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Evidence of Things Not Seen
Over twenty-two months in 1979 and 1981 nearly two dozen children were unspeakably murdered in Atlanta despite national attention and outcry; they were all Black. James Baldwin investigated these murders, the Black administration in Atlanta, and Wayne Williams, the Black man tried for the crimes. Because there was only evidence to convict Williams for the murders of two men, the children's cases were closed, offering no justice to the families or the country. Baldwin's incisive analysis implicates the failures of integration as the guilt party, arguing, "There could be no more devastating proof of this assault than the slaughter of the children."
As Stacey Abrams writes in her foreword, "The humanity of black children, of black men and women, of black lives, has ever been a conundrum for America. Forty years on, Baldwin's writing reminds us that we have never resolved the core Do black lives matter? Unequivocally, the moral answer is yes, but James Baldwin refuses such rhetorical comfort." In this, his last book, by excavating American race relations Baldwin exposes the hard-to-face ingrained issues and demands that we all reckon with them.
As Stacey Abrams writes in her foreword, "The humanity of black children, of black men and women, of black lives, has ever been a conundrum for America. Forty years on, Baldwin's writing reminds us that we have never resolved the core Do black lives matter? Unequivocally, the moral answer is yes, but James Baldwin refuses such rhetorical comfort." In this, his last book, by excavating American race relations Baldwin exposes the hard-to-face ingrained issues and demands that we all reckon with them.
144 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1985
About the author
James Baldwin
293 books12.9k followersLibrarian Note: There is more than one author in the Goodreads database with this name. See this thread for more information.
Works of American writer James Arthur Baldwin, outspoken critic of racism, include Go Tell It on the Mountain (1953), a novel, and Notes of a Native Son (1955), a collection of essays.
James Arthur Baldwin authored plays and poems in society.
He came as the eldest of nine children; his stepfather served as a minister. At 14 years of age in 1938, Baldwin preached at the small fireside Pentecostal church in Harlem. From religion in the early 1940s, he transferred his faith to literature with the still evident impassioned cadences of black churches. From 1948, Baldwin made his home primarily in the south of France but often returned to the United States of America to lecture or to teach.
In his Giovanni's Room, a white American expatriate must come to terms with his homosexuality. In 1957, he began spending half of each year in city of New York.
James Baldwin offered a vital literary voice during the era of civil rights activism in the 1950s and 1960s.
He first partially autobiographically accounted his youth. His influential Nobody Knows My Name and The Fire Next Time informed a large white audience. Another Country talks about gay sexual tensions among intellectuals of New York. The black community savaged his gay themes. Eldridge Cleaver of the Black Panthers stated the Baldwin displayed an "agonizing, total hatred of blacks." People produced Blues for Mister Charlie, play of Baldwin, in 1964.
Going to Meet the Man and Tell Me How Long the Train's Been Gone provided powerful descriptions. He as an openly gay man increasingly in condemned discrimination against lesbian persons.
From stomach cancer, Baldwin died in Saint-Paul-de-Vence, France. People buried his body at the Ferncliff cemetery in Hartsdale near city of New York.
Works of American writer James Arthur Baldwin, outspoken critic of racism, include Go Tell It on the Mountain (1953), a novel, and Notes of a Native Son (1955), a collection of essays.
James Arthur Baldwin authored plays and poems in society.
He came as the eldest of nine children; his stepfather served as a minister. At 14 years of age in 1938, Baldwin preached at the small fireside Pentecostal church in Harlem. From religion in the early 1940s, he transferred his faith to literature with the still evident impassioned cadences of black churches. From 1948, Baldwin made his home primarily in the south of France but often returned to the United States of America to lecture or to teach.
In his Giovanni's Room, a white American expatriate must come to terms with his homosexuality. In 1957, he began spending half of each year in city of New York.
James Baldwin offered a vital literary voice during the era of civil rights activism in the 1950s and 1960s.
He first partially autobiographically accounted his youth. His influential Nobody Knows My Name and The Fire Next Time informed a large white audience. Another Country talks about gay sexual tensions among intellectuals of New York. The black community savaged his gay themes. Eldridge Cleaver of the Black Panthers stated the Baldwin displayed an "agonizing, total hatred of blacks." People produced Blues for Mister Charlie, play of Baldwin, in 1964.
Going to Meet the Man and Tell Me How Long the Train's Been Gone provided powerful descriptions. He as an openly gay man increasingly in condemned discrimination against lesbian persons.
From stomach cancer, Baldwin died in Saint-Paul-de-Vence, France. People buried his body at the Ferncliff cemetery in Hartsdale near city of New York.
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September 3, 2015
Reading Ta-Nehisi Coates (his recent Between the World and Me, his essay on reparations, and everything he posts to his Atlantic.com blog) sent me back to James Baldwin, an important influence on Coates. I'd never read Evidence of Things Not Seen, but there it was before me at my town library's book sale so I brought it home.
If you've never read Baldwin, this isn't a good place to start. It's brilliant in places, but it's disjointed and fragmentary in others. The book was catalyzed by the murder of almost 30 black children, teenagers, and young adults in Atlanta between 1979 and 1981. When Baldwin wrote -- the book was first published in 1985 -- the case was fresh in people's minds. Some 30 years later it isn't. Baldwin's comments on the trial of Wayne Williams and on Williams himself are enough to create doubt that Williams killed anyone, and certainly not any of the children for whose murders he was never tried, but they don't provide a coherent narrative of Williams's arrest and trial. The 1995 edition of the book, which I don't have, includes a foreword by Derrick Bell with Janet Bell. That might be a better place to start, or by brushing up on the facts of the case.
Even if one's memory of the Atlanta case is sketchy at best, the message comes through loud and clear to the reader in 2015: Black Lives Didn't Matter in 1979 any more than they do today, and the contortions that white justice, the white media, and white popular opinion will go through to avoid thinking too hard about this have not changed all that much.
Why didn't, and don't, black lives matter to white America? Here is where Baldwin shines, and where Ta-Nehisi Coates's debt to him is clear. Because racism is not an aberration or an unpleasant side effect of the American experiment and the American Dream: it's part of their foundation. "The real meaning and history of Manifest Destiny, for example," Baldwin writes, "is nothing less than calculated and deliberate genocide." Not news to many of us, but look at the shrieking that greets any attempt to include even a watered-down version of that conclusion in high school history books.
Whiteness, Baldwin writes, was created by Europeans to justify what they did to peoples who were not, in their view, white enough to matter. And whiteness isn't primarily a matter of color: it's a matter of how those in power choose to see you. The Irish did not matter to the English, though their skin showed the same range of colors. The Jews, Roma, and others didn't matter to the Germans. In World War II, Baldwin writes, "the West went to war against the monster the West had created, in self-defense and for no other reason" (italics in original).
Baldwin is profoundly concerned with morality, with the corrosive effects of this history both on those who consider themselves white and on those whose survival depends on emulating whiteness. His indictment of the Christianity practiced by the European enslavers and colonizers is scathing, but equally powerful is his recognition of how black people managed to transform that toxic legacy: "The Black preacher . . . was our first warrior, terrorist, or guerrilla. He told us that trouble don't last always. He told us that our children and our elders were sacred, when the Civilized were spitting on them and hacking them to pieces, in the name of God, and in order to keep making money" (italics in original).
Baldwin's style can be challenging. Yes, there are probably too many commas, but the commas slow the reader down. There's no speeding through this book, which is OK because it's only 125 pages long. It's not the best introduction to Baldwin's work, but in 2015 it's still very much worth reading.
If you've never read Baldwin, this isn't a good place to start. It's brilliant in places, but it's disjointed and fragmentary in others. The book was catalyzed by the murder of almost 30 black children, teenagers, and young adults in Atlanta between 1979 and 1981. When Baldwin wrote -- the book was first published in 1985 -- the case was fresh in people's minds. Some 30 years later it isn't. Baldwin's comments on the trial of Wayne Williams and on Williams himself are enough to create doubt that Williams killed anyone, and certainly not any of the children for whose murders he was never tried, but they don't provide a coherent narrative of Williams's arrest and trial. The 1995 edition of the book, which I don't have, includes a foreword by Derrick Bell with Janet Bell. That might be a better place to start, or by brushing up on the facts of the case.
Even if one's memory of the Atlanta case is sketchy at best, the message comes through loud and clear to the reader in 2015: Black Lives Didn't Matter in 1979 any more than they do today, and the contortions that white justice, the white media, and white popular opinion will go through to avoid thinking too hard about this have not changed all that much.
Why didn't, and don't, black lives matter to white America? Here is where Baldwin shines, and where Ta-Nehisi Coates's debt to him is clear. Because racism is not an aberration or an unpleasant side effect of the American experiment and the American Dream: it's part of their foundation. "The real meaning and history of Manifest Destiny, for example," Baldwin writes, "is nothing less than calculated and deliberate genocide." Not news to many of us, but look at the shrieking that greets any attempt to include even a watered-down version of that conclusion in high school history books.
