In 1963, my Dad took a vacation trip to see where he had been born. My Mom and Grandmother accompanied him on this trip. When my Dad returned home, he wrote about his experiences. Here is his story written in his own words.

OUR VACATION IN THE SOUTH

During the first week in July of this year, my wife and I had a route proposed to us at the public service desk at the Milwaukee Journal; we were going to take my sixty-three year old mother to visit her last sister who is a retired school teacher in a central Mississippi town.

As we studied the maps, we saw about twenty state parks listed on the map of the State of Tennessee for 1963; two of these were designated "Negro"; upon seeking an explanation of this "Negro" designation, we were told that this meant that these two parks were in honor of Negroes, and we should feel free to enjoy the public parks throughout the state. Later on our trip, we saw various premises and facilities conspicuously designated for Negroes � for example, rest rooms, toilets, and drinking fountains in courthouses. Were these also so designated for the purpose of honoring Negroes?

We left Milwaukee on the morning of July 18, 1963. We took Highway 15 to Rockford (where we took our first picture) and 51 to Memphis, Tennessee. Some people drive all day and all night until they reach their destinations in the south, because they do not feel free to travel in the South and enjoy the facilities along the way � the restaurants and the motels. I felt that this was no way to travel over long distances; those who do this endanger the lives of other motorists; and they miss the beauty of creation and conservation when they travel all night; and they are not physically fit to drive the next day. We stopped at a nice motel in Vandalia, Illinois; and at the Holiday Inn motel in Memphis, Tenn. Along the way, my mother who had been born and raised in Greenwood, Miss. � who had come to Milwaukee forty-four years ago, still has the fear and expectation in her heart of the average Negro who has been raised in the South. We argued much of the time going down and coming back. Because we are Negroes, she doubted that we would be accepted into the motels and restaurants. I had to fight against the depression she was trying to enforce on us, unwittingly. She would suggest that we sleep in the car on the highway. I constantly reminded her of how onery her son was by nature; and without a satisfying night of rest, I might be unbearable.

We stopped along the way to rest, eat our lunch and take pictures of the journey. In the southern part of the State of Illinois, we saw the first sign of racial segregation, which tried to tell us we were not as dignified, law-abiding, nor as clean as a white skinned person. This I refused to accept! I smiled when I saw my first sign in a county courthouse that said COLORED over one door to the men's toilet; and WHITE over another door. No one was around and the one designated COLORED was downstairs; so I used the one marked WHITE, which was upstairs on the main floor. Even this one was filthy. I wondered if it would not be better to have one clean toilet than two filthy ones.

WHITE LADIES in six-inch-high letters, was painted in red over an out-side door; COLORED WOMEN had been painted over another door. We saw signs like this at some filling stations where we bought gas too; this angered me! My dear mother kept telling me, " I told you it was like this." One toilet for COLORED MEN in Jackson, Miss., was really clean; but I still had a guilty conscience when I used it.

We crossed into Arkansas and took some pictures of WELCOME signs along the highway. Our hearts were thrilled as we entered the State of Mississippi; we got out of the car again and set up the delayed action mechanism on our 35 mm. camera; and we all stood in front of the signs of WELCOME and had our pictures taken.

We began to see many sharecroppers and their families; my mother rebelled every time I mentioned the misery and obvious deprivations with which these people were living. My mother said that God would punish me for talking the way I did; she even said that she was sorry she had brought me up North when I was two years old. But I know that if God loves anything, He loves truth and righteousness � right-doing; and what I was commenting on was the truth. I wondered how I would fare under such circumstances � even with as much faith as I think I have in Christ. Some people lived miles and miles from the nearest town and they had no car or telephone. I wondered what they did when they got sick; I supposed that these people had to be resourceful and self-reliant in order to survive. What hopes did they have for the future of their children?

I wondered how these families washed up after having worked in the dusty fields all day; I wondered how many hours they put in; I wondered how many times they had faced these realities and actually allowed themselves to think on these things � or were they like my mother who found it too unbearable even to talk about.

