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mm a icuci wucu 11c was newly arrived to the Senate, telling him that even though a white Southerner, I supported civil rights.
By then, I saw that the solution was to get away, to go off to college, where I would find kindred spirits. At the time, I felt it best to keep quiet and go along. Ironically, keeping my mouth shut didn’t always work. By not using the “N-word,” not joining in on denouncing civil rights, integration, etc., I aroused some hostility and suspicion toward the end of the year.
I would like to say, at least in retrospective, that not everyone shared the narrowest, most racist views. Those few of us who were destined for college realized that we would encounter all kinds of people, from everywhere.
Then too, there were a couple of teachers who provided a different perspective. First, I remember Mr. Titchenell, my history and Latin teacher, whom when someone mentioned the possibility of integration, said that it would not bother him, that his theological seminary had been integrated. His school was Crozer Theological Seminary, whose most famous graduate is Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
The other experience is even more vivid. In our 11th grade American History class each Friday was devoted to current events. When Miss Zinn the teacher asked one Friday (after the Birming ham church bombing in 1963) if anyone had a current event, one individual blurted out “a whole bunch of n—s got killed down in Alabama.” She glared and pointed her blackboard pointer at him and in a stern voice said that she never wanted to hear that word again in her classroom, that
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