Whiteness, Baldwin writes, was created by Europeans to justify what they did to peoples who were not, in their view, white enough to matter. And whiteness isn't primarily a matter of color: it's a matter of how those in power choose to see you. The Irish did not matter to the English, though their skin showed the same range of colors. The Jews, Roma, and others didn't matter to the Germans. In World War II, Baldwin writes, "the West went to war against the monster the West had created, in self-defense and for no other reason" (italics in original).
Baldwin is profoundly concerned with morality, with the corrosive effects of this history both on those who consider themselves white and on those whose survival depends on emulating whiteness. His indictment of the Christianity practiced by the European enslavers and colonizers is scathing, but equally powerful is his recognition of how black people managed to transform that toxic legacy: "The Black preacher . . . was our first warrior, terrorist, or guerrilla. He told us that trouble don't last always. He told us that our children and our elders were sacred, when the Civilized were spitting on them and hacking them to pieces, in the name of God, and in order to keep making money" (italics in original).
Baldwin's style can be challenging. Yes, there are probably too many commas, but the commas slow the reader down. There's no speeding through this book, which is OK because it's only 125 pages long. It's not the best introduction to Baldwin's work, but in 2015 it's still very much worth reading.
May 15, 2018
In 1982, a Black man named Wayne Williams was on trial for the murders of 2 men. The “Atlanta Child Murders”, so named for the 23 black children around Atlanta Williams was suspected of killing (but never tried or convicted for), were troubling enough for James Baldwin that he returned from Paris to interview those close to the case. What he found was in many respects was not unexpected in a murder trial involving a Black man in America in that the evidence against Williams was flimsy, the judge prejudicial, and Williams’s lawyers were incompetent.
While Baldwin professes his belief in Williams’s innocence, this book is less about the details of that case (although what he does write about is fascinating) then about what how society, Black and White, responds to him. For Baldwin, seeing the prosecution try to connect Williams’s supposed homosexuality to a case where no sexual assaults occurred, their attempt to establish a “pattern” in murders where the causes of death widely varied, or essentially try him for 23 murders he was never charged with was reminiscent of most White peoples history and fear of Black men. The outcome was in that sense no surprise. More disturbing for Baldwin was how quickly Atlanta’s Black community was quick to condemn Williams.
This is where Baldwin is at his best as he writes about the concept of feeling or aspiring to be White or Black, irregardless of your actual skin culture or culture. It is a society in which White people have convinced themselves and many Black people that the culmination of civilization, is to be integrated in White society. Here Baldwin makes a critical distinction between desegregation and integration. The former historically being:
“A legal, public, social matter: a demand that one be treated as a human being and not like a mule, or a dog. It was not even a direct demand for social justice: desegregation was a necessary first step in the Black journey toward that goal. It had absolutely nothing to do with the hope of becoming White. Desegregation demanded, simply, that Black people, and, especially, Black children, be recognized and treated as human beings by all of the institutions of the country in which they were born.”
As opposed to integration which:
“The false question of integration that, not at all paradoxically, has set the White and Black communities more than ever at a division and raised to so dangerous a pressure the real price, and meaning, of the history responsible for this division. Let us backtrack, and, trying to be fair, remember that the Black demand was not for integration. Integration, as we could all testify, simply by looking at the colors of our skins, had, long ago, been accomplished.”
As Baldwin writes about the latter:
“I’m not sure I want to be integrated into a burning house. White Americans, however, bless their generous little hearts, are quite unable to imagine that there can be anyone, anywhere, who does not wish to be White, and are probably the most abject victims of history the world has ever seen, or will ever know.”
And yet throughout America’s history, there have always been those that dreamt that if they adapt to the dominant culture, they will been seen as something more than second class non-citizens. History is littered with the disappointment of those dreams and yet it continues. As Baldwin says:
“It is a very grave matter to be forced to imitate a people for whom you know, which is the price of your performance and survival, you do not exist. It is hard to imitate a people whose existence appears, mainly, to be made tolerable by their bottomless gratitude that they are not, thank heaven, you.”
This is a rigged system and while White society will allow cosmetic measures to give the appearance of inclusion (he cites the political gerrymandering of majority Black cities, with Black mayors, who cut off from real opportunity outside of that city are subsequently accused of lacking the moral fiber to succeed.when they fail), It is in the cycle described as:
“A high-risk area is intolerably expensive because the money spent by the ghetto never returns to the ghetto. This means that those who batten on it-salesmen and landlords and lawyers, for example-must turn their profits with ruthless speed, for the territory occupied by the Blacks, or the non-White poor, swiftly becomes a kind of devastation. This means that the citizens of the ghetto have absolutely no way of imposing their will on the city, still less on the State. No one is compelled to hear the needs of a captive population. Thus, the ghetto is condemned for the garbage in the streets, the condition of the buildings, which they do not own, the disaster of the schools just as though the Black battles with the boards of education never happened, just as though schools exist independent of the neighborhoods in which they are found, and as though a Black person can walk into a bank and take out a loan or insure his property or his life on the same terms available to White people”
Ultimately Baldwin argues through the lens of the Williams case that “All governments, without exception, make only those concessions deemed absolutely necessary for the maintenance of the status quo”.
Therefore in order to achieve true autonomy, demands for integration should instead be replaced with demands for recognition as fellow citizens first and foremost, with the same intrinsic hopes and dreams as any other citizen. Baldwin, as he predicted, did not live to see that day. As his readers in 2018, we can only hope that we will live long enough to.
While Baldwin professes his belief in Williams’s innocence, this book is less about the details of that case (although what he does write about is fascinating) then about what how society, Black and White, responds to him. For Baldwin, seeing the prosecution try to connect Williams’s supposed homosexuality to a case where no sexual assaults occurred, their attempt to establish a “pattern” in murders where the causes of death widely varied, or essentially try him for 23 murders he was never charged with was reminiscent of most White peoples history and fear of Black men. The outcome was in that sense no surprise. More disturbing for Baldwin was how quickly Atlanta’s Black community was quick to condemn Williams.
This is where Baldwin is at his best as he writes about the concept of feeling or aspiring to be White or Black, irregardless of your actual skin culture or culture. It is a society in which White people have convinced themselves and many Black people that the culmination of civilization, is to be integrated in White society. Here Baldwin makes a critical distinction between desegregation and integration. The former historically being:
“A legal, public, social matter: a demand that one be treated as a human being and not like a mule, or a dog. It was not even a direct demand for social justice: desegregation was a necessary first step in the Black journey toward that goal. It had absolutely nothing to do with the hope of becoming White. Desegregation demanded, simply, that Black people, and, especially, Black children, be recognized and treated as human beings by all of the institutions of the country in which they were born.”
As opposed to integration which:
“The false question of integration that, not at all paradoxically, has set the White and Black communities more than ever at a division and raised to so dangerous a pressure the real price, and meaning, of the history responsible for this division. Let us backtrack, and, trying to be fair, remember that the Black demand was not for integration. Integration, as we could all testify, simply by looking at the colors of our skins, had, long ago, been accomplished.”
As Baldwin writes about the latter:
“I’m not sure I want to be integrated into a burning house. White Americans, however, bless their generous little hearts, are quite unable to imagine that there can be anyone, anywhere, who does not wish to be White, and are probably the most abject victims of history the world has ever seen, or will ever know.”
And yet throughout America’s history, there have always been those that dreamt that if they adapt to the dominant culture, they will been seen as something more than second class non-citizens. History is littered with the disappointment of those dreams and yet it continues. As Baldwin says:
“It is a very grave matter to be forced to imitate a people for whom you know, which is the price of your performance and survival, you do not exist. It is hard to imitate a people whose existence appears, mainly, to be made tolerable by their bottomless gratitude that they are not, thank heaven, you.”
This is a rigged system and while White society will allow cosmetic measures to give the appearance of inclusion (he cites the political gerrymandering of majority Black cities, with Black mayors, who cut off from real opportunity outside of that city are subsequently accused of lacking the moral fiber to succeed.when they fail), It is in the cycle described as:
“A high-risk area is intolerably expensive because the money spent by the ghetto never returns to the ghetto. This means that those who batten on it-salesmen and landlords and lawyers, for example-must turn their profits with ruthless speed, for the territory occupied by the Blacks, or the non-White poor, swiftly becomes a kind of devastation. This means that the citizens of the ghetto have absolutely no way of imposing their will on the city, still less on the State. No one is compelled to hear the needs of a captive population. Thus, the ghetto is condemned for the garbage in the streets, the condition of the buildings, which they do not own, the disaster of the schools just as though the Black battles with the boards of education never happened, just as though schools exist independent of the neighborhoods in which they are found, and as though a Black person can walk into a bank and take out a loan or insure his property or his life on the same terms available to White people”
Ultimately Baldwin argues through the lens of the Williams case that “All governments, without exception, make only those concessions deemed absolutely necessary for the maintenance of the status quo”.
Therefore in order to achieve true autonomy, demands for integration should instead be replaced with demands for recognition as fellow citizens first and foremost, with the same intrinsic hopes and dreams as any other citizen. Baldwin, as he predicted, did not live to see that day. As his readers in 2018, we can only hope that we will live long enough to.