As we went though Clarksdale and entered Greenwood where I had been born, a thrill entered our hearts again; my mother was almost beside herself. She wanted to show me the street on which I had been born, and the church or the site of it, where she had gone to church as a girl. As we drove down a main street in a residential section of Greenwood, I saw a large Confederate flag hanging from one of the mansions. I had an American flag on my car where it had been since the July Fourth holiday. My mother had wanted me to take it off the car before we left Milwaukee; but I refused because I was proud to have the flag on display.

Outside the courthouse in Greenwood, there was an interesting monument from the Civil War. I wanted to read the inscription and take a picture with us standing beside it. My mother tried to discourage me and put fear or "sense" into my heart; but I refused to heed her. I parked the car in a parking place alongside the courthouse and read the inscription and set up the camera; I stood by this statue and took a picture. Then I saw two police drive up in a squad car; and I smiled and waved at them like I do here in Milwaukee. As I folded up my tripod and closed my camera, two policemen came running out of the courthouse with guns on their hips. (My mother afterwards told me that she had a sinking feeling in her stomach when she saw them come running up to me. Colored folks who have lived in the south seem to be used to police brutality against Negroes; perhaps this accounts for some of the hostility of some Negroes towards police up here in Milwaukee.)

I smiled and tried to be friendly towards these two police who had come running � as I try to do here in Milwaukee. In harsh language and tone of voice, they asked me what I was doing here; I told them I had just taken a picture of this monument. I was still smiling and trying to be friendly. They told me that I should have come and asked them, if I had wanted to take a picture of this monument; they called me a "Nigger", saying that I should not get fresh with them because they had a place to keep me; they said "niggers" must say "Yassuh" to white people down there. By this time, my blood was beginning to boil.

The two police were in the car at the curb; these two were insulting me; my wife and mother were sitting in our station wagon; and crowds were looking from across the street. These two police asked for the exposed film from my camera; they told me not to get smart because they had a mind to take my camera. I gave them the film from my camera on which I had paid taxes. They came over to where my wife and mother were sitting in the station wagon and questioned them; they threatened to search my station wagon.

An American flag was on display on my station wagon, along with some Bible verses about Jesus; and a sign that reads "LIQUOR KILLS, DON'T DRINK.' My wife told them that we were just passing through the town. One of the policemen said the sign about liquor was a good sign. He took my license number and told me that they would develop that roll of film and if there was nothing harmful on it, I should come back in about a week and he would give it to me. I tried to give him my name and address and he should mail it to me; but he refused to listen to me any more; he told me to come back if I wanted it. Our plans did not call for returning to Milwaukee that way; and besides my mother and wife were so fearful, and I was getting a bad attitude, and I did not want to subject them to any more such experiences.

We left Greenwood immediately; my mother did not have the stomach for trying to show me where I had been born in that town. I even feared to stop and rest at the wayside areas along the road for fear some white traveler might want to rest there too and he might insult me and ask me to get out of his way � and the police would back him up rather than me. In all the towns where we stopped, we tried to stop near the police station or court=house; I have always believed that the public officials were our best friends; we even influenced our son to become a policeman with the Milwaukee Police Department. However, after this experience in Greenwood, I began to fear the police and tried to stay away from public tax-supported houses such as the policy department and courthouses.

After listening to stories at my aunt's house of how white people are allowed to treat colored people � and of how some white people do treat colored people and are not punished for it � I cowardly took off my American flag and hid it underneath the seat. I took very few pictures after that. I had wanted to attend a Baptist revival meeting in a tent, but my aunt told me that that was for white people only. Colored people in that town did not attend political meetings; my aunt who had taught school was not allowed to vote. She told me that about fifty of the leading colored citizens had signed a petition for a better school building for colored children � even schools are segregated down there � tax-supported, public schools, at that. Every one of those fifty colored citizens who had signed that petition had been driven out of town. One man who had lived across the street from her was a carpenter; he had been boycotted; no one would give him work; no store would sell him food in that small town; his neighbors would sneak food over to him at night she told me; he finally left town.

The campaign for governor was now going on in Mississippi; and we heard some speeches over the radio; it seemed like the candidates spoke as much on racial discrimination as they did on the progress of the state; they ridiculed Negroes and made jokes about them in their speeches, it was sickening.

