June 1st Whitey
The following is a reprint from a year ago. I received several comments on it so I decided to print it again
If the above title of this column rings a bell, you’re probably over 65 years of age and a native Buffalonian, raised on the Eastside. For a moment in time the phrase “June 1st Whitey,” was an ominous pledge of racial upheaval for 1968. Perhaps I need to explain. The term’s origin was inspired from Buffalo’s June 26–28, 1967 riots that rocked the Eastside, primarily on Jefferson Ave.
The catalyst of the riot is said to have been started when roving gangs of teenagers were confronted by heavy handed police that tried to disperse the crowds. This escalated to a two-night, full-scale riot, which included assailing the police, hooliganism, looting and arson. The governor had to call in the National Guard to restore order. Even baseball legend Jackie Robinson came to town to meet with Mayor Sedita to help quell the situation.
At the end of the day, over 70 were injured; several from gunshot wounds, hundreds arrested and millions in property damage devastated Jefferson Ave. commerce forever. It was later reported that there were several unknow men in the mob who were characterized as primary cheerleaders who instigated the violence.
Conspiracy theorists like me believe they were paid provocateurs, who were sent to start a riot. Interestingly, Buffalo was one of over 150 U.S. cities that experienced riots during what is infamously known as the “Long Hot Summer” of 1967. Soon after the Buffalo riots, spray painted graffiti signs started appearing on building and walls throughout the community saying, “June 1st Whitey.”
Everyone understood it as a threat of more violence to come next June of 1968. For a year everyone was wondering and predicting what was going to happen on June 1. When it finally arrived schools were cancelled, the National Guard was on standby and the city police were in full riot ready gear, complete with helmets and blackjacks. Their squad car windshields had strips of tape on them to prevent rocks from shattering their windshields.
June 1st came and it turned out to be a big “nothingburger.” Nothing happened. Yet it left an indelible memory on me of a moment in time growing up on the Eastside. The 1967 Riots was the death nail of Jefferson Ave. The white businesses which constituted most of Jefferson Ave. commerce made a beeline to the suburbs and “white flight” out the city took off like a 747 jet. I will always believe the riots were planned to destroy the city.