May 31, 2024
An interesting book-length essay by James Baldwin that covers the Atlanta Child Murders and what they say about the larger discussion of race in America. This was a good book but I'm not a fan of the format. I wish the essay had section breaks instead its just a long essay with no demarcations. The essay is not solely about the Atlanta Child Murders, as Baldwin is known to do he brings up larger issues that try to explain the moment. He does that well, I just wish he was a little clearer about why he brings some things up as opposed to others. If you read this book and are not familiar with the Atlanta Child Murders, then it may be helpful if you check out the podcast Atlanta Monster (https://atlantamonster.com/) which gives a deep dive on the case and you also hear from Wayne Williams, the accused killer. Baldwin was not convinced that Williams's guilt was proven and he explains in the book why he thinks that way.
January 10, 2018
History, I contend, is the present - we, with every breath we take, every move we make, are History - and what goes around, comes around.
Δεν πρόκεται για ένα μυθιστόρημα που αφορά τις δολοφονίες παιδιών στην Atlanta, αλλά μάλλον μια εξέταση των θεμάτων που ήδη αναπτύσσει ο Baldwin σε προηγούμενες συλλογές του. Συγκεκριμένα, είναι ένας στοχασμός πάνω στα εγκλήματα της περιόδου 1979-1981, ένα σχόλιο πάνω στη δίκη και τον ίδιο τον κατηγορούμενο, W. B. Williams, που ξετυλίγεται ελικοειδώς σε μια τύποις καταγγελία των φυλετικών σχέσεων στην Αμερική και το διαχωρισμό των μαύρων σε κοινωνικές βαθμίδες, μεταξύ άλλων, κατά την εποχή του R. Reagan.
[...]the Black demand was not for integration. Integration, as we could all testify, simply by looking at the colors of our skins, had, long ago, been accomplished.[...]The Black demand was for desegregation, which is a legal, public, social matter: a demand that one be treated as a human being and not like a mule, or a dog. It was not even a direct demand for social justice: desegregation was a necessary first step in the Black journey toward that goal. It had absolutely nothing to do with the hope of becoming White. Desegregation demanded, simply, that Black people, and, especially, Black children, be recognized and treated as human beings by all of the institutions of the country in which they were born. Since, I have done the State some service and they know it, desegregation demanded that the State recognize, and act on, this irrefutable and irreducible truth.
Ο Baldwin καταδεικνύει την πιθανότητα αθωότητας του W. B. Williams βασίζοντας αυτή τη σκέψη του στις συσπάσεις της λευκής δικαιοσύνης, των λευκών μέσων ενημέρωσης, της λευκής κοινής γνώμης και στη συστηματική αποφυγή λήψης μέτρων για τη δυσάρεστη κατάσταση της μαύρης κοινότητας. Σύμφωνα με το συγγραφέα ο ρατσισμός δεν αποτελεί εκτροπή ούτε απρόοπτη παρενέργεια του Αμερικανικού Ονείρου, εντούτοις είναι θεμέλιό του. The real meaning and history of Manifest Destiny, for example, γράφει ο Baldwin, is nothing less than calculated and deliberate genocide.
September 4, 2020
This is basically a novella-length essay. I had seen it on a list of books to read & was interested because the topic was the Atlanta Child Murders (at least 26 children/teens & two adults, possibly more) & Wayne Williams. I remember this being in the news, though I didn't remember many details. I was intrigued because I had NO idea that Baldwin had traveled to Atlanta to report on this. (I also did not remember that Wayne Williams was tried for & convicted of the murders of the two adults killed, but was not charged with any of the child murders. Yet, he was tried in the press & popular opinion of all the murders, & Baldwin does address this in his book. The assumption was/is that Williams was a prolific serial killer & the cases were closed even though nobody was ever officially charged or tried. In 2019, Atlanta's mayor Keisha Lance Bottoms reopened the cases, hoping new technology will be able to help conclusively close the cases. I do not know the current status. Meanwhile, Wayne Williams is still serving his two life sentences.)
Baldwin's book was quite different than what I was expecting. While he does cover some about the murders & Wayne Williams, it's really a jumping off point on him dissecting race & race relations in America. If you're looking for an account of the murders, or the investigation, or the trial, this may not be the book you want. (In fact, I think you need to already have a passing knowledge of events prior to reading for some of it to make sense.) If you're looking for an analysis of all the things that have converged & led up to this type of moment, this is *definitely* the book you want. If this hadn't been a library book, I think I would have underlined or highlighted about 70% of this book (& I'm not even the type to write in my books). There's just so much truth here, so many blunt observations, so much that is accurate today, especially looking at what is happening in the US right now.
Even though the book is short (about 120 pages), Baldwin's paragraphs are dense & packed. I basically read it out loud to myself to make sure I was slowing down enough to take in & understand what he was saying. He has such a clarity of vision.
Crucial reading even today. As the summary says, the essay is timeless.
P.S. Re: the topic of the Atlanta Child Murders, I have had the podcast Atlanta Monster recommended to me. I haven't yet listened to it, but mention it here in case you're interested.
Baldwin's book was quite different than what I was expecting. While he does cover some about the murders & Wayne Williams, it's really a jumping off point on him dissecting race & race relations in America. If you're looking for an account of the murders, or the investigation, or the trial, this may not be the book you want. (In fact, I think you need to already have a passing knowledge of events prior to reading for some of it to make sense.) If you're looking for an analysis of all the things that have converged & led up to this type of moment, this is *definitely* the book you want. If this hadn't been a library book, I think I would have underlined or highlighted about 70% of this book (& I'm not even the type to write in my books). There's just so much truth here, so many blunt observations, so much that is accurate today, especially looking at what is happening in the US right now.
Even though the book is short (about 120 pages), Baldwin's paragraphs are dense & packed. I basically read it out loud to myself to make sure I was slowing down enough to take in & understand what he was saying. He has such a clarity of vision.
Crucial reading even today. As the summary says, the essay is timeless.
P.S. Re: the topic of the Atlanta Child Murders, I have had the podcast Atlanta Monster recommended to me. I haven't yet listened to it, but mention it here in case you're interested.
July 31, 2007
This meditation on the Atlanta Child Murders of black and poor youth (which many still believe did not start or end with Wayne Williams and even included little black girls) spirals out into a general indictment of American race relations--and black class divisions--during the Age of Reagan. At times muddled and repetitive, Baldwin regains his early brilliance and fire at certain points in this extensive essay; those circles of repetition become a leitmotif that everything is connected. Like everything about Baldwin, it is very much worth a read, if you are patient.
November 5, 2015
I fell in love with James Baldwin when I read The Fire Next Time. There is no other way to describe it. Reading this book posed a challenge, because I love him and want every word to turn golden. But that didn't happen here. It wasn't a true crime novel but rather used a true crime to examine many of the themes Baldwin has discussed elsewhere to sublime effect. But like great love affairs I think that the times of trial will render the golden words more significant and brilliant; now James is a real person labouring, cigarette clamped in his jaw, to be heard, rather than an impossible ideal.
February 8, 2023
The Evidence of Things Not Seen is Baldwin's scathing indictment of America's historically prejudiced legal and moral systems. It searches for a root cause that led to the events of the Wayne Williams trial, if you could define it as that, as opposed to focusing on the details of the case. What Baldwin is concerned with more than anything else is the complete avoidance of a fair trial. Though he does have his own assumptions relating to the verdict, he asserts that we will never know the truth because there was no trial, and that is the greater tragedy. Baldwin is particularly sharp here and his rhetorical power is simply unreal. He was an angel if ever the word could be applied to a human being.
September 7, 2018
This means more to me because I miss Atlanta, I love Atlanta, Atlanta is my first wife, Atlanta is where I really made something of myself. I spent all of my twenties in Atlanta, and it may be where I spend the most time living in America, ever.
So to read these pages, where, if for not the Hand of Death, all of these men are still in charge, fills me with shame. Intense shame. Ugly shame. There is no reason for it. They've been there since before I was born, doing nothing for the same ugly parts of town. My friend Dustin published a piece this year about a woman who lives with no running water in Vine City. James Baldwin was in Vine City in 1982, and no one had running water then either. Fuck that. Fuck that fucking shit. The same woman has represented that part of town since before I was born and at this rate -- two DUIs, disappearing money, doing nothing for her district ever --- she'll be there after I die.
This book is an essay, published in parts in Playboy. It is sort of about the Atlanta Child Murders, but it is also about raising black boys, and raising poor black boys, and this weird sort of fucked up attitude that Atlantans have about their town. I'm from Atlanta. I'm not from Georgia. Everyone says that now. Everyone said that then. It bewildered James Baldwin then ("I would never expect anyone to understand me if I said - 'I'm from Harlem. I'm not from New York.'") but I understand it now. Everything is more fractured and ugly, if that is possible. James Baldwin didn't believe it was possible. He recounts a report from forced labor camps somewhere. An event so ugly I don't even want to type it up here because it brings my dinner up. And he says, he just cannot believe that a human would go on such a journey to be so violent, so sinister, so ruthlessly repulsive. I can believe it, now. I've seen it.
Wayne Williams is still in jail for murders he probably didn't commit and Atlanta, as JB so fondly announces, is just like Venice in Death in Venice -- loathe to admit there is a plague in the high season and held in the 'icy Chamber of Commerce.'