We stayed with my aunt about six days; she tried to show us her town, but we never felt free; the lot of the colored person is too confined, restricted, and deprived. She bragged about the hospital for COLORED; my wife who is a licensed practical nurse saw the heart-breaking condition of this place my aunt had bragged about; my mother and I toured it also. We saw the outside of the new WHITE hospital and the new WHITE school. I could not blame a colored child for not wanting to attend the COLORED school in its ill-kept, dirty, depressing condition. My aunt said the white people were just about worried to death in fear that the colored people were planning a demonstration in that town.

We wanted to go to Vicksburg and Natchez and see some of the beautiful mansions and Civil War monuments we had read about and take some pictures of them, but we were fearful to travel to those places. We visited Jackson, where there were many places of historical importance that I wanted to photograph, but was afraid of being annoyed by the police � and my wife and mother were telling me not to take any more pictures. I parked the car and went walking around alone in Jackson; I wanted to take a good look at the White Baptist church building which is segregated; I saw a colored janitor and man working on the grounds around this church which is across the street from the State Capitol in Jackson.

I read the inscriptions of some monuments on the grounds of the State Capitol in Jackson, Miss. Tears flowed from my eyes as I read some of these things. An elderly white gentleman of about 70 years of age was in the park there; and I took the initiative and began talking with him. First I put out my hand for a handshake and said "Hello" to him; he accepted my hand and returned the greeting. We talked about things in general � hinting about the racial unrest that prevailed in that city. We mentioned that we hoped nothing like the events of the Civil War would ever come again. He told me stories he said his mother had told him of how poor his family had become after the Civil War; his grandmother would take some red clay from the earth and soak it in water to get the salt from the water in order to bake bread.

Tears streamed quietly down my face as I mentioned that life was too short to spend time in war and hatred; disease and nature were working to end our lives; and we should do all in our power to live together in peace the short while we had to live on earth. He said his parents had told him that there would be another war over this race matter. I told him that I hoped that would not be the case.

As we parted, I offered my hand again which he accepted, and said that I would like to count him as a personal friend of mine and that if we never met again on earth I hoped we would meet in heaven. He said he would try to influence the hot heads in his group and I should try to influence the hot heads in my group. While we were talking together, a white motorcycle patrolman drove by and looked at us; this made me afraid for my safety � the stories of my aunt, mother, and others of police brutality went racing through my mind. I wondered what might happen if this white gentleman should make a false accusation of me to this white policeman. The laws favor a man if his skin is white down there; this is a tremendous load for a colored skinned person to carry; and perhaps the only way a colored person can feel any sense of freedom is for him to stay clear of all white people unless he is working for them � the colored person dare not try to associate with the white person as equals and discuss man-to-man, as I had just done.

Here in Milwaukee, I am a member of the Milwaukee Civic Symphonic Band and the Milwaukee Arion Chorus; for the last six or seven years the other members of these organizations have treated me not only with respect, but with genuine friendliness. It would not only be against custom and tradition for me to belong to such groups in Jackson, Miss., but worse than that, it would be against the law of the State. Colored people may not compete in sports with white people; many jobs are not open to colored people; one of the demands made during the recent demonstrations in Jackson was that the police force be open to colored people for application for those jobs; the Mississippi National Guard is closed to colored young men by State law.

I suppose I have been as harsh in my criticism of colored people as anyone; many have been the times the hearts of my mother and other elderly colored advisors must have been broken by criticism of mine from my youth up until this very present time; when I have unsympathetically rejected their explanations as to why they had not lived in the mainstream of American life. I utterly rejected the idea that there were State laws which segregated them from the mainstream of American life � laws which based qualifications on the "accident of birth" rather than upon merit and competence. Many of these laws help to maintain and perpetuate the conditions that are criticized by many white people � and criticized justly.

As we would drive through and see the signs that said, "WELCOME", I would say, "Welcome if your skin is white! Welcome if your skin is white!" This obviously irritated my mother and my aunt; perhaps they love the South so much that they refuse to acknowledge an evident philosophy that hinders them regardless of their love for the South.

