said Cherice R. Calhoun, founder and publisher of  the magazine BlackNLA. "A lot of these organizations have been around  for a long time, and people don't see them as being a current  organization for whatever their issues and problems may be." 

This disconnect is particularly noticeable in the San Fernando Valley,  local leaders said, where the black community, dispersed among a  population of nearly 2 million, lacks an epicenter. 

"That hill makes a big difference. It's a little hill, but it makes a  big difference," said the Rev. Zedar Broadous, former president of  the NAACP's Valley chapter. "Many of the leaders tend not to be  educated about making a good connection with the San Fernando Valley  African-American community." 

The big issues  When asked what issues are important to black Valley residents,  though, Broadous named those identified by black leaders over that  hill: economics, education and employment -- "What I call the three  Es." 

Four decades ago, the leaders who emerged from the civil-rights  movement were for years successful at combatting joblessness and  directing resources to African-Americans because the political climate  was concerned about urban issues, said Laura Pulido, a University of  Southern California associate professor of geography and American  studies and ethnicity and author of "Black, Brown, Yellow & Left:  Radical Activism in Los Angeles." 

But by 1980, politics had shifted. Resources for urban improvement  dwindled, Pulido said, and L.A.'s black leaders became less effective. 

"I don't think any group of leaders representing low-income or  working-class people have been able to recover from that," she said.  "How could you?" 

Much work ahead  Problems persist. Among all ethnic groups, African-Americans routinely  fare worst in education and economic situation. The State of Black  L.A. report published two years ago by the United Way and Los Angeles  Urban League was grim: 

Nearly half of black high school students fail to graduate in four  years, and only 18 percent complete a bachelor's degree or higher,  according to the report. Blacks constitute about 30 percent of the  county's homeless, have nearly double the mortality rate of Latinos  and have a median household income of $31,905, less than any other  group. 

"What we have to deal with is bigger than any organization," said  the Rev. Eric P. Lee Sr., executive director of the Southern Christian  Leadership Conference of Greater Los Angeles. "Unless we do something  to affect change, our presence here in Southern California is going to  be even more marginalized than it is now. 

"These are urgent times." 

Bonding has been easy for Lee and his counterparts at the Los Angeles  Urban League and Brotherhood Crusade. Together, these organizations  account for three of L.A.'s four most established black community  organizations. (The National Association for the Advancement of  Colored People, headed by Geraldine Washington for the past 15 years,  is the other.) 

Close in age and each married, these key leaders have taken to  socializing as friends. And they've united around a focal issue --  education. 

Responding to the UCLA admissions numbers -- the alma mater of Tom  Bradley, Jackie Robinson and Ralph J. Bunche -- was a no-brainer. 

"Lack of access to the premier university in Southern California was  like a bucket of cold water in everybody's face," said Blair H.  Taylor, Urban League president and CEO, who received his MBA at UCLA.  "Without that, there is no access to solving economic issues." 

Staying together  But questions remain: How will these organizations move forward? How  will they make an impact in L.A.'s schools? And how will they work  together when visions diverge? 

That is generally where community coalitions break down, said UCLA  history professor Berky Nelson, who has written two books about black  leadership. 

"Usually if there is a problem, you can agree on the end," Nelson  said. "But how you get there, that is where the dissension arises." 

 
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