PAUL SCHRAG: A GONZO ADVENTURE THROUGH ONE OF TACOMA'S MOST MISUNDERSTOOD SCHOOLS >>>

The first time I went to Lincoln High School I saw six people of color in an audience of about 200. Also in attendance were 10 cops, 15 city administrators and at least a dozen people who looked like they belonged in a late-era Old Navy commercial. You know, dancing in the sun on a grassy hill somewhere, all smiles and spinning.

The gathering was called to provide an update on efforts to clean up the neighborhood surrounding Lincoln High School, among others. One after another, caring citizens wandered up to the front of the Drost Auditorium, a triumph of English Gothic architecture and an ironically appropriate aesthetic for this particular audience. One after another, these caring citizens told stories of how they were cleaning up crime, getting rid of trash, expelling ne’er-do-wells, and generally making the neighborhoods surrounding Lincoln habitable. These particular inhabitants were full of frontier bluster â€" well-pressed pioneers taking on the ghetto, blazing a trail, making things right. Soon enough, they promised, the streets would be safe. The parks would be safe. The schools would be safe. One made a reference to “getting rid of the people we don’t want.” To whom she was referring is hard to imagine. They probably wouldn’t make it in an Old Navy commercial though. Everything would be safe one day, they ensured the audience, just like the suburbs. Just a few more community clean-ups, a few more block watch programs, a few more picketing rallies against panhandlers, gangs and drug dealers.

One group â€" cleverly named the Lincoln LAWGS â€" was represented by a recent transplant from a suburban community I don’t remember. I was too busy admiring his sweater and khakis to scratch that detail on my pad. He had all of the vitality of an old piece of organic broccoli, and he spoke with the authority of a bank teller. I don’t really remember much of what he said. But I remember the feeling I was left with and the feelings I wasn’t.

Disappointment? Check. Confusion about the absence of people of color? Check. Safe? Not really. Hope? Nope.

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