Atlanta -- the city too busy to hate or care or give a fuck.
We are disgusting, rueful, fucked up creatures, but at least I didn't suffer the great misfortune of being born White.
So to read these pages, where, if for not the Hand of Death, all of these men are still in charge, fills me with shame. Intense shame. Ugly shame. There is no reason for it. They've been there since before I was born, doing nothing for the same ugly parts of town. My friend Dustin published a piece this year about a woman who lives with no running water in Vine City. James Baldwin was in Vine City in 1982, and no one had running water then either. Fuck that. Fuck that fucking shit. The same woman has represented that part of town since before I was born and at this rate -- two DUIs, disappearing money, doing nothing for her district ever --- she'll be there after I die.
This book is an essay, published in parts in Playboy. It is sort of about the Atlanta Child Murders, but it is also about raising black boys, and raising poor black boys, and this weird sort of fucked up attitude that Atlantans have about their town. I'm from Atlanta. I'm not from Georgia. Everyone says that now. Everyone said that then. It bewildered James Baldwin then ("I would never expect anyone to understand me if I said - 'I'm from Harlem. I'm not from New York.'") but I understand it now. Everything is more fractured and ugly, if that is possible. James Baldwin didn't believe it was possible. He recounts a report from forced labor camps somewhere. An event so ugly I don't even want to type it up here because it brings my dinner up. And he says, he just cannot believe that a human would go on such a journey to be so violent, so sinister, so ruthlessly repulsive. I can believe it, now. I've seen it.
Wayne Williams is still in jail for murders he probably didn't commit and Atlanta, as JB so fondly announces, is just like Venice in Death in Venice -- loathe to admit there is a plague in the high season and held in the 'icy Chamber of Commerce.'
Atlanta -- the city too busy to hate or care or give a fuck.
We are disgusting, rueful, fucked up creatures, but at least I didn't suffer the great misfortune of being born White.
February 16, 2023
From 1979 to 1981 two dozen Black children were killed in Atlanta by what has been long thought to be a serial killer. In 1982, Wayne Williams, a black man was convicted of killing two men, but prosecutors relied heavily on the possible link between him and the deaths of these children to essentially close the case— no one has ever been tried and convicted of killing any of these children.
James Baldwin left the comfort of his sabbatical in Europe to investigate the murders— in his preface stating “Walter Lowe, of Playboy wrote to me— to my home in France— suggesting that I go to Atlanta to do a story concerning the missing and (as it evolved) murdered children. I had been following the story— what there was, that is, in the foreign press, to follow. It is not so easy to follow a story occurring in one’s own country from the vantage point of another one.” But Baldwin seemingly knew exactly what he was returning to “after all, what I remembered— or imagined myself to remember— of my life in America was terror.” And terror indeed, did he return to.
In the year 2023, James Baldwin’s last book The Evidence of Things Not Seen was reissued, with a new foreword from political leader and New York Times bestselling author Stacey Abrams. I do find this to be a particular interesting choice, considering who catches heat in this work, but we’ll discuss that momentarily.
In The Evidence of Things Not Seen, Baldwin offers a searing reflection on this case, questioning the conviction by way of public opinion of Wayne Williams, and critiques Atlanta’s Black administration:
“The presence of Black administration —as distinguished, perhaps, from an incontestable actuality— proved that the “city too busy to hate could not be accused of administering “Southern” justice. It proved nothing of the sort, not only because Atlanta belongs to the state of Georgia but because Georgia belongs to the United States.”
He continues:
The optimistic ferocity of this cosmetic job is the principal, if not the only reason for the presence, in some cities, of the Black mayor. It is absolutely safe to say that this phenomenon is, on the part of the Republic, cynical. It is a concession masking the face of power, which remains White. These presence of these beleaguered Black men—some of whom., after all, putting it brutally, may or may not be for sale— threatens the power of the Republic far less than would their absence.
Cities, it any event, are controlled by states, and these United States are controlled by the real aspirations of Washington. All governments, without exception, make only those concessions deemed absolutely necessary for the status quo; and if one really wishes to know how highly this public esteems Black freedom, one has only to watch the American performance in the world.
The Mayor at the time was Maynard Jackson, a Black man, and Atlanta’s first. Jackson worked hard to integrate the police force and a Black police chief oversaw the investigation. At Wayne Williams' trial it was a Black judge who sentenced him to life. I would encourage everyone to check out the article “When James Baldwin Wrote About the Atlanta Child Murders” from The New Yorker. Baldwin continues to highlight that what was seen as progress, having Black faces in high places, did not equate to anything more than maintaining the status quo. The victims of this crime, all black, all poor, mostly young boys, never received the rigorous investigation that would be given had these been white children. With the sentencing of Wayne Williams came the end of this case.
I couldn’t help but think of the current discussion of the murder of Tyre Nichols by 5 Black police officers, as Baldwin spoke about being guided around Atlanta by the Black Atlanta police force— he first thinks of his time growing up “Black policemen were another matter. We used to say, “If you must call a policeman”— for we hardly ever did—”for God’s sake, try to make sure it’s a White one.” A Black policeman could completely demolish you.” I couldn’t help but think of the current discussion of the murder of Tyre Nichols by 5 Black police officers, as Baldwin spoke about being guided around Atlanta by the Black Atlanta police force— he first thinks of his time growing up “Black policemen were another matter. We used to say, “If you must call a policeman”— for we hardly ever did—”for God’s sake, try to make sure it’s a White one.” A Black policeman could completely demolish you.” He gives a bit of historical context, interestingly, Atlanta police when first hired to the force (In 1948, the First African-American police officers go on duty on Auburn Ave, April 3 and by 1955, there are 15 officers on the police force) were not permitted to arrest White people. Then connecting that to what he viewed in the present he states “When I tried to compare their situation in Atlanta, now, with the situation I remember from my youth in Harlem, I found myself facing a void icier than the meer passage of time. The cops I remembered had known what the community felt about them, and it hadn’t seemed to matter. Here, they knew too, that many elements of the community distrusted them, but the knowledge seemed to sting.”
We arrive in 2023, where nothing has changed other than the system expanding right along with that distrust. Though these feelings may sting Black and brown officers who join the force to allegedly make a change, it hasn’t stung enough for them to remove themselves from this system of policing that has always been inherently racist. We have arrived in 2023, and a young Black man is used “a human piñata for those police officers. It was an unadulterated, unabashed, nonstop beating of this young boy for three minutes. That is what we saw in that video,” according the Nichols’ family attorney.
The Evidence of Things Not Seen was an eerie read, for the simple fact that Baldwin’s words fit too perfectly in the present day. He cries “Lord. The words sound, now, so beautifully naive, so trusting. For we felt, then— or rather the people who were handling me felt, then— that we had only to prove our worth and no one could deny our right to live in our country, as free as all other citizens.” The Evidence of Things Not Seen is a dose of reality amongst the hopefully writings, marketed as anti-racist literature that coddle the white reader give false hope to the Black, that reforms and DEI will carry us into a brighter future. 50 years ago Baldwin said “Others may see American progress in economic, racial, and social affairs— I do not.”
Baldwin did not sugarcoat, he did not naively believe that he would see progress in his lifetime. But he told us directly that there needs to be a change. Or we will continue to fail our children, like those that were murdered in Atlanta and never saw a modicum of what could be considered justice. Or even the hundreds who disappeared and no one cared. We will fail those like Wayne Williams (who Baldwin says must be added to the list of Atlanta’s slaughtered Black children”, a Black man held in legalized bondage. We will continue to fail ourselves. So there must be a radical change— that we are all responsible for.
“History, I contend, is the present— we, with every breath we take, every move we make, are History— and what goes around, comes around.”
— James Baldwin
April 2, 1985
James Baldwin left the comfort of his sabbatical in Europe to investigate the murders— in his preface stating “Walter Lowe, of Playboy wrote to me— to my home in France— suggesting that I go to Atlanta to do a story concerning the missing and (as it evolved) murdered children. I had been following the story— what there was, that is, in the foreign press, to follow. It is not so easy to follow a story occurring in one’s own country from the vantage point of another one.” But Baldwin seemingly knew exactly what he was returning to “after all, what I remembered— or imagined myself to remember— of my life in America was terror.” And terror indeed, did he return to.
In the year 2023, James Baldwin’s last book The Evidence of Things Not Seen was reissued, with a new foreword from political leader and New York Times bestselling author Stacey Abrams. I do find this to be a particular interesting choice, considering who catches heat in this work, but we’ll discuss that momentarily.
In The Evidence of Things Not Seen, Baldwin offers a searing reflection on this case, questioning the conviction by way of public opinion of Wayne Williams, and critiques Atlanta’s Black administration:
“The presence of Black administration —as distinguished, perhaps, from an incontestable actuality— proved that the “city too busy to hate could not be accused of administering “Southern” justice. It proved nothing of the sort, not only because Atlanta belongs to the state of Georgia but because Georgia belongs to the United States.”
