Fall 1965 was a time of great exuberance. The federal Voting Rights Act had just become effective in August. The barriers impeding black access to the polls throughout the South would have to drop. Just a year earlier, the Civil Rights Act had made it illegal everywhere in America to discriminate by race in employment, education or places of public accommodation.

Those who had risked the perils of the Civil Rights Movement were indeed elated, but those who had endured for decades the indignities of racial hostility and discrimination were disappointed. It might have seemed bizarre that urban riots would erupt when change was ostensibly at hand, but many blacks expected more. They wanted more than merely a change in the laws. Cordiality and respect would have mollified black anger, but that did not happen.

The Bay State Banner was born at a time of great hope in the midst of great turbulence. Race riots were erupting in the nation’s large cities. Watts exploded on August 11, 1965; followed by Hough (Cleveland) on July 18, 1966; Newark on July 12, 1967; and Detroit on July 23, 1967. Enactment of the Civil Rights Act and the Voting Rights Act clearly did not bring peace.

Segregationists had no intention of submitting to the new laws. The classic statement of that resistance was expressed by Gov. George Wallace in his inaugural speech in Alabama as the racial tide was beginning to turn — he declared “Segregation now, segregation tomorrow, segregation forever.” The consequence of this obstinacy was to force those advocating for racial equality to remain in a confrontational mode for a long time after the civil rights laws were passed. They could have been productively directing the social change that was to follow.

This imposed on the Bay State Banner a great responsibility to provide information and inspiration that would enable the people to take advantage of the changing laws and move ahead. The Banner’s original slogan was “Unity, progress, let’s do it ourselves.” Unfortunately, some people seemed to believe that the new laws would provide a direct benefit rather than simply remove an impediment to social and economic advancement.

The required journalistic approach was not always met with enthusiasm. Militants in the community wanted the Banner to be more editorially confrontational, even when it was clear that this strategy would not succeed. Constant futile attacks would weaken the stature of the Banner, even though there might be a temporary euphoric sense of having confronted the enemy. The most effective approach, then and now, is for the community to push for change and stand up for their rights with the Banner reporting the occasion. Unlike community weeklies, the Banner has always had to monitor relevant national issues as well.

Another major editorial function of the Banner from the very beginning was to rebut any defamation from the major media that was intended to marginalize the black community. Also, the Banner readily objected to public policies that disproportionately affected minorities adversely, although that might not have been the publicized objective.

A good example is Banner opposition to indiscriminate stop-and-frisk practices such as the policy in New York. At its frenzied peak in 2011, the New York City police made 685,724 stops, with 53 percent of the victims being black men and 34 percent being Latinos. Only 9 percent were white. This police strategy was so unsuccessful in uncovering criminal activity that police departments across the country, including Boston, have established restricting modifications. Young black victims of the policy became an angered group of adolescents.

Racial conflicts with the criminal justice system have generated considerable journalistic coverage from the Banner. “Driving while black” and efforts to curtail the police abuse have been a continuing subject. The growing incidence of the police shooting unarmed black men has generated a national protest movement — #BlackLivesMatter.

In the past, the major media have been less responsive to such protests and have accepted the police explanation of events; but now video cameras and technology have raised a question of police credibility.

The bias of the major media is well demonstrated by the different way they reported on the present illicit drug problem. Years ago, when the addicts were black and Latino, they were referred to as criminal reprobates. Now that suburban youth are overdosing in substantial numbers, it is clear that opiate abuse is primarily a white problem. Young adults are now referred to in the most sensitive manner and their addiction is considered a disease rather than the result of criminal degeneracy.

The news media have a greater role in determining the attitudes and prejudices of the public than is generally believed. The self-confidence of African Americans is often damaged by deprecating media coverage. People understand the negative and insulting tone of broadcasts, and if they have not been brought up in a family that has developed ways to protect against the negativity, it is all too easy to suffer a loss of self-worth.

Until America loses its racial bias, there will continue to be a need for the Bay State Banner and similar publications that are committed to truth and justice. The Banner will never mindlessly pursue a point of view just because it is most accepted by blacks. Sometimes the best result is colorless. That is where the Banner wants to be — within the aura of common sense.

Through the years the Banner has kept faith with its readers. In a 50-year span of time, the Banner has published about 2,600 issues. What follows is a brief account of some of the significant matters the newspaper has confronted in each of the five decades.

Melvin B. Miller
Publisher, Bay State Banner, 1965 – 2023