This book offers an original and rounded examination of the origin and sociological contributions of one of the most significant, yet continuously ignored, programs of social science research ever established in the United States: the Atlanta Sociological Laboratory. Under the leadership of W.E.B. Du Bois, this unit at Atlanta University made extensive contributions to the discipline which, as the author demonstrates, extend beyond 'race studies' to include founding the first American school of sociology, establishing the first program of urban sociological research, conducting the first sociological study on religion in the United States, and developing methodological advances that remain in use today. However, all of these accomplishments have subsequently been attributed, erroneously, to White sociologists at predominately White institutions, while the Atlanta Sociological Laboratory remains sociologically ignored and marginalized. Placing the achievements of the Du Bois led Atlanta Sociological Laboratory in context, the author contends that American Jim Crow racism and segregation caused the school to become marginalized and ignored instead of becoming recognized as one the most significant early departments of sociology in the United States. Illuminating the sociological activities - and marginalization - of a group of African American scholars from a small African American institution of higher learning in the Deep South - whose works deserve to be canonized alongside those of their late nineteenth and early twentieth century peers - this book will appeal to all scholars with interests in the history of sociology and its development as a discipline, race and ethnicity, research methodology, the sociology of the south, and urban sociology.

Atlanta is often cited as a prime example of a progressive New South metropolis in which blacks and whites have forged "a city too busy to hate." But Ronald Bayor argues that the city continues to bear the indelible mark of racial bias. Offering the first

For more than a century, the city of Atlanta has been associated with black achievement in education, business, politics, media, and music, earning it the nickname "the black Mecca." Atlanta's long tradition of black education dates back to Reconstruction, and produced an elite that flourished in spite of Jim Crow, rose to leadership during the civil rights movement, and then took power in the 1970s by building a coalition between white progressives, business interests, and black Atlantans. But as Maurice J. Hobson demonstrates, Atlanta's political leadership--from the election of Maynard Jackson, Atlanta's first black mayor, through the city's hosting of the 1996 Olympic Games--has consistently mishandled the black poor. Drawn from vivid primary sources and unnerving oral histories of working-class city-dwellers and hip-hop artists from Atlanta's underbelly, Hobson argues that Atlanta's political leadership has governed by bargaining with white business interests to the detriment of ordinary black Atlantans. In telling this history through the prism of the black New South and Atlanta politics, policy, and pop culture, Hobson portrays a striking schism between the black political elite and poor city-dwellers, complicating the long-held view of Atlanta as a mecca for black people.

Clark Atlanta University Whitney M. Young Jr. School of Social Work was founded in 1920 in Atlanta, Georgia, as the Atlanta School of Social Work to prepare social workers for practice in underserved black neighborhoods. Spearheaded by black scholars and progressive whites during an era of racial segregation, 2020 marks its centennial as the first accredited social work program at a historically black college and university. In this book, social work professor Alma J. Carten describes the School's transitions from its beginnings amid the pervasive racism sanctioned by Supreme Court rulings in the Dred Scott and Plessy v. Ferguson cases, through the decades of 20th century progressive civil rights reforms, and into the new conservatism of the 21st century. Referencing archival documents, Carten illustrates the School's commitment to the democratic principles of the profession despite the blatant racism of the segregated South and the less visible structural inequalities following desegregation from which mainstream social work education was not immune. The book describes the influence of iconic thought leaders on the School's culture and academic programs, beginning with Jesse O. Thomas's speech on the need for a black school of social work, given from the segregated section of the 1920 National Conference on Social Work; and including W.E.B. DuBois' Atlanta University Studies that pioneered the model of social progress powered by science; E. Franklin Frazier and Forrester B. Washington, who championed "black social work" and the integration of race critical content in the curriculum of all schools; and Whitney M. Young, Jr., who chastised social workers for their waning interest in advocacy for marginalized populations and encouraged them to become politically active. Carten examines the evolution of the School within the context of changes in US social welfare policy, CSWE accrediting standards, and NASW Code of Ethics. Highly readable, the book brings to light the under-reported contributions of HBCU social work programs to social work education, and it thoughtfully engages with the School's efforts to legitimize the Afrocentric perspective and the humanistic values embraced by HBCU social work programs.

From the memories of everyday experience, Living Atlanta vividly recreates life in the city during the three decades from World War I through World War II--a period in which a small, regional capital became a center of industry, education, finance, commerce, and travel. This profusely illustrated volume draws on nearly two hundred interviews with Atlanta residents who recall, in their own words, "the way it was"--from segregated streetcars to college fraternity parties, from moonshine peddling to visiting performances by the Metropolitan Opera, from the growth of neighborhoods to religious revivals. The book is based on a celebrated public radio series that was broadcast in 1979-80 and hailed by Studs Terkel as "an important, exciting project--a truly human portrait of a city of people." Living Atlanta presents a diverse array of voices--domestics and businessmen, teachers and factory workers, doctors and ballplayers. There are memories of the city when it wasn't quite a city: "Back in those young days it was country in Atlanta," musician Rosa Lee Carson reflects. "It sure was. Why, you could even raise a cow out there in your yard." There are eyewitness accounts of such major events as the Great Fire of 1917: "The wind blowing that way, it was awful," recalls fire fighter Hugh McDonald. "There'd be a big board on fire, and the wind would carry that board, and it'd hit another house and start right up on that one. And it just kept spreading." There are glimpses of the workday: "It's a real job firing an engine, a darn hard job," says railroad man J. R. Spratlin. "I was using a scoop and there wasn't no eight hour haul then, there was twelve hours, sometimes sixteen." And there are scenes of the city at play: "Baseball was the popular sport," remembers Arthur Leroy Idlett, who grew up in the Pittsburgh neighborhood. "Everybody had teams. And people--you could put some kids out there playing baseball, and before you knew a thing, you got a crowd out there, watching kids play." Organizing the book around such topics as transportation, health and religion, education, leisure, and politics, the authors provide a narrative commentary that places the diverse remembrances in social and historical context. Resurfacing throughout the book as a central theme are the memories of Jim Crow and the peculiarities of black-white relations. Accounts of Klan rallies, job and housing discrimination, and poll taxes are here, along with stories about the Commission on Interracial Cooperation, early black forays into local politics, and the role of the city's black colleges. Martin Luther King, Sr., historian Clarence Bacote, former police chief Herbert Jenkins, educator Benjamin Mays, and sociologist Arthur Raper are among those whose recollections are gathered here, but the majority of the voices are those of ordinary Atlantans, men and women who in these pages relive day-to-day experiences of a half-century ago.