He continues:
The optimistic ferocity of this cosmetic job is the principal, if not the only reason for the presence, in some cities, of the Black mayor. It is absolutely safe to say that this phenomenon is, on the part of the Republic, cynical. It is a concession masking the face of power, which remains White. These presence of these beleaguered Black men—some of whom., after all, putting it brutally, may or may not be for sale— threatens the power of the Republic far less than would their absence.
Cities, it any event, are controlled by states, and these United States are controlled by the real aspirations of Washington. All governments, without exception, make only those concessions deemed absolutely necessary for the status quo; and if one really wishes to know how highly this public esteems Black freedom, one has only to watch the American performance in the world.
The Mayor at the time was Maynard Jackson, a Black man, and Atlanta’s first. Jackson worked hard to integrate the police force and a Black police chief oversaw the investigation. At Wayne Williams' trial it was a Black judge who sentenced him to life. I would encourage everyone to check out the article “When James Baldwin Wrote About the Atlanta Child Murders” from The New Yorker. Baldwin continues to highlight that what was seen as progress, having Black faces in high places, did not equate to anything more than maintaining the status quo. The victims of this crime, all black, all poor, mostly young boys, never received the rigorous investigation that would be given had these been white children. With the sentencing of Wayne Williams came the end of this case.
I couldn’t help but think of the current discussion of the murder of Tyre Nichols by 5 Black police officers, as Baldwin spoke about being guided around Atlanta by the Black Atlanta police force— he first thinks of his time growing up “Black policemen were another matter. We used to say, “If you must call a policeman”— for we hardly ever did—”for God’s sake, try to make sure it’s a White one.” A Black policeman could completely demolish you.” I couldn’t help but think of the current discussion of the murder of Tyre Nichols by 5 Black police officers, as Baldwin spoke about being guided around Atlanta by the Black Atlanta police force— he first thinks of his time growing up “Black policemen were another matter. We used to say, “If you must call a policeman”— for we hardly ever did—”for God’s sake, try to make sure it’s a White one.” A Black policeman could completely demolish you.” He gives a bit of historical context, interestingly, Atlanta police when first hired to the force (In 1948, the First African-American police officers go on duty on Auburn Ave, April 3 and by 1955, there are 15 officers on the police force) were not permitted to arrest White people. Then connecting that to what he viewed in the present he states “When I tried to compare their situation in Atlanta, now, with the situation I remember from my youth in Harlem, I found myself facing a void icier than the meer passage of time. The cops I remembered had known what the community felt about them, and it hadn’t seemed to matter. Here, they knew too, that many elements of the community distrusted them, but the knowledge seemed to sting.”
We arrive in 2023, where nothing has changed other than the system expanding right along with that distrust. Though these feelings may sting Black and brown officers who join the force to allegedly make a change, it hasn’t stung enough for them to remove themselves from this system of policing that has always been inherently racist. We have arrived in 2023, and a young Black man is used “a human piñata for those police officers. It was an unadulterated, unabashed, nonstop beating of this young boy for three minutes. That is what we saw in that video,” according the Nichols’ family attorney.
The Evidence of Things Not Seen was an eerie read, for the simple fact that Baldwin’s words fit too perfectly in the present day. He cries “Lord. The words sound, now, so beautifully naive, so trusting. For we felt, then— or rather the people who were handling me felt, then— that we had only to prove our worth and no one could deny our right to live in our country, as free as all other citizens.” The Evidence of Things Not Seen is a dose of reality amongst the hopefully writings, marketed as anti-racist literature that coddle the white reader give false hope to the Black, that reforms and DEI will carry us into a brighter future. 50 years ago Baldwin said “Others may see American progress in economic, racial, and social affairs— I do not.”
Baldwin did not sugarcoat, he did not naively believe that he would see progress in his lifetime. But he told us directly that there needs to be a change. Or we will continue to fail our children, like those that were murdered in Atlanta and never saw a modicum of what could be considered justice. Or even the hundreds who disappeared and no one cared. We will fail those like Wayne Williams (who Baldwin says must be added to the list of Atlanta’s slaughtered Black children”, a Black man held in legalized bondage. We will continue to fail ourselves. So there must be a radical change— that we are all responsible for.
“History, I contend, is the present— we, with every breath we take, every move we make, are History— and what goes around, comes around.”
— James Baldwin
April 2, 1985
February 24, 2017
Musings prompted by the murders of black children in Atlanta 1979-1981. Many insightful passages; here are two:
pages 107-108, on the question whether the parents of the man accused of murder lied:
"This question is still left hanging, at least as far as Faye and Homer (and Wayne) Williams are concerned. And, though it is probably safe to suppose them capable of perjury in order to save their son, it is also worth pointing out that they do not, necessarily, feel any compulsion to tell the truth to a Republic that has told them nothing but lies. (Certainly I, for example, do not, and liars can never hear the truth. I try to tell the truth because it is simpler and more sanitary--and infinitely less calisthenic--than trying to remember where you said you were last night.)
"And this Republic has, indeed, told itself and Black people nothing but lies, which is the very definition of the betrayal of the social contract. Therefore, before I could begin to deal with the question of whether or not Faye and Homer Williams were lying, I had to remember that a State, that, for example, could kidnap Morton Sobell [per Wikipedia, found guilty of spying for the Soviets as a part of a ring that included Julius Rosenberg and others] out of Mexico, disguising it as a deportation, and slaughter the Rosenbergs by insisting that a table bought from Macy's was actually a gift from the Russians; a State really capable of believing that men, women, and children, one day ahead of death by starvation, constitute a 'Communist' menace; a State absolutely, compulsively, determined to destroy all those dark wretched whom they cannot buy, or use, and that murders so many people, daily, domestically, and globally, and in the name of freedom!--yes, this State is quite capable of railroading a man to prison, and to death, by means of a false document. It would all be in the day's unexceptional work."
page 122, reflecting on a conversation with a young man ostracized by the church community:
"The encounter, his face, and the aftermath--his death--haunted me for many years; in some way, obviously, it haunts me still. I had the feeling, dimly, then, but very vividly later, that he died because he had been rejected by the only community he knew, that we had had it in our power to bring the light back to his eyes. . . . the word community--which, as I have understood it, simply means our endless connection with, and responsibility for, each other."
Born in 1924, Baldwin would have been 61 when this book was published in 1985. How did I get this far in life without becoming acquainted with James Baldwin? Must read more.
pages 107-108, on the question whether the parents of the man accused of murder lied:
"This question is still left hanging, at least as far as Faye and Homer (and Wayne) Williams are concerned. And, though it is probably safe to suppose them capable of perjury in order to save their son, it is also worth pointing out that they do not, necessarily, feel any compulsion to tell the truth to a Republic that has told them nothing but lies. (Certainly I, for example, do not, and liars can never hear the truth. I try to tell the truth because it is simpler and more sanitary--and infinitely less calisthenic--than trying to remember where you said you were last night.)
"And this Republic has, indeed, told itself and Black people nothing but lies, which is the very definition of the betrayal of the social contract. Therefore, before I could begin to deal with the question of whether or not Faye and Homer Williams were lying, I had to remember that a State, that, for example, could kidnap Morton Sobell [per Wikipedia, found guilty of spying for the Soviets as a part of a ring that included Julius Rosenberg and others] out of Mexico, disguising it as a deportation, and slaughter the Rosenbergs by insisting that a table bought from Macy's was actually a gift from the Russians; a State really capable of believing that men, women, and children, one day ahead of death by starvation, constitute a 'Communist' menace; a State absolutely, compulsively, determined to destroy all those dark wretched whom they cannot buy, or use, and that murders so many people, daily, domestically, and globally, and in the name of freedom!--yes, this State is quite capable of railroading a man to prison, and to death, by means of a false document. It would all be in the day's unexceptional work."
page 122, reflecting on a conversation with a young man ostracized by the church community:
"The encounter, his face, and the aftermath--his death--haunted me for many years; in some way, obviously, it haunts me still. I had the feeling, dimly, then, but very vividly later, that he died because he had been rejected by the only community he knew, that we had had it in our power to bring the light back to his eyes. . . . the word community--which, as I have understood it, simply means our endless connection with, and responsibility for, each other."
Born in 1924, Baldwin would have been 61 when this book was published in 1985. How did I get this far in life without becoming acquainted with James Baldwin? Must read more.
August 8, 2018
I had never read anything by Baldwin prior to this, but was moved to after watching the documentary “I Am Not Your Negro” a few months ago (4 stars, Margaret). This essay (125 pages) from 1985 is ostensibly about the Atlanta child murders of the late 1970’s, but it is more a meditation on race relations in the US, on colour, on guilt (who is, who is not, who should be). It is an angry piece of writing, but not incoherently so. He is a very fine writer, very fine …
“The White man, someone told me, discovered the Cross by way of the Bible, but the Black man discovered the Bible by way of the Cross”.
“The White man, someone told me, discovered the Cross by way of the Bible, but the Black man discovered the Bible by way of the Cross”.
October 28, 2022
While not one of Baldwin's more well-known pieces of writing, The Evidence of Things Not Seen is a collection of essays about the Atlanta child murders that occurred between 1979-1981. Baldwin shares his opinion about how he thinks the investigation into the murders was handled, and he goes into the systemic issues that he thinks caused the investigation to be handled that way. I enjoyed hearing Baldwin's perspective and thought it was a good read. It was also a good introduction into Baldwin's work.
