A RACIST? WHO, ME? (AMENDED)

DECLINING CIVILITY

Since the outbreak of the COVID-19 pandemic, the subsequent economic collapse and the civil unrest as a result of George Floyd’s death under the knee of the Minneapolis police officer, I’ve seen a significant change in civility in our society.

IT’S NOT JUST FACEBOOK

I won’t use the shift of tone on social media alone for this observation.  Every single night for the last couple months on the news - any news - we’ve seen the breakdown of civility all across the country, which is certainly exacerbated by the fear of the illness and compounded by so many folks being out of work and all the stress that alone brings.

FRACTURING OF OLD RELATIONSHIPS

What I have observed, however, is the willingness of some people to engage in nasty, vindictive, accusatory discussions with folks who express a differing opinion on some of the pithy social issues of the time.  I admit that I base this largely on my own personal experiences recently, but also of experiences shared - or that I have observed - as it affected others.  Sadly, some of those discussions have been between me and friends - not just Facebook friends, (I expect rancor from some on Facebook - it goes with the turf) but actual, honest-to-goodness long-time friends.  These real friends are those with whom we have never had these kinds of conversations in the past.  Our bond has been based on a shared life experience - growing up together and maintaining close relationships over the years.  Never in the past have we found the need to sit down and have a serious discussion about race relations in our country - it just never came up.  The discussions we shared revolved around the fun times in our lives, our siblings and parents and shared friendships with others.  We enjoyed hearing with great joy about the lives of their children and their accomplishments and families.  Never did I find the need to say to any of those friends, “I don’t know any black people, nor do I understand what their lives are like.”  It just never came up…. until now.

DEVALUING MY OPINIONS

I have come to realize lately that, as an old white guy, raised in a life nearly completely devoid of contact with black people, my opinions are being challenged by friends and others for what they apparently feel is my inadequate background and understanding of  racial diversity issues, thus negating my opinion.  Since almost all of those people do not really know all of my background their condemnation of my opinions are, at the very least, disappointing.  We ALL are entitled to opinions on issues, whether we have lived them or not.

A SHORT PRIMER

So, let’s talk about my limited background with black people.  Although I have known many Latino and Asian people in both my personal and professional life,  never knew a black person until I entered the United States Army late in 1963 - shortly after John F. Kennedy was murdered.  In Basic Training I had no “buddies” that were black, although there were a few in my training company.  In my first duty station, in the Army Pictorial Center in Long Island City, Queens, New York, one of my very best friends for the short 6 months I spent there was Hayes Manning, a black man from California.  He had a college degree.  His father went to Harvard and his mother attended Radcliffe.  His Aunt Joyce was married George Wein, the producer of the Newport Jazz Festival.  We used to jump on the subway and go to their home on Central Park West and just hang out.  We met legendary jazz musicians who wandered through.  That was the first place I ever smelled marijuana.  During that summer of 1964 there were riots in Harlem so Hayes and I, ignorently, decided to jump on the subway and go see what it was all about.  Huge mistake!  We stepped onto the city streets, recognized this was like a pre-lynch scene in an old “B” western movie and immediately left - both of us petrified from the experience.  He became a lifelong friend until his death in his early 50s.

FLIGHT SCHOOL

During my time at the Pictorial Center I applied for, and was accepted into, the fledgling Warrant Officer Rotary Wing Flight Training program - the  Army was gearing up for the need for more “bus drivers” in Vietnam - and spent the last few months of 1964 and early into 1965 attending an abbreviated Officer Candidate School and learning to fly helicopters in northern Texas.  I had no black friends during that time.  Although an eye ailment eliminated me from flight school, I was reassigned to the Advanced School at Fort Rucker (one of those bases the angry masses now scream about re-naming) and spent the remaining part of my enlistment at that location as a company clerk while my classmates completed their training.  87 men in my class (of the 142 who began) graduated in July of 1965 and all of them, including the 80 assigned to the legendary First Cavalry (Airmobile) Division at Fort Benning, GA (another of those bases the screamers would have us rename), were in Vietnam by September.  Six of those men did not make it through their first tour, having been killed in action in Vietnam.