One day we visited a small town in the southern third of the State of Mississippi. We were welcomed by an in-law, served a delicious meal, and sat discussing the Bible and God's Plan of Salvation. We sang songs about Jesus, prayed, I took some more slides, and we left after about four hours. My impression was that these people were about as interested in God as anyone we had ever met; we sensed the Presence of God there.

On the way back to Milwaukee we passed through Alabama and stayed at the Gaston Motel which had been bombed in May of this year � the day before Mother's Day; this was in Birmingham. We came to Chattanooga, Tenn., where we visited Lookout Mountain. I was glad to see other tourists with their camera, so I used mine. There was an outdoor restaurant on top of Lookout Mountain, and I wanted my wife and mother to have the experience of eating on top of this historic mountain. We sat down at an empty table and, after some waiting, were served.

As we inquired at different motels in Tennessee, I believed it when one manager at a Holiday Inn told us that they were filled up because a convention was staying there that Saturday night. At another motel, which had only one car in the court, the manager sheepishly told us that his motel was filled up. We politely told him we were glad that business was so good, and left. I believe he was lying; but a lie is between the liar, his conscience and his God. The least we should do is present ourselves for lodging; what they do is between themselves and God. One woman told us that her husband was not there at the time and she had never had colored people stay at her motel before; we politely bid her goodnight and left. We felt more at ease in Tennessee because they have a more fair=minded governor in Frank G. clement � from what we had read in the newspapers. Because people usually follow the leaders, I would never have inquired to stay overnight in a motel in Mississippi and Alabama; the white owners might have insulted us or done some other dirty work � depending upon how they might have been feeling � but in Tennessee we felt that they would at least speak civilly to us.

Because it was Saturday night, we made it a policy to inquire at motels that were on the outskirts at the entering of the towns. We felt that after having gone through a town, our car would be more easily identifiable, and thus a target for any active segregationist, or mischievous young persons who might be out to vent any pent-up emotions that Saturday night.

When we were about to resign ourselves to sleeping in the car all night, we stopped at one more motel outside of Knoxville, Tenn. This white owner of the motel welcomed us; his motel was nicer than some others; the rates were lower too. We needed two rooms a night, so the ones that refused us lost the rent of two rooms. (As we were looking for lodging for the night, we were guided by the words of the Lord Jesus who, upon sending forth His disciples, once told them to be "wise as serpents and harmless as doves." We were not particularly going about doing the Lord's work, but this is good philosophy just the same; we tried to be wise as serpents � wise enough to keep others from harming us; and harmless as doves � harmless in ourselves enough so that we would harm no one.)

We took baths in every motel before retiring; and baths every morning before leaving the motel. We left "thank you" notes in every motel; thanking them for allowing us to be refreshed and rested in their motels along the road.

The next day was Sunday and as we drove along the road, we came upon a small church and felt led to go in. My mother was not eager to visit this white church; nevertheless, we introduced ourselves to two white men outside the church and went in and sat down in the rear by the wall � apart from the rest of the people, feeling that it was their prerogative to invite us up to where the rest of the congregation were sitting if they wanted us with them. Some people welcomed us as they came in and saw us sitting there; others, a few, seemed not to like the idea that we were there; most of them seemed to be neutral. When song service began, we joined in wholeheartedly � at least I did � and sang the tenor score, and was able to sight-read any song I had not seen before. This seemed to cause the leadership to warm up to us. The Sunday School superintendent announced that there were some colored visitors in the congregation; he made a few remarks that Christian love is the only thing that would solve the problems in the world today; then he came down and invited us to sit in the adult class. The teacher of this class spoke more on Christian brotherhood than on the prescribed lesson.

During the worship service the pastor introduced us by name to the congregation; he made remarks on Christian brotherhood and said it was an old colored man who had most impressed him as a boy to become a Christian and get into the ministry; and that there would always be a warm spot in his heart for colored people. This seemed to make the congregation warm up to us more. The white young people who were sitting in front of us seemed eager to turn around and shake our hands when after a song the pastor told everyone to turn around and shake hands with a number of people. When the offering was received, I wrote out a check and put my tithe into the collection.