July 24, 2023
Bit hard for me to follow at times, a lot of re-reading but when it clicked some amazing stuff. Bit depressing that it feels like it could’ve been written in the last 5 years but I’ve mostly accepted that about books on this topic.
November 17, 2020
I'll admit, I had expected more about the crime itself but... fuck. Just fuck. Baldwin truly has a way with words. This story was emotional enough before, but Baldwin's essay... just fuk.
February 22, 2023
I’ve only read James Baldwin once before, but Go Tell It on the Mountain made me want to read more, and this novella-length essay presented my first opportunity to do so. Ostensibly it’s about the Atlanta Murders, in which 28 black children, adolescents and adults were murdered between 1979 and 1981. Wayne Williams (also black) was convicted for murders (both adults), and the rest have been attributed to him, although no proof ever emerged to confirm this. Baldwin was asked by Playboy editor Walter Lowe to cover the trial, and so he did.
Which is why the first thing to mention is that it helps if you already know the basic details of the case, because Baldwin – perhaps unsurprisingly – approached this as a literary social critique, not a straight journalism piece. Consequently, his interest lies not so much in the case itself but the overall context in which it was happening – not only America’s racist history in general, but the context of Atlanta itself, a self-styled cosmopolitan city of the “New South” trying to show it was separate from the rest of Georgia in terms of racial progress – yet “the city too busy to hate”, even with a black mayor, a black police commissioner and black judges, still found itself beholden to the same systemic racism that plagues all of America.
That alone makes it worth reading in these days of #BlackLivesMatter and the resurgence of white supremacy, where a common tactic is to claim black-on-black crime is the bigger problem and that the police can’t be racist when there are black officers on the force. The reality is more complex, and here’s Baldwin explaining why all the way back in 1985 (and he wasn’t the first). Less tangentially, Baldwin reflects the feelings of many that the case against Williams wasn’t a slam-dunk, and that Williams was unfairly credited for the other murders – in a sense, just another victim of injustice (though Baldwin never flat-out proclaims Williams’ innocence).
People expecting a straight true-crime book may be frustrated with Baldwin’s ponderous, fragmented and meandering prose (and I’ll admit even I found it a bit frustrating at times). Nonetheless, it was a provocative read in 1985, and is no less provocative now. So it’ll probably be banned from Florida libraries soon (if it hasn’t been already), is what I'm saying.
Which is why the first thing to mention is that it helps if you already know the basic details of the case, because Baldwin – perhaps unsurprisingly – approached this as a literary social critique, not a straight journalism piece. Consequently, his interest lies not so much in the case itself but the overall context in which it was happening – not only America’s racist history in general, but the context of Atlanta itself, a self-styled cosmopolitan city of the “New South” trying to show it was separate from the rest of Georgia in terms of racial progress – yet “the city too busy to hate”, even with a black mayor, a black police commissioner and black judges, still found itself beholden to the same systemic racism that plagues all of America.
That alone makes it worth reading in these days of #BlackLivesMatter and the resurgence of white supremacy, where a common tactic is to claim black-on-black crime is the bigger problem and that the police can’t be racist when there are black officers on the force. The reality is more complex, and here’s Baldwin explaining why all the way back in 1985 (and he wasn’t the first). Less tangentially, Baldwin reflects the feelings of many that the case against Williams wasn’t a slam-dunk, and that Williams was unfairly credited for the other murders – in a sense, just another victim of injustice (though Baldwin never flat-out proclaims Williams’ innocence).
People expecting a straight true-crime book may be frustrated with Baldwin’s ponderous, fragmented and meandering prose (and I’ll admit even I found it a bit frustrating at times). Nonetheless, it was a provocative read in 1985, and is no less provocative now. So it’ll probably be banned from Florida libraries soon (if it hasn’t been already), is what I'm saying.
March 9, 2023
The Evidence of Things Not Seen by James Baldwin is a analysis of the crimes now known as “The Atlanta Child Murders” and the scene for this period set by failed integration. I am planning to do an annotated reread this summer!
This book was such a good reflection of the intersection of identity with crime and the legal section (both as a victim and perpetrator). He also offers general reflections on identity and history of black people in the city.
As a confessed “outsider” who isn’t from the south, he offers specific and astute observations of the victims, their families, the treatment of the crimes and the legal process.
Disclaimer: I received a gifted copy from the publisher
This book was such a good reflection of the intersection of identity with crime and the legal section (both as a victim and perpetrator). He also offers general reflections on identity and history of black people in the city.
As a confessed “outsider” who isn’t from the south, he offers specific and astute observations of the victims, their families, the treatment of the crimes and the legal process.
Disclaimer: I received a gifted copy from the publisher
February 10, 2023
I could listen to James Baldwin speak forever. The play between his mind and his mouth is a revelatory experience. This essay had its moments, and I was struck by his powers of language and perception many times. That said, the rhetorical sidebars, and metaphorical twists prevented this essay from really striking its target. The horror and misdirection of the Atlanta murders given to Baldwin should have provided a clear stage to present his case, but clarity was lost in the weeds.
January 28, 2023
James Baldwin always writes with a flare of lyricism; he constructs beautiful sentences with such poignant and poetic power that he makes everything a literary masterpiece. His control of the written word has always left me in awe. And his ability to elevate the most horrific and traumatic events into engaging and thought-provoking pieces of literature has guaranteed him eternal life and demands lasting respect. James Baldwin is a national treasure: a heroic role model and one of the greatest writers of the 20th century.
February 26, 2018
I thought the book was phenomenal. I see that many disagree.
But bravo to the editor that suggested that Baldwin take a trip down to Atlanta to write about the child killings and suspect (later convicted) Wayne Williams.
The details of the trial are, again and again, a launching point for Baldwin's jeremiads about race in America. If one is looking solely for a detailed analysis of the case- there is likely a better book. However, Baldwin's wide lens captures for those hoping to see complexities, a well-defended point. Perhaps Williams is guilty. Perhaps, in many ways, so are so many others of us.
He hits in a very short book on very many points. Why it is important that people say- "We aren't from Georgia, we are from Atlanta"? Why is it that no one takes the case seriously until a child visiting the south from the north is killed? What is the role of the media and the police? And, of course, what is the role of blackness created by white people in opposition to their own whiteness?
It turns out that Baldwin might be wrong in his instinct toward the case itself- now thirty-plus years later Williams seems certainly guilty (though he may not have acted alone). However, Baldwin might not be wrong about what brought America to the place where such a case needed not just to be tried but why such a crime could have occurred in the first place. We might not agree with all conclusions- but we should all read them.
But bravo to the editor that suggested that Baldwin take a trip down to Atlanta to write about the child killings and suspect (later convicted) Wayne Williams.
The details of the trial are, again and again, a launching point for Baldwin's jeremiads about race in America. If one is looking solely for a detailed analysis of the case- there is likely a better book. However, Baldwin's wide lens captures for those hoping to see complexities, a well-defended point. Perhaps Williams is guilty. Perhaps, in many ways, so are so many others of us.
He hits in a very short book on very many points. Why it is important that people say- "We aren't from Georgia, we are from Atlanta"? Why is it that no one takes the case seriously until a child visiting the south from the north is killed? What is the role of the media and the police? And, of course, what is the role of blackness created by white people in opposition to their own whiteness?
It turns out that Baldwin might be wrong in his instinct toward the case itself- now thirty-plus years later Williams seems certainly guilty (though he may not have acted alone). However, Baldwin might not be wrong about what brought America to the place where such a case needed not just to be tried but why such a crime could have occurred in the first place. We might not agree with all conclusions- but we should all read them.
June 25, 2019
Are you kidding me? Of course 5 stars. It's one of the finest minds of the twentieth century writing a true crime essay about the Atlanta Child Murders that incorporates psychobiography, the colonial history of Georgia, racist renting practices, and the performance of class. I underlined the entirety of every other paragraph. It's essential.
October 9, 2009
baldwin's overuse of parentheticals and commas distracted from and destroyed any fascination i had with- and more importantly, the coherency of- his message. he should have yelled it from the rooftops instead of drown it in poetry.
December 2, 2022
A captivating examination of the social forces affecting the investigation and prosecution of the Atlanta Child Murders of 1979-1981, and the 1982 conviction of Wayne Williams, reported by the acclaimed essayist, novelist, & playwright James Baldwin.
Looking at the actual crimes and the prosecution, Baldwin focuses on the fact that although Williams was tried and found guilty only for the murder of 2 adults at the time, he was "blamed" for 26 other murders of the "same pattern," even though the rest of the victims were children. The investigation and prosecution of the murders of those children were abandoned once Williams was found guilty.
I picked up this book in part because in 2019, Atlanta Mayor Keisha Lance Bottoms announced that officials would re-test evidence from the time. Another point Baldwin makes is that the testing of the evidence was shoddy & inconclusive, and expert testimony left out too much information - so the Atlanta Mayor should do what can be done, for the families, if nothing else.