THE WATTS RIOTS AND CHANGE

During my time at Fort Rucker the Watts Riots occurred back home in Los Angeles.  My very best friend in life was a rookie cop with the LAPD at that time and was involved in that chaos.  In fact, he was doubly involved because he was also in the Army National Guard and his unit was activated and assigned to riot control at the very location he had been working at with the LAPD.  Yes, I was interested.  And, I saw that societal event change things at Fort Rucker.  Before that event men of all races would mingle and enjoy each other’s company in our company Day Room - a place with television, pool tables and a library plus comfortable chairs - a kind of living room for our barracks.  When the Watts riots occurred I saw a polarization occur - blacks sat with blacks and whites sat with whites.  When the television showed blacks looting stores in LA, the blacks in the Day Room would stand and cheer.  When the National Guard fired  on them, the whites would cheer.  Nothing was the same on that post from that time forward in the summer of 1965.  In fact, three weeks before I mustered out in December, there was a cross burned on the lawn of a black sergeant, where he and his family lived in his on-post housing domicile.  Keep in mind that Fort Rucker is located in the armpit of the South, where the “N Word” was used in casual conversation by the civilian populace.  In Dothan - the biggest town near our post - there were drinking fountains marked for “coloreds” and black folks were required to buy tickets at the local theater on the outside of the ticket booth and take an outside stairway to the balcony - they could not sit with the white folks downstairs.  Yes, this was a tough time to be a black person in the South.

TENSION IN THE SOUTH

As my best friend from flight school and I drove from the Primary School outside Fort Worth, Texas to the Advanced School in Alabama we drove past Philadelphia, Mississippi, the location where, just a few months earlier, three civil rights workers were murdered.  Also on our route we crossed over the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma, Alabama, the day before the big march.  We were clueless about that stuff, but did wonder why there were 200 State Police cars staged on the north side of that bridge.  We found out the next day after we arrived at Fort Rucker.

THE ’N-WORD”

Following my military service I worked for a national insurance company in progressively responsible assignments that took me to Los Angeles, Santa Ana, Hartford, Houston, Hartford and San Francisco over a period of seven years, until I resigned and we returned home to Southern California and bought the home we’ve lived in for more than 46 years.  During that time, and in subsequent jobs I’ve had, I had very limited experience working with black people.  I had no long-term relationships with any black people during that time.  The only significant experience I had with black people was during my time in Houston when we attempted to hire young black women - graduates with liberal arts degrees from all-black Texas Southern University - into entry-level clerical jobs to which they had applied.  We were unsuccessful.  These women showed up woefully unprepared for the jobs and it is likely that the societal chasm they found themselves in made it hard - impossible - to achieve success.  My first day at that office, where I held a senior management position, I heard the “N-Word” spoken in casual conversation by the woman who worked for me and did most of the applicant preliminary screening.  That was the last time the word was spoken in my presence.  Regardless, it was indicative of the systemically hostile environment that young black women were exposed to in that office.  I tried to overcome that terrible bias by working hard with supervisors and managers, but was unsuccessful in single-handedly buffing off a century of racial bias.

NEXT DOOR NEIGHBORS

In my last assignment with the insurance company I worked in San Francisco and lived in Concord, in the east bay.  Our next door neighbors were a mixed race couple.  He was a black man and a Captain in the United States Navy.  We established a relationship that has lasted for nearly a half century.  Both parents are gone, but we still have a relationship with their kids.

RACIAL DIVERSITY WAS NEVER A CONSIDERATION

In subsequent jobs I had virtually zero exposure to black men and women.  The companies I worked with were mostly white, with some Asians and Latinos in the population.  I did not seek them out because of that lack of racial diversity - I just never considered it in my job searches.  Most of those assignments involved some part of the recruitment process.  We never specifically targeted any racial group when trying to fill positions, although occasionally we would hire black people.  When I struck out on my own early in the 1980s and created a consulting practice that specialized primarily in Executive Search, the issue of racial diversity never came up.  In no case did a client company charge me with finding a woman or man of color - nor did we sort any out that appeared as a result of that search.

NO RACIAL EMPHASIS ON THE BLOG

During the past couple of decades when I wrote this blog and wrote commentaries elsewhere, none involved specific issues of race.  During this time I got to know a couple black Costa Mesa officials.  Judge Karen Robinson was a terrific leader, our mayor for a time and is an effective judge.  Rick Francis was a really good Assistant City Manager and just a good guy.  But that’s about it.  My focus has not been about racial issues.  Is that good or bad?  It is what it is.  

