My Rosa Parks story

Rosa Parks, who ignited the Montgomery, Ala., bus boycott in 1955 when she refused to give up her seat to a white man, will lie in state tomorrow and Monday in Washington, D.C., before she is buried.

Ms. Parks -- an otherwise ordinary citizen whose small act of civil disobedience led to much a much bigger act of civil disobedience that focused the country's attention on an even greater pattern of injustice -- appropriately has been lionized since her passing.

As for me, I never hear the name of Rosa Parks without harkening back to my salad days as a newspaperman and my introduction to the ways of petty office politics and oneupmanship.

For a time, I was the day assignment editor at a major metropolitan newspaper in Houston that is no longer in business. I would decide what stories we would cover for the next day's editions. It was a pretty fun job, for a while, because it gave you a real hand in shaping the content of the newspaper. Moreover, it removed me from the ranks of the general assignment reporters pool, where you were placed at the mercy of every dumbass, non-newsworthy assignment that came down the pike.

Anyway, one morning a innocuous-looking press release came across the desk that announced Rosa Parks would be in Houston that day. This could be good, I figured, knowning that the "big editors" always jumped at the chance to write something positive about the African-American community, since they were clueless about what went on in the African-American community, which was always annoyed that the only time an African-American ever got mentioned in the paper was in connection with some heinous crime.

I put the story on the daily budget and assigned a reporter.

The city editor, a smarmy, mustachioed guy who had an annoying habit of tugging at his crotch because (apparently) his underwear was too tight, came in later that morning, looked over the story budget I was putting together and asked with a puzzled look, "Who's Rosa Parks?"

I informed him. The reporter did a good job on the interview and we got a good photo of Ms. Parks.

At the budget meeting, where all the editors of the various departments gathered to pitch their stories, one of the big editors known as "Stretch" reacted just as I thought he would. He was going to give a story a good ride -- prominent display on the local section front.

"I like the Rosa Parks story," he said to the city editor as the budget meeting was breaking up.

"Yeah," the city editor said nonchalantly. "It was my idea."

I imagine my mouth flew open and my eyes narrowed, but I can't be sure. I didn't say a word, rationalizing that it wasn't worth making an issue of and, besides, it wasn't like it was a brilliant original idea; I merely happened to take note of a press release and made sure the reporter knew it would be a story the editors would like.

Still, I can never hear the name of Rosa Parks without thinking back to the pettiness of office politics and the jackasses who engage in it.

Rest in peace, Rosa.


[legacy.com]