Although Baldwin didn't know at the time that 3 people (who were young boys in 1980) gave statements later that Williams had solicited them, there was nevertheless plenty of reason to be suspicious and critical of how the case played out. For me, and for many people at the time and now, all of the details of the cases are difficult to hear, terribly sad, and totally frightening. Reading about the murders on Wikipedia is distressing for anyone. I don't know if Wayne Williams committed all the murders or not.
What is very clear is that Baldwin's description of the social forces is accurate, incisive, and damning - almost equally today as then. Several times in his discourse, he takes side-trips to other incidents, crimes, historical trends, etc., to illustrate the actual "pattern" and why - no matter the outcome of this trial or its re-trial - everyone should be asking themselves what is happening in our country.
The most significant points (for me) are stated so eloquently, I would like to quote Baldwin exactly:
I *feel* this so much right now - watching the skyrocketing disparity of wealth, and the cruel exploitation of emergency workers, teachers, and all service workers during the pandemic, which together served to exacerbate and lay bare the grotesque racial inequity that seems to be embedded in every law, bureaucratic procedure, and civic decision-making process.
Although in 1985, we all rightly feared a possible nuclear annihilation that seemed less likely every year since then, this statement is absolutely inarguable today. It's staggeringly true and irrefutable.
In most of the text, Baldwin is laying out a description of society (American & European) so warped by racism that people (leaders & people who might identify with the dominant culture, i.e. White people) are unable to burrow through the foundational lies and have lost any right to claim "moral authority" over anyone. But many of his examples, and his most clear and persuasive points (like the quotes above) seemed to me to be describing the root problems that caused the racism.
It left me wishing I could talk to Baldwin and find out more about what he guessed had twisted many human beings to be viciously profit-driven, greedy, and destructive, and many other human beings, less inclined to viciousness, to nevertheless enable them.
One other quote that really struck close to me;
This could easily describe me - the one hoping to salvage something; my good job serving the public (I'm a librarian), my cozy house, all the fresh fruits & vegetables I care to eat, fresh running hot & cold water, and all the various social services & infrastructure that I rely on. And I believe it also describes my two adult children, who seem to believe (at ages 24 & 27) that the world may implode, explode, melt, or overflow before they are my age - and therefore will never bring children into the world, and openly scoff at anyone who gets married or has children. It's not that my (privileged) children have nothing to lose right now, it's that they seem to believe that IF they worked to get anything more, it would only anchor them to a sinking ship, and they are ditching any entrapments as quickly as they float by them. They pursue their interests, find joy where it comes, but dedicate themselves wholly and completely to volunteer, mutual aide, and environmental or community service projects.
I am amazed by my children's generosity with their life's energy. I am totally self-centered in comparison. I have often thought of our differences, and whose tactics might be more likely to succeed in steering the world away from disaster (like a tiny NASA rocket hitting an asteroid, which happened last week). But in what way could I understand the "confrontation" between me (progressive liberal, anti-racist voter) and my children (anti-racist, anti-capitalist, nearly-anarchist) to be the "root and branch of the dilemma of this White Republic"? Does this mean every time I persuade them to accept a gift (fair trade, environmentally responsible) from me, I am tricking them into becoming enmeshed in an irreparably racist, exploitative, inhumane society? The peculiarity is that my children do not waste their time confronting me.
If my family is a micro-example of this confrontation, please tell the ghost of Baldwin there might be some hope - these white children are prepared to let go and have already let go in some ways of the comforts of their privilege. They dress as if they lived in poverty, their close friend groups include desperate people (homelessness, drug addiction), and they eschew almost all pop-culture participation. Could this "confrontation" be worth using as a model? If we focus on the "splendor of the human connection" as Baldwin suggested, as motivation to love our children & neighbors & fellow inhabitants of our city, could that be our path forward? I remember thinking the same thing while reading The Sum of Us: What Racism Costs Everyone and How We Can Prosper Together.
Baldwin looks with care at the families of the murdered children, and observes that the accused murderer and all the victims were all living in poverty or near-poverty. But this is no more of an explanation for why Williams (if he did murder children) got to be so twisted, than for why White capitalists got to be so twisted. The victims' poverty is indisputably why the City Administrators felt justified in abandoning their investigation - if integration had not decimated the Black middle class of Atlanta, as Baldwin describes, there may have been the social infrastructure to keep pressure on the City. Baldwin lays this out, but it takes several passages to piece it together - interrupted by asides, historical examples, etc. - but the point is that it's not just cash that matters, but influence, and Black influence in Atlanta and other cities (Baldwin posits) was undermined as soon as the nation chose the tactic of integration rather than desegregation.
In any case, in the loving appreciation of the children who died during that vicious murder spree, all the parents who try to raise & protect their children anywhere, and all the elders who try to guide those (sacred) children of the community (described better on page 17), Baldwin shows his loving kindness and larger spiritual sense;
The last dozen pages of the book left me confused and exhausted, but there is so much here that is clear and thought-provoking. If you have some days to ponder these issues, it's worth sifting through.
Looking at the actual crimes and the prosecution, Baldwin focuses on the fact that although Williams was tried and found guilty only for the murder of 2 adults at the time, he was "blamed" for 26 other murders of the "same pattern," even though the rest of the victims were children. The investigation and prosecution of the murders of those children were abandoned once Williams was found guilty.
I picked up this book in part because in 2019, Atlanta Mayor Keisha Lance Bottoms announced that officials would re-test evidence from the time. Another point Baldwin makes is that the testing of the evidence was shoddy & inconclusive, and expert testimony left out too much information - so the Atlanta Mayor should do what can be done, for the families, if nothing else.
Although Baldwin didn't know at the time that 3 people (who were young boys in 1980) gave statements later that Williams had solicited them, there was nevertheless plenty of reason to be suspicious and critical of how the case played out. For me, and for many people at the time and now, all of the details of the cases are difficult to hear, terribly sad, and totally frightening. Reading about the murders on Wikipedia is distressing for anyone. I don't know if Wayne Williams committed all the murders or not.
What is very clear is that Baldwin's description of the social forces is accurate, incisive, and damning - almost equally today as then. Several times in his discourse, he takes side-trips to other incidents, crimes, historical trends, etc., to illustrate the actual "pattern" and why - no matter the outcome of this trial or its re-trial - everyone should be asking themselves what is happening in our country.
The most significant points (for me) are stated so eloquently, I would like to quote Baldwin exactly:
"Man cannot live by profit alone. But the situation of Black Americans has been created and is dictated by this motive, and there is no other single detail of American life more revelatory of Americans and absolutely no level of American life it does not corrupt." (p. 31)
I *feel* this so much right now - watching the skyrocketing disparity of wealth, and the cruel exploitation of emergency workers, teachers, and all service workers during the pandemic, which together served to exacerbate and lay bare the grotesque racial inequity that seems to be embedded in every law, bureaucratic procedure, and civic decision-making process.
"This civilization has proven capable of destroying people rather than hear them, destroying continents rather than share them, and are equally capable, for the same reason, of destroying all life on this planet." (p.91)
Although in 1985, we all rightly feared a possible nuclear annihilation that seemed less likely every year since then, this statement is absolutely inarguable today. It's staggeringly true and irrefutable.
In most of the text, Baldwin is laying out a description of society (American & European) so warped by racism that people (leaders & people who might identify with the dominant culture, i.e. White people) are unable to burrow through the foundational lies and have lost any right to claim "moral authority" over anyone. But many of his examples, and his most clear and persuasive points (like the quotes above) seemed to me to be describing the root problems that caused the racism.
It left me wishing I could talk to Baldwin and find out more about what he guessed had twisted many human beings to be viciously profit-driven, greedy, and destructive, and many other human beings, less inclined to viciousness, to nevertheless enable them.
One other quote that really struck close to me;
"The confrontation between that person who must believe that there is something to be salvaged and that person who has been compelled to act on the assumption that he has nothing to lose, is the root and branch of the dilemma of this White Republic.
This could easily describe me - the one hoping to salvage something; my good job serving the public (I'm a librarian), my cozy house, all the fresh fruits & vegetables I care to eat, fresh running hot & cold water, and all the various social services & infrastructure that I rely on. And I believe it also describes my two adult children, who seem to believe (at ages 24 & 27) that the world may implode, explode, melt, or overflow before they are my age - and therefore will never bring children into the world, and openly scoff at anyone who gets married or has children. It's not that my (privileged) children have nothing to lose right now, it's that they seem to believe that IF they worked to get anything more, it would only anchor them to a sinking ship, and they are ditching any entrapments as quickly as they float by them. They pursue their interests, find joy where it comes, but dedicate themselves wholly and completely to volunteer, mutual aide, and environmental or community service projects.
I am amazed by my children's generosity with their life's energy. I am totally self-centered in comparison. I have often thought of our differences, and whose tactics might be more likely to succeed in steering the world away from disaster (like a tiny NASA rocket hitting an asteroid, which happened last week). But in what way could I understand the "confrontation" between me (progressive liberal, anti-racist voter) and my children (anti-racist, anti-capitalist, nearly-anarchist) to be the "root and branch of the dilemma of this White Republic"? Does this mean every time I persuade them to accept a gift (fair trade, environmentally responsible) from me, I am tricking them into becoming enmeshed in an irreparably racist, exploitative, inhumane society? The peculiarity is that my children do not waste their time confronting me.