NOTE: A couple days after I published this piece an old friend, who has followed this blog from the very beginning, reminded me that I did, indeed, address race.  He reminded me that in my frequent jousts with another blogger in town who has written extensively on racial issues - I called him a racist, but he defined himself as a "racialist" - I did take the issue on to refute some of his putrid prose.  He has shriveled into insignificance locally, but still fouls the ether with his drumbeat of intolerance.  Sorry for the misstatement - he is something most are happy to push back in to the corners of our memories.

A LACK OF DEPTH, BUT NO REMORSE

So, as I read back over this essay I realize that, although I’m a pretty smart fella, I DO NOT have a background with any depth of experience with black folks.  I DID see how blacks were treated in the deep south in the 1960s - a pretty awful experience for them.  I have had a solid relationship with a couple black friends, but none lately.  A friend asked me the other day if I had any black friends - my answer was NO - not counting the Concord neighbors mentioned above since we only hear from them once a year.  As I contemplated that fact I realized that I don’t have any particular remorse about not having any close black friends - I don’t have feelings about it one way or the other.  Does that make me a racist?  If you think so I’d like to hear about it.  Because I’m ambivalent on the issue, am I considered a racist?  Because I’m VERY angry about the behavior of the current crop of demonstrators, those who are threatening to burn down our society, do you think I’m a racist?  How is it wrong for me to want to protect those I love and their personal wealth?  I don’t get it.  Is it wrong for me to refuse to just step back and say to those rioters “Go ahead - take everything I’ve worked for just because somewhere in your history - four generations ago - there may be slavery in your ancestry.”?

I LEARNED, BUT NEED MORE

Recently I listened on the radio to an excellent discussion moderated by my friends, John Stephens and Tom Johnson, with four black men of a variety of backgrounds, but each with a local connection to my city, and came away with a much better understanding of their plight.  I have a better understanding of “systemic racism” and want to learn more.  I understand a little bit better about how things like red-lining and inequitable school funding have so adversely affected black men and women in this country and I want to learn more - to more fully understand the issue and what possible solutions there might be.  If you feel the urge to educate me on these issues, go ahead.  I’m a good listener and sometimes actually ask good questions.   Otherwise, please keep your caustic, holier-than-thou comments to yourself.  If you don’t like what I write, just don’t read it.  If you think you can offer constructive observations, go ahead.

…BUT, DON’T THINK YOU CAN JUST TAKE IT!

But that doesn’t mean I’m willing to have my state, California, decide to use my tax dollars to pay billions (trillions?) of dollars in reparations to every black man and woman in this state for alleged mistreatment of people of their race generations ago.  There is a move afoot to create a commission to study that very issue and I don’t like it one bit!  I didn’t do it and I don’t want to pay for it.  If that happens it will be the final straw.  It will mean to me that California - the state I love for her natural beauty and as the home to so many of our relatives - will become unlivable for a guy with conservative values.  I will just pack up and move elsewhere - look out, Texas!  

IS CHANGE NECESSARY?  PROBABLY…

Do I want to see that systemic racism eliminated?  Of course!  Do I want to hand the fruits of my lifetime of labor over to someone who just wants it because he thinks he’s entitled to it?  Nope - not gonna happen!  If a mob shows up on my porch demanding possession of my home and all I own, I will do all within my power to resist that criminal act.  When I say all, I mean ALL!  

LIKE IT OR NOT, THERE IT IS.

So, that’s a couple thousand words about how I feel on this issue.  I don’t really care if you like it or not - it is what it is. You cannot comment here - comments are disabled.  If you want to rant about it you must go to my Facebook page HERE.  Or, you can communicate with me privately. It’s your choice.  

HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY, MY FRIENDS

In any event, I wish you all well and hope you are having a wonderful Independence Day holiday.  How’s that for irony - Independence Day in the middle of a catastrophic pandemic, economic collapse and social unrest not seen in this country for more than 40 years?  Oh, well…

A New City Manager And The Pride Flag Will Fly

I’M BAAAACK!

I’m back again - two days in a row after months of absence - to wrap up the issue of my previous blog post.  That one, about flying the Pride Flag over Costa Mesa City Hall for 5 weeks beginning this year, generated lots of heat.  In fact, I attended the City Council meeting Tuesday night specifically for two reasons.  1 - To meet our new City Manager, Lori Ann Farrell Harrison and, 2 - to watch the discussion on the Pride Flag issue.