After church, we were warmly greeted; and I remembered that I had some bumper stickers about Jesus in my car. I rushed out and began offering these gospel stickers to certain ones; very shortly we ran out of them. The pastor came out of the church and offered me a dollar bill; he said I was doing a good job in passing out these stickers and those about LIQUOR; he said I should use that dollar to buy some more; O graciously refused his money; he firmly insisted that I take it; telling me he would give me more if he had it at the time; he put the dollar into my shirt pocket and I thanked him. We waved "goodbye" and left.

I think this did much more good than if we had visited a colored church; the races need the opportunity to practice some of what they are taught in their churches. No matter how much good doctrine is taught in church, Christ and Christianity will not be the answer to the race problem or any other problem in life unless we get out and put it to work; this is the only way God and Christ will get credit in this world.

I believe it is the responsibility of government to provide a legal support enabling men of goodwill to fellowship together regardless of race, if they so desire. Segregation laws make it unlawful for men of goodwill to fellowship together if they have skins of different color. Some public libraries are not open to students with dark skins; sports events are banned between competitors of different skin color � banned by segregation laws; public school children, if they have a different skin color, are banned by segregation laws from going to school with children they might live next door to.

It is up to local governments to provide a legal support for men of good will to fellowship together if they choose to do so. If the local government fails to provide such a support, the state government should take steps to do it; if the state government fails to provide such a support, then it is up to the federal government to do so.

Parents should d provide for their children; if they fail to do so it is up to the government to see to it that they do so. The people who complain about being forced to do what they ought to do are usually those who have not willingly done what they ought to have done. Those who complain about being forced to pay their debts are usually those who have not paid their debts willingly. People who are not decent and fair=minded enough to do what they ought to do, are usually not decent and fair-minded enough to graciously accept the force which they caused to come upon them.

I am in favor of force; I am in favor of laws. God is a God of laws. God gave laws by which mankind is to live on this earth and reap the greatest amount of good and blessing. God's laws are accepted by those who want to please him and reap His blessings. God has retribution coming in this life and the next for those who refuse to abide by His laws; the more we break God's laws, the more we suffer. God's laws apply to all men alike, of whatever color, custom, tradition; God's laws apply to all men alike, even of whatever creed! God's laws are righteous and just. It is up to law=makers to try to make their laws copy those of God, and not favor those on one skin color over the others, or those of one creed over another.

We do not expect individuals to be perfect, but isn't it the duty of lawmakers to be everlastingly trying to make their laws perfect and just to all men? Segregation laws make it unlawful for men of good will of both races to associate or join together for a common purpose � never to be seen together as equals in public; these laws are unjust and unfair; they hinder both the white and colored people of good will. White people who publicly befriend colored people are mistreated by other people who have white skins; they are beaten up physically by vigilante groups; and oftentimes not protected by the white policemen, it is reported in the news.

I have been convinced for a long time that many colored people have not been taking advantage of the opportunities they have � especially so in Milwaukee. Some white people who have the authority for hiring, etc., seem to use this as an excuse for not hiring those colored people who do qualify for the jobs for which they have applied. This seems to give an excuse to the colored people who do not take advantage of their opportunities here in Milwaukee; they say they would not be accepted even if they did qualify themselves.

Living together is the only way to bring about understanding and mutual respect; state and local laws must not hinder those of good will who want to help bring about understanding and mutual respect. I am thankful to have grown up in a legally fair-minded city like Milwaukee; where I like to feel I have tried to be a pretty good citizen. I like to feel that I love everyone in this city, while not always approving of the conduct of everyone. I like to feel that I would inconvenience myself just as readily for the benefit of a white person as I would for a colored person, even a member of my own family. I like to feel that I would be impartial in my judgment between white people and colored people � between strangers and members of my immediate family. God is no respecter of persons, and I think He does not want me to be a respecter of persons in the matter of fairness and judgment.

Even at this late date (August 22, 1963, five weeks later) I have not received the film the officers in Greenwood, Miss., took from me.

Edgar William Gordon

1917-1997