Friday, Apr. 22, 1966

Watts with View

Marin City, nestled in a wooded hollow the size of Monaco, sounds like a developer's dream. Only 20 minutes from San Francisco across the Golden Gate Bridge, the community (pop. 1,600) is bestirred by cool coastal breezes and blessed with one of America's most entrancing views--the shimmering, misty Bay. Yet despite its setting, Marin City is as profoundly troubled a community as Watts or Harlem.

It has long been predominantly Negro. Built in 1942 for workers at a nearby shipyard, Marin City was abandoned at war's end by most of its white population. The Negroes who remained soon found themselves isolated by both geography and discrimination. Those who ventured elsewhere in Marin County were often asked by sheriff's deputies: "What are you doing out of Marin City?" Even today, the town has no restaurants or bars, and its many school dropouts find little else to do but hang around Marin City's lone, ramshackle variety store. The unemployment rate has climbed to a staggering 51.3% (v. 37% in Watts).

Frustration has spawned violence. Negro youths last year burned the sheriff's substation nearest Marin City, hailed rocks and gasoline bombs on patrolling deputies. In a flare-up this month, several buildings were set ablaze and responding firemen pelted with rocks. During a meeting at which Negroes voiced their grievances, County Administrator Alan Bruce, a white man, declared: "Whitey is beginning to understand why he is hated so much."

Integrated Idyl. Actually, Bruce and other county officials have worked imaginatively to remove the causes of Negro resentment. The county established a human-rights commission two years ago, held race-relations courses for sheriff's deputies, pledged funds for a Marin City community center. Most of the town's 1,500 jerry-built wartime housing units have been torn down, and officials are making a start at finding jobs for Negro youths. What has lifted hopes highest, however, is Marin City's unique "reverse integration" campaign to attract non-Negro residents.

As a starter, private developers have built 184 dwellings ranging from bright, $35-a-month apartments to two-story, $25,000 hillside homes. About 30 white and Oriental families have already bought in--most of them, according to Agent Edward W. Moose, "people who believe in interracial housing and feel the price is right." Shops, schools and recreation facilities will be added to service a population expected to surpass 3,500 by 1969. The goal: to transform Marin City from a microcosm of big-city racial woes into an integrated community befitting its idyllic setting. "If we can't do it here," says Byron Leydecker, chairman of the county supervisors, "we can't do it anywhere."

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