WELCOMING LORI ANN FARRELL HARRISON

First things first…. I was the first person to greet our new City Manager before she entered the meeting room at the Senior Center.  She is VERY impressive.  She has an outstanding background - strong academically and excellent work experience.  We were told she is known for her “kindness”.   

HEAPING PRAISE ON LETOURNEAU

When it came time for the discussion of her new contract things got more than a little embarrassing for Acting City Manager, Assistant City Manager Tammy Letourneau.  Several speakers, including council members, heaped much-deserved praise on her for the great job she has done for the city.  

MANSOOR THE BUFFOON

Sadly, our resident buffoon, Allan Mansoor, could not simply take the high road and welcome Mrs. Farrell Harrison and vote with the majority.  No, horses butt that he is, he had to tell Mrs. Farrell Harrison that he thought she was a good candidate, but the City should have chosen Letourneau, who didn’t even apply for the job!  Even worse, he looked straight at Mrs. Farrell Harrison and wondered out loud why we paid her $1,000 per month more than her predecessor, Tom Hatch!  What a low class jerk!  Anyhow, the council affirmed her contract on a 6-1 vote.

PRIDE FLAG DISCUSSION

Then we finally got around to the final item on the agenda, the discussion of whether we should fly a Pride Flag for five weeks every year beginning May 22nd (to honor murdered gay San Francisco supervisor Harvey Milk) and for the entire month of June - Pride Month.

MANY LINED UP

After a short staff report and a brief discussion by Councilwoman Arlis Reynolds, who put this idea forward, public comments were invited.  This was VERY interesting.  Twenty-one (21) people lined up against the wall to come to the podium to address this issue.  All were passionate on the subject.  

LEAD-OFF NEGATIVE COMMENT

The first person, who identified herself as a MAGA supporter, was dead-set against flying the flag.  She was in the minority.

SUSAN MEYER

Among the others who spoke was my friend, Susan Meyer (who posted a comment on my Facebook page in response to my previous post and who greeted me with a big hug in the parking lot before the meeting)  She used her three minutes to describe her life as a gay woman, and what this step would mean to her in terms of acceptance of who she is.  It was very moving.

COSTA MESA LATINA

 A young Latina from Costa Mesa told us of her life as a gay woman in a culture that doesn’t embrace her.  She, too, was very passionate on this issue.

INTOLERANCE IN THE SOUTH

A 40 year-old black man spoke of his life as a gay youth in Alabama, and how moving to California changed things for him.

RELIGIOUS ACCEPTANCE

Pastor Sarah Halvorson-Cano, with her infant son in tow, expressed the position of her local church on this issue, and how they embrace everyone, including gays.

A YOUNG REPUBLICAN’S STORY

A dapper young man, Ben Chapman, stepped up and told us that he was gay and a young Republican.  He explained how the Republican Party has given him more love and support than the gay community, and that he questioned the value of flying the flag. He said, "I support one flag, the American Flag.  I don't need a Rainbow flag to tell me who I am."

A MINISTER’S TRAVAILS

Craig Chapman, who it turns out is Ben's husband, stepped up and described his travails as a minister and a gay man.

JUST A FEW EXAMPLES

These were just a few examples of passionate folks who stepped up to share their stories.  Several mentioned the high suicide rate among gay youth.

CHAVEZ LEAD THE COUNCIL DISCUSSION

When it came time for the council to consider the two issues at hand - a new Flag Policy and whether to fly the Pride Flag -  young councilman Manuel Chavez took the lead and made a motion, which was bifurcated to split the issues.  The decision on the Flag Policy passed with a 5-2 vote - Mansoor and Sandy Genis voted NO.

HIS POIGNANT STORY

Then came the discussion of the Pride Flag.  Chavez told a poignant story about growing up in Costa Mesa and his best friend was gay.  He spoke of what he observed in his friend’s life.  It was very moving.

MARR’S NAVAL STORY

Councilwoman Andrea Marr, a Naval Academy graduate who served aboard ships for five years, spoke of being a 22 year-old officer in charge of 17-19 year-old sailors, working in the bowels of ships where conversations sometimes turned to the fact that some were gay - and likely to be booted from the service if “outed”.

REYNOLDS SPOKE OF HER PARENTS

 Councilwoman Reynolds, who placed this issue on the agenda spoke of growing up in Costa Mesa and of gay friends.  She spoke of her parents - both in the audience last night - who were outstanding educators.  She spoke of her father in glowing terms, speaking about his creation of a counselor position to help gay youth at his high school in Santa Ana.