If my family is a micro-example of this confrontation, please tell the ghost of Baldwin there might be some hope - these white children are prepared to let go and have already let go in some ways of the comforts of their privilege. They dress as if they lived in poverty, their close friend groups include desperate people (homelessness, drug addiction), and they eschew almost all pop-culture participation. Could this "confrontation" be worth using as a model? If we focus on the "splendor of the human connection" as Baldwin suggested, as motivation to love our children & neighbors & fellow inhabitants of our city, could that be our path forward? I remember thinking the same thing while reading The Sum of Us: What Racism Costs Everyone and How We Can Prosper Together.
Baldwin looks with care at the families of the murdered children, and observes that the accused murderer and all the victims were all living in poverty or near-poverty. But this is no more of an explanation for why Williams (if he did murder children) got to be so twisted, than for why White capitalists got to be so twisted. The victims' poverty is indisputably why the City Administrators felt justified in abandoning their investigation - if integration had not decimated the Black middle class of Atlanta, as Baldwin describes, there may have been the social infrastructure to keep pressure on the City. Baldwin lays this out, but it takes several passages to piece it together - interrupted by asides, historical examples, etc. - but the point is that it's not just cash that matters, but influence, and Black influence in Atlanta and other cities (Baldwin posits) was undermined as soon as the nation chose the tactic of integration rather than desegregation.
In any case, in the loving appreciation of the children who died during that vicious murder spree, all the parents who try to raise & protect their children anywhere, and all the elders who try to guide those (sacred) children of the community (described better on page 17), Baldwin shows his loving kindness and larger spiritual sense;
"...it is precisely our irreplaceability, uniqueness, mortality, that is the splendor of the human connection. That isolation and death are certain and universal clarifies our responsibility." (. 52)
The last dozen pages of the book left me confused and exhausted, but there is so much here that is clear and thought-provoking. If you have some days to ponder these issues, it's worth sifting through.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
May 15, 2024
Meticulous reporting by Mr. Baldwin in the wake of unspeakable headline grabbing horrors in the South. He reasons with a broad understanding that in the legal system, justice is rarely blind— and when it comes to certain groups of people, it’s often not fair (see current day happenings in the news re: multiple circumstances of contempt of court while rich and White vs. this story)
“It’s terribly boring to have to say it—again—but it is the White flight and not the Black arrival that alters, or demolishes, property values.”
“The real meaning and history of Manifest Destiny, for example, is nothing less than calculated and deliberate genocide. But Americans love Folie, which has seduced American history into a radiant stupor, transforms the slaughter into a heroic legend.“
“If I write you a letter, for example, I am trying to tell you something or ask you something—whatever the message, it can be, finally, only myself, hoping to be delivered. If I speak to you, I want you to hear me—to hear me—and to see me. Speech and language, however ceremonious, complex, and convoluted, are a way of revealing one’s nakedness; and this revelation is, really, our only human hope. But this hope is strangled if one, or both of us, is lying.”
“History is a hymn to White people, who may or may not (they suppose) permit us to enter history.”
“And, furthermore, we were not so much permitted to enter the church as corralled into it, as a means of rendering us docile and as a means of forcing us to corroborate the inscrutable will of God, Who had decreed that we should be slaves forever.”
“It’s terribly boring to have to say it—again—but it is the White flight and not the Black arrival that alters, or demolishes, property values.”
“The real meaning and history of Manifest Destiny, for example, is nothing less than calculated and deliberate genocide. But Americans love Folie, which has seduced American history into a radiant stupor, transforms the slaughter into a heroic legend.“
“If I write you a letter, for example, I am trying to tell you something or ask you something—whatever the message, it can be, finally, only myself, hoping to be delivered. If I speak to you, I want you to hear me—to hear me—and to see me. Speech and language, however ceremonious, complex, and convoluted, are a way of revealing one’s nakedness; and this revelation is, really, our only human hope. But this hope is strangled if one, or both of us, is lying.”
“History is a hymn to White people, who may or may not (they suppose) permit us to enter history.”
“And, furthermore, we were not so much permitted to enter the church as corralled into it, as a means of rendering us docile and as a means of forcing us to corroborate the inscrutable will of God, Who had decreed that we should be slaves forever.”
March 12, 2021
Most directly, this is Baldwin's response to the Atlanta child murders, and more to the point, what he argues is the attempt by the Atlanta establishment to put the murders behind them by rushing the (in Baldwin's mind) flawed prosecution of Wayne Williams.
More broadly, this book has some brilliant analysis of U.S. history, colonization, and the role of race in the history of imperialism.
That said, it can be a difficult read, as Baldwin often goes into intricate details of the Williams court case assuming knowledge of said case on the part of the reader, with detailed descriptions of people and parties and evidence from the case without much historical explanation of that case. It was obviously written to the public of its time, which likely would have been more familiar with these particulars.
However, the broader analysis and critique that shines through definitely makes it worth the read.
More broadly, this book has some brilliant analysis of U.S. history, colonization, and the role of race in the history of imperialism.
That said, it can be a difficult read, as Baldwin often goes into intricate details of the Williams court case assuming knowledge of said case on the part of the reader, with detailed descriptions of people and parties and evidence from the case without much historical explanation of that case. It was obviously written to the public of its time, which likely would have been more familiar with these particulars.
However, the broader analysis and critique that shines through definitely makes it worth the read.
February 24, 2023
I think this book—book-length essay, actually—cries out for an editor. But who would edit Baldwin as effectively as he digresses? Maybe better to say that each paragraph hits hard and that certain passages hit harder than that. The overall focus on the Atlanta child murders and Wayne Williams could be more concise, but Baldwin’s interpretation and analysis—not really reportage—draws on so many elements of the Black experience of White exploitation, that who’s to say which passage will hit each reader the hardest?
The most immediate section to me (today) is his discussion of Black policing—chilling and prescient in the wake of the Tyre Nichols murder. But everything is so swirled together that I wouldn’t know what to cut to make certain ideas stand out. How could I lose even the discussions of Death in Venice or Dick Gregory? Baldwin’s world view is so complete and his passion and care ( and humility, and fairness) so vivid, that I will take the dizziness of too-much to get the gleams of insight and genius.
This edition has an excellent intro by Stacey Abrams that shows that the discussion of guilt and justice in the case isn’t over, 35 years later.
The most immediate section to me (today) is his discussion of Black policing—chilling and prescient in the wake of the Tyre Nichols murder. But everything is so swirled together that I wouldn’t know what to cut to make certain ideas stand out. How could I lose even the discussions of Death in Venice or Dick Gregory? Baldwin’s world view is so complete and his passion and care ( and humility, and fairness) so vivid, that I will take the dizziness of too-much to get the gleams of insight and genius.
This edition has an excellent intro by Stacey Abrams that shows that the discussion of guilt and justice in the case isn’t over, 35 years later.
March 23, 2023
"The present social and political apparatus cannot serve human need. It is this apprehension that ferments in multitudes today, looking at the bodies of their menaced and uselessly slaughtered children, all over this world, in Atlanta, and from sea to shining sea. Do not misunderstand what I know can easily be read merely as an accusation. I do not have the European (or provincial) liberty to write J'Accuse. (Think about it.) This is the only nation under heaven that contains the universe—east and west, north and south, black and white. This is the only nation in the world that can hope to liberate—to begin to liberate—mankind from the strangling idea of the national idea and the tyranny of the territorial dispute. I know this sounds remote, now, and that I will not live to see anything resembling this hope come to pass. Yet, I know that I have seen it—in fire and blood and anguish, true, but I have seen it."
September 15, 2020
I was in 1st grade in Atlanta when the child murders were going on and have specific memories about adult conversations about it and of parents at the bus stops watching the kids get on the bus safely. When I found out that Baldwin had written about the child murders and the subsequent trial, it seemed like the perfect Baldwin to pick up next. His writing is always powerful -- but at times it felt like he drifted between writing about the specific crime/trial and writing about bigger issues of race and justice in America. I think it would have been better as 2 distinct pieces. That being said, Baldwin is an exceptional writer and he always makes me think.
May 10, 2020
Read this in conjunction with watching the HBO series, Atlanta’s Missing and Murdered Children. Baldwin is brilliant, and at some points in this wildly digressive book, breathtaking. The series is very very good.
February 6, 2023
I feel fairly safe in saying that this book will not be welcomed into school libraries in either Florida or Texas. There is too much truth in it.
This is not James Baldwin's best writing. It seems like he wrote it stream-of-conscious and didn't bother to go back and make it readable. It jumps around all over the place (Atlanta to South Africa to New York City to . . .) and it's the reader who must put the message together.
Despite that, it's worth reading!
This is not James Baldwin's best writing. It seems like he wrote it stream-of-conscious and didn't bother to go back and make it readable. It jumps around all over the place (Atlanta to South Africa to New York City to . . .) and it's the reader who must put the message together.
Despite that, it's worth reading!
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