James Jacobsen wrote:
I heard first hand that before the 1954 major civil rights activities, in Southern cities there was harmony between the whites and blacks, a lot of blacks had domestic work jobs with the whites, the blacks and whites circulated amongst each other and all went well, no crime problems, everyone got along.
EE-P: When I first read this post on Thursday, I was shocked that Mr. Jacobsen really believed what he had heard from a firsthand account of life in the South. I was immediately thrown back to some not too pleasant memories of my childhood days in Houston, Texas. I decided to offer him another first hand account of harmony!?! in the South to add to his first hand account list.
First for some context: I was born in Houston, Texas in 1946, moved to North Minneapolis with my mother and 2 brothers in 1960, attended Minneapolis Public Schools (Lincoln Junior High, North High Grad - 1964), mother of 5 adult children (3 of whom are sons) and although I am a member of the Human Race, my ethnic heritage is from Africa.
I remember well the Presidential Election of 1952. I was six years old and very much liked the motto: I like Ike. My folks, however, had already discussed and agreed that they would be voting the Democratic ticket and for Adali Stevenson. By then, the "whites only" primary was just about over in Texas but there still were plenty of rules that Black folks had to endure just to vote. My mother and father were a civic minded couple and they believed in voting. My father decided that he wanted his first child (me) to understand the importance of voting, so he decided I should go with him and my mother to the voting place. We arrived and of course, there were separate voting lines for "whites and coloreds." We lined up in the colored line and began the long wait and examination for entrance. It seemed as though "coloreds" were not admitted as quickly whites" and the examination took longer, so it took quite awhile.
When we finally did get to the entrance of the door, my father was told that it was a rule that only 2 coloreds could be in the room at one time. My father responded that surely a six year girl could accompany her parents into the room, but he was refused. He then asked my mother and the person behind him to go in together. I waited with him until they came out and then went in with him so he could cast his vote for Adali Stevenson. Needless to say, the other voting place stood empty while my father voted. As we left the room, the man who refused to let us all come in together remarked to his co-worker, "I don't know why that boy (my father was 41 at the time) wants that little pickaninny to see the inside of a voting place anyway." My father ignored him and as we joined my mother outside told me that no matter what you have to go through, vote to help ensure that you will have some basic human rights some day.
Later, during another Presidential election time frame (preparing for the 1960 election after Eisenhower's two terms), Lyndon Johnson was on the ticket with John Kennedy. He told the state of Texas that he intended to show America that Texans really knew how to integrate schools. He announced that he would begin integration with the high schools and work backwards to elementary schools. I remember my mother remarked that was backwards - why not start with the younger children and have them (and their families) grow up with integration. Of course, the senior high families pitched a fit, saying that they did not want their children going to school with n______s. My mother decided that she would relocate so that her children would not be pawns in what she saw as a flawed plan.
In summary, my first hand experience as a Black Child in the South:
1. separate water fountains (I remember wondering why the grocery store had separate water fountains, but did not have separate check out stations where everyone's money was the same color)
2. riding on the back of the bus,
3. not being able to visit my father at his job because Blacks were not allowed free access to that particular building downtown
4. sitting in the balcony at the movies (isn't it ironical that I watched the movie Imitation of Life – where a Black girl who looked White and tragically/futilely tried to pass as White – in the balcony of the movie theater because that was the only place I could sit)
5. Regularly had to listen to derogatory terms thrown at my family
Mr. Jacobsen wrote:
The story is pertinant as a lesson to Minneapolis, as if some of the activist crowd read of it they might gain a much less abrasive and more successful manner of dealing with whatever issues they have and the city would be a more easily governed community and lots more congenial place for everyone to live.
EE-P: During the 1950s, the South referred to Minnesota as place where there was no prejudice (the term racism was not frequently used then), and so my mother decided to try another place and we relocated. Imagine our shock to discover that prejudice and racism was alive and well in Minneapolis. When we arrived, we quickly learned that there were unwritten but widely practiced rules that did not make it easy for Blacks to own or rent above Girard Avenue. When I learned there was actually a Black family living on Queen Avenue in 1961, I wondered how that had happened.
Mr. Jacobsen wrote:
The people carping about rascism are the ones who know and have thought little of the background of it all. Having read a lot of the histories, when I see people here and now in Minneapolis who think they still are fighting the civil war, I am not charmed.
EE-P: I can state that here in Minneapolis all members in my family (including me) have been victims of racism, especially racial profiling (all of my sons, my husband, my brothers have experienced unwarranted police stops –even my 9 year old son being stopped by the police and asked if he had stolen his new, bright red bike; loss control staff in stores following us around department stores; unfair treatment while riding school buses). I have often wondered why when an African American person is described, the description is often prefaced by “she's a Black mother or he's a Black kid or that Black man or the Black family in the green house.”
Mr. Jacobsen – the war against racism continues not only in the South, but in this Minnesota Nice Northern City!
Emily Nancy Ero-Phillips
Ward 5 – Willard Hay
A Northsider by choice