MANSOOR’S BIGOTRY SHOWED

Earlier Mansoor spoke against the issue.  At one point he said something like, “I know of no scientific evidence that a person is born gay.”  Many in the audience and on the dais noticeably cringed, including Marr, who covered her face and later looked like she was praying for him.

A GLIMPSE OF THE SANDY GENIS OF OLD

Finally came veteran Councilwoman Sandy Genis, who spoke with great compassion and eloquence, describing the obligation of the council to make residents feel welcome and safe.  For those fleeting few moments I harkened back to the Sandy Genis of old.  It was the best moment of leadership - maybe the only moment -  I’ve seen from her in a couple years.

MOIST EYES ALL AROUND

As that discussion went on it was easy to see moist eyes on the dais, particularly among the young members.  I’m OK with that. 

STILL CONCERNED, BUT MOVED…

While I still don’t know exactly where I stand on this issue, I was moved by the passion of the speakers and the compassion showed by our elected leaders - except one.

STUBBORN AND STUPID

When the vote was called each member except Allan Mansoor voted Yes.  His No vote was unnecessary and, while it may have demonstrated to him the steadfastness of his opinion, it clearly showed the fracture on the dais.  Mansoor is as stubborn as he is stupid, which he demonstrated more than once last night.

THE FLAG WILL FLY

So, the 6-1 vote means we will begin seeing the Pride Flag flying at City Hall beginning this May 22nd.  It will continue to fly through the month of June to recognize Pride Month.  I’m still not happy about that.  I don’t feel it is appropriate to fly the flag over our city honoring Harvey Milk  What about a flag for Martin Luther King, Jr.?  Heck, what about a flag for Costa Mesa Fire Captain Mike Kreza, who was killed by a dope-addled driver last year?  You get my point, right?  Mansoor implied that he was going to ask for something to be placed on a future agenda about other kinds of flags that might be flown.  The mind reels at the thought!

ADDING “QUEER” TO THE MIX

In my original post I mentioned LGBT - Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender.  During the testimony by speakers it was frequently mentioned as LBGTQ - adding the term “queer” to the discussion.  Each time a person - and several did - use that word it actually startled me.  As I grew up - way back in the dark ages - that word was meant as a pejorative, a negative slur that didn’t necessarily mean a person was gay.  Now it apparently has become a term of honor among the gay community.   I filed that in the folder with all the other things I don’t understand these days.

SMALL TURNOUT

I kind of thought there might be a bigger turnout for this issue.  At no time Tuesday night was there more than about 60 people in the room and, by the time this item was introduced there may have been 40, not counting City staff.  More than half of those in attendance spoke to the issue, but it was a pretty small sample of our population.  Perhaps folks were just not interested.  Or, maybe, they were afraid of speaking out - one way or the other - before the council and their neighbors.   Or, maybe they were just in the next room playing Bingo!

GLAD I ATTENDED, BUT…

So, I’m glad I attended.  I have a better perspective on alternate lifestyles now.  Although I held no animus toward gay people before, I think I have a greater sense of compassion for their plight now.  But, I still don’t like the idea of flying the flag for five weeks every year.  

IF WE’RE SERIOUS WE NEED TO DO MORE

Yeah, if a young person dealing with being gay looks up at the flag and it dissuades him or her from considering suicide, then it’s worth it.  As a couple speakers said last night, if the City is serious about providing real support, then more than a flag flying over City Hall is necessary.  There should be a more concerted outreach effort, to help those struggling with this.  I don’t have a solution, but I think I have a better understanding of the problem.

AN INTERESTING SIDEBAR

I thought it was interesting that, almost before the crowd had dispersed last night, both Mayor Katrina Foley and Mayor Pro Tem John Stephens had posted a Facebook entry announcing the approval of the Pride Flag and used this image - which is a cropped version of the official City photo of the council - which eliminated Mansoor and included a rainbow border at the top.  Yeah, I smiled, but it did seem just a little over the top.

ANOTHER INTERESTING SIDEBAR
Immediately after the meeting ended and the euphoric crowd was milling around, hugging each other, I noticed Allan Mansoor made a beeline to young Ben Chapman and spent a few minutes chatting him up.  I don't know what that means... it was interesting to observe.

VIEW IT ON CM TV/YOUTUBE
Here's the link to this meeting on the City YouTube Channel HERE.

