In S.C., One Road Divides Two Ways of Thinking

Views on Obama, and Race, Hold Firm

ORANGEBURG, S.C. -- The Bolen and Elmore homes, three blocks apart in opposite directions off Columbia Road in this small city, could not seem more alike. Both are simple brick ranch-style houses occupied by retired couples, the men former police officers, who spend hours a day in dark dens where cigarette smoke wafts beneath the whirl of ceiling fans.

Inside the hush of these rooms, however, their differences become clear. Columbia Road is a long and narrow country highway that serves as the border between the congressional districts of Rep. Joe Wilson, a white Republican who heckled President Obama during a speech, and Rep. James E. Clyburn, Capitol Hill's top-ranking black Democrat, who led the House vote to punish Wilson for it.

Along Columbia Road, and throughout Wilson's and Clyburn's districts, race has long been an inescapable topic of debate. And as Wilson's outburst brought the issue back to the surface, residents here voiced both divergent and hardened opinions. Their emotions are raw, even if cloaked in Southern gentility and graciousness.

The Bolens have seven antique miniature wooden grandfather clocks hanging on their wall. Their den is decorated with metal trinkets and classic Coca-Cola memorabilia. They said they could not bring themselves to watch Obama's health-care address on their 60-inch Magnavox because they think he is a liar. They live west of Columbia Road, in an area represented by Wilson, and they are white.

"Joe Wilson apologized to the president, and the president accepted it. My God, give me a break. I'm sick of this racism stuff," said Barbara Bolen, 66, a retired textile factory manager. "Oh, and Jimmy Carter! I'm so mad about him calling it racism. I think that's awful."

The Elmores have a portrait of the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. hanging on their wall. Their den is sprinkled with Obama campaign souvenirs, including a card that reads "Yes We Did." They watched the president's speech together, but they have grown disillusioned, saying that the election of the first African American president has not transcended racial divisions, pointing to a summer of loud and angry opposition to Obama. They live east of Columbia Road, an area represented by Clyburn, and they are black.

"Everybody tries to say that it's merely because of the health care, but there is some underlying, you know, racism," said Joseph Elmore, 66. "The South has its way of covering up racism. They're not used to a black man running America. They're not used to a black man wielding that kind of power. You had 43 presidents who were white, and now you have a black one."

More than two dozen Orangeburg residents interviewed here last week -- white and black, rich and poor, doctors and lawyers and plumbers and biscuit bakers -- had varying opinions about the role of race in the opposition to Obama. Many were outspoken and shared the views of the Bolens or the Elmores, but some offered more nuanced thoughts.

Orangeburg lies at the heart of the Old South, a working-class, well-educated and heavily Democratic city in the South Carolina midlands. Blacks outnumber whites by about 2 to 1, and the subject of race still hovers over the sleepy historic downtown, where a monument to Confederate soldiers stands. In 1968, police here fired into a crowd of demonstrators protesting a segregated bowling alley, killing three unarmed black men and wounding 27 others in what became known as the Orangeburg Massacre.

But the city, home to two historically black colleges, has a youthful energy and is attracting businesses. At a fundraiser for the local technical college one evening, many of Orangeburg's well-to-do shushed away questions about race as they sipped fine wine and nibbled on scallops and lamb chops.

"I've known Joe for a long time, and I do not think there was any racism involved," said Brad Hutto, 52, a lawyer and Democratic state senator who is white, but is supported by both black and white voters.

But Linda Blume whispered in a corner that racist sentiments bubble up when she and other white women play bridge twice a month.