I was born in Philadelphia, PA in 1951. I went to a public school that was racially integrated and had a few friends who were Black. Because my maternal Grandmother who lived with us was a bigot (she hated Blacks, Italians, Poles, Chinese, Japanese, Jews, French, Germans - basically she hated anyone who was not a Protestant who could not trace their ancestry to England, Scotland or Wales), they couldn’t come to my house so I would go to theirs. Aside from her, I never saw much racial discrimination or bigotry until my mother and I went to Washington, D.C. in 1961 when I was touring in a play.
There I saw legalized racial discrimination for the first time - separate restrooms, separate water fountains, etc.
At the theater I was performing at, the Whites were on the ground floor and Blacks could only use the balcony. When we took the bus from the hotel to the theater, we sat in front, the Blacks sat in back and if all the seats were occupied and a White person got on the bus, one of the Black people was required by law to give them their seat.
Because I was making good money as a child performer in Broadway musicals and on local TV, my father was able to achieve his life-long dream of going to college and seminary and becoming an American Baptist Convention minister. While in seminary, he became friends with several of his classmates - including a young man named Martin Luther King and another young man named James Reeb.
My father also was the Scoutmaster of the Boy Scout Troop that my brother and I were members. One summer, our troop went to Treasure Island Scout Camp and my brother and I got to know a kid from New York, another Boy Scout named Mickey Schwerner.
On August 28, 1963, my family and I were on the Mall in Washington, D. C. listening to Martin’s “I have A Dream Speech”
In 1964, Mickey Schwerner and two other Civil Rights workers were killed by the Ku Klux Klan and their bodies buried in an earthen dam in Philadelphia, Mississippi.
Martin spoke with my Dad - and Dad, Mom, my brother and I went to Selma and marched for Civil Rights. On Bloody Sunday, March 7, 1965, all four of us were arrested
On March 11, 1965, Dad’s friend, James Reeb, who had become a Unitarian minister, was beaten to death by the Ku Klux Klan in Selma, Alabama.
On April 4, 1968, Martin was assassinated. Dad was one of the many clergy who spoke at his funeral.
Are things worse now?
Are things more violent now?
To be completely honest - I do not know.
Different - yes.
Better?
Worse?
I do not know.