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THAT'S IT.... FOR NOW

I don't expect to post more on the blog - unless something really special moves me.  You just never know.  If you want to comment on what I wrote here you'll have to migrate back to my Facebook page to do so.  Thanks for reading...

What's This Day All About, Anyhow?

ENJOYING YOUR HOLIDAY?
Today many of you will enjoy a day off of work, celebrating the end of another long holiday weekend.  Many of you will have only a vague idea of just why you get to take this day off, so let me help you.

WHO WAS THIS MAN?
Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., was a seminal figure in the civil rights movement during the 1960s in our country.  A simple Google search will provide you with all the information you need about this man.  Here's a short video clip that may be helpful for you.
 
WHAT IT WAS LIKE FOR ME
During the mid 1960s I was a young guy growing up in California, barely aware of civil rights.  I've written about this before in August of 2013 to commemorate the 50th anniversary of Dr. King's "I Have A Dream" speech, HERE.  Read it (again) if you wish.  Here's a short version of that speech.

A WHOLE NEW WORLD
My experience in the United States Army exposed me, up close and personal, to many of the civil rights issues of the day.  Again, I wrote about them earlier.  The south at the time I lived in Alabama is not something most of you can comprehend.  My friend and I drove across the Edmund Pettus Bridge the day before the first march, when state troopers beat, hosed down and turned dogs on the peaceful marchers.

 RIOTS
I watched as parts of Los Angeles burned during the Watts riots of 1965 while I was still in the army.  We had a cross burned on the lawn of a black sergeant on post in November of 1965, just days before I left the Army.  In those days, in that part of the country, there were still separate restrooms and drinking fountains for blacks.  In Dothan, Alabama - the closest town to my Army post - blacks were required to purchase movie tickets "outside" and take an outside staircase to the balcony.

 JFK ASSASSINATED
I was drafted three weeks after John F. Kennedy was murdered in Dallas.  I saw parts of cities erupt in violence following Dr. King's assassination in 1968.  This was not a good time in our country.

TRUMP SCARES ME
Today, as we celebrate Dr. King's life, I contemplate the inauguration of our new President on Friday and, based on his utterances over the past couple years, am terrified about how Donald J. Trump's presidency may affect this country.  So, I thought it was appropriate to remind us all of Dr. King's messages...

PROPHETIC SPEECH
On March 3, 1968 Dr. King made his prophetic "I've been to the mountaintop" speech.  Here's a short version of that speech.  The very next day he was murdered.
 
BOBBY KENNEDY.... TOO
That night Senator Robert Kennedy delivered a speech to a crowd in Indianapolis from the back of a flatbed truck telling them that Dr. King had been murdered.  Here's a short video clip of his speech.  Two months later he, too, was gunned down.

KING'S WORK IS FAR FROM OVER
I write to you today, a holiday which is dedicated to Dr. King's life, to remind you that his work is far, far from over.  When you do your Google search of him you will find dozens of quotes attributed to him.  Of all of them, this one rings loudest to me.  I'll leave you with it as you contemplate Dr. King and what this holiday means.

"Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter."

The Dream... Unfulfilled

"I HAVE A DREAM..."

Today is the 50th anniversary of Dr. Martin Luther King's "I have a dream" speech, delivered on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, D.C. before an estimated quarter million people.  According to most observers, this was the seminal moment of the modern civil rights movement in this country.  Because I lived through, and much too near, some of the events that marked that time in this country's history, I'd like to share some of that history with you.  Bear with me... it's a long story.

A TYPICAL WHITE KID
When Dr. King gave that speech I was a 22-year-old southern California kid who had just dropped out of college for the second time to earn money so I could continue later.  I was a fairly typical middle class white kid, who did middle class white kid stuff.  I had girlfriends, did water-oriented sports - spent time at the beach,  swimming, water polo and water skiing - and had gone to schools which had not a single black person in them.  In fact, it wasn't until I went in the Army that I actually met a black person.  It wasn't something I worried about - I just never gave it a thought.

BARELY AWARE OF THE SPEECH
Dr. King's speech was near the end of the summer of 1963 and I remember being vaguely aware of it.  I was busy working, dating, water skiing and having a good old time.  Then I got my draft notice.

CALLED TO DUTY
It was the beginning of the ramp-up of the Viet Nam War and my lottery number came up.  I recall taking my draft physical exam, but not being particularly worried about joining the Army.  The thought never crossed my mind to somehow evade the draft.  It was a duty I felt obligated to fulfill.  Then John F. Kennedy was killed just three weeks before I was scheduled to be inducted.

BURNED IN MY MEMORY
I still recall that day like it was yesterday.  I was measuring homes for carpet and was on my way to Santa Monica for my next assignment and couldn't find any music on my car radio.  The wind was blowing over my buzz-cut head - as a swimmer, I hadn't had hair longer than about an eighth of an inch for a couple years - as I drove my '57 Chevy convertible to the next job with the top down.  It was a perfect southern California day.  Finally, I just quit pushing buttons on my old AM radio and listened to the news and heard of Kennedy's assassination.  Not quite sure what I should be doing, I continued to the home, rang the bell and an elderly gentleman answered with tears in his eyes.  On the black and white television I could see news reports of the event.  I offered to reschedule, but he and his wife invited me in and I spent the next half hour crawling around their home, measuring the rooms,  listening to the news in the background and hearing both of them sobbing quietly.  I'll never forget that day.

THE ARMY
The middle of December I was inducted into the Army and I finally had my first up-close-and personal experiences with black men, although it didn't really register that they were black - we were all in the same boat, dealing with the stress that was basic training at Fort Ord.  I do recall our drill instructor - a very fit black sergeant who relished chiding us as he did one-armed push-ups.  The objective was to break us down physically and mentally, then rebuild us to become soldiers.  They generally succeeded.

THE BIG APPLE
After basic training I was sent, along with three classmates, to New York City, where my typing speed on a frigid, damp winter morning at Fort Ord had qualified me to be a clerk at the Army Pictorial Center - formerly the Paramount Studios - in Queens.  It was an unusual post.  The main facility was the studio and our barracks building was just across the street.  For the next several months I was a soldier in New York City, trying to deal with life in the big city on $99.00 a month, gross.  It was an experience unlike anything before in my life -  and it was then that I made my very first black friend.

FAST FRIENDSHIP
Hayes Manning and I were two of four guys who shared a "bay" - a cranny with two sets of bunk beds and a chair and table in that large barracks building.  We didn't choose each other - we were thrown together - but we developed a friendship in our few months together that lasted the rest of his lifetime - he died a couple years ago.

MY FRIEND
Hayes was an educated man from San Francisco - a bit of a snob with a very interesting life.  His father went to Harvard and his mother attended Radcliffe.  His aunt Joyce was married to jazz promoter George Wein- the man behind the Newport Jazz Festival, who has been described as "the most important non-player in jazz history."  I only mention this because Hayes and I would occasionally take the subway to Aunt Joyce's house on Central Park West and just hang out - an island of respite from our military lives.  In almost every case jazz musicians of world renown would also be there, hanging out and playing their music.  It was a surreal time for me, with Uncle George and I the only white men in the building most of the time.  Folks like Thelonius Monk, Charlie Parker, Dizzy Gillespie and John Coltrane, for example, were regulars.  These were the black people in my life at that  time.

A BIG DECISION
Several months later I applied and was accepted to the Warrant Officer Flight school to learn to fly helicopters.  The Viet Nam War was escalating and the Army needed pilots - bus drivers to shuttle soldiers around the battlefields.  I didn't want to waste my time in the Army sitting on my fanny, typing orders all day - that seems very ironic now, considering how I spend most of my days.  So, in October of 1964 off I went to the primary flight school just outside Fort Worth, Texas.

MISSISSIPPI BURNING
In the meantime, deep in the south, three young civil rights workers were kidnapped and killed just outside Philadelphia, Mississippi.  You'll understand why I mention this shortly.

FLIGHT SCHOOL
I went to rotary wing flight school and excelled.  I was the second man in my class of 142 to pass my solo check ride after 5 hours of instruction. I would have been the first, but I blew my first check ride.  That's another story.  Unfortunately, after three months of flying, an eye problem grounded me just as my class was moving on the the Advanced School at Fort Rucker, Alabama - deep, deep in the armpit of the south.  I transferred with my class, but never flew a helicopter again. 

DRIVING THROUGH THE SOUTH
On the way from the primary school I drove myself and my best friend in flight school across Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi and on into Alabama.  We crossed Mississippi a few miles from Philadelphia at a time when racial tension was extreme.  In fact, as we drove through Montgomery, Alabama before turning south to Fort Rucker - which was near the Alabama, Florida, Georgia borders - we crossed the Pettus Bridge, the day before the first so-called Freedom March.  Having been sequestered in flight school for a few months, we didn't know a thing about it, although we did see a couple hundred state trooper cars at the barracks on the north side of the bridge.  At the time, although I didn't know it, my friend had a loaded .357 Magnum pistol under his seat in the car.  If we, two white guys in a car with California plates, had been stopped and that gun found we'd have been lucky to go to jail.  I recall thinking at the time that you could cut the tension with a knife - it was very much like pre-lynch scenes in "B" movies of the 1940's.  It was a strange time.

MY CLASS
So, off we went to Fort Rucker where my friend and my other classmates finished their training and graduated in July - 87 of the 142 made it.  Of those men, 80 went to the First Cavalry Division (Air mobile) at Fort Benning, Georgia, five went directly to Viet Nam and two went to Korea, then were assigned on temporary duty to Viet Nam.  The entire First Cav. Division went en masse to Viet Nam in September, so my entire class was there within a few months of graduation.  Six of them didn't make it through their first tour.

SURREAL WORLD
I, on the other hand, remained at Fort Rucker while the Army tested me for the eye problem.  They never figured it out, so I served the remainder of my enlistment there in the bowels of bigotry.  This was a part of the country that really hadn't yet joined the 20th Century.  In those days folks in Alabama worshiped University of Alabama football coach Bear Bryant, Governor George Wallace and God, in that order.  In Dothan - the closest town of any size to the post - blacks still had separate restrooms and drinking fountains and were required to buy tickets to the movies on the opposite side of the ticket window and were forced to sit in the balcony.  Three weeks before I left active duty a cross was burned on the lawn of a black sergeant ON POST!

MURDER THE NORM
During the 1960's the KKK still dominated much of the social and political life in the American South.  Children were being murdered as black churches were burned with them inside.  Black men were lynched with regularity.

WATTS RIOTS
Some of you will remember that the summer of 1965 was the time of the Watts Riots.  I recall sitting in the day room in our company area watching television before the riots - blacks and whites co-mingled and having a good old time.  However, when the riots began everything changed.  Blacks would sit on one side of the day room and cheer as the television showed black looters dragging televisions and other stuff out of stores.  The whites sat on the other side of the day room and cheered when the National Guard opened fire.  It was never the same again.

TROUBLED TIMES
I got out of the Army near the end of 1965, just as Viet Nam was boiling over, got a job, got married, and with my lovely and patient wife, moved around the country for my employer for several years before settling here in Costa Mesa 40 years ago.  We lived in Houston in the late 1960s when it was the murder capitol of the country - mostly blacks killing blacks - and many of our native Texan friends still uttered the "N-Word" in casual conversation. 

EVENTS...
During those years, as we moved around the country and later,  Bobby Kennedy and Martin Luther King were assassinated, Ronald Reagan was shot, Richard Nixon resigned in disgrace, Bill Clinton set a new low bar for personal behavior in office, a father and son named Bush served as President, we managed to embroil ourselves in yet another unpopular war in a far away place and this country elected a black man as President - twice.

DREAM UNFULFILLED
And yet, a half-century later, Dr. King's dream remains unfulfilled.  Black unemployment is double - in some areas triple - the average and many of our black-dominated cities are in deep trouble.  Detroit is the best/worst example of that.

SCHOOLS FAILING, PRISONS PACKED
Most large metropolitan schools are fully integrated - and many are failing.  Prisons are filled to overflowing, and the biggest demographic in those prisons is black young men.  According to recent statistics, non-Hispanic blacks - which represent just under 14% of the population - account for  more than 39% of the prison population.  1 in 11 black men are in prison!  Let that sink in a little.  Over 9% of black men in this country are in prison!

LAGGING BEHIND
By every measure of success blacks lag significantly behind whites in this country - education, economic prosperity - you name it.  I sit here, in a community where the black population is tiny and even smaller in the community with which we share a common border to the south.  We are in an area where we just don't have much to do with black Americans, so we don't think about them very much. 

WHY?
So, today, on this anniversary - a date that most black Americans will celebrate and many white Americans will not - I wonder why more progress has not been made in the half-century since Dr. King uttered those words, "I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character."   

NEVER AGAIN

I lived in the South in the 1960's. I know from first hand experience what Dr. King was talking about.  I don't want to see anything resembling that terrible time to occur in this country again.  Take a couple minutes and read the full text of Dr. King's speech, HERE.  If you wish to view it, you can do so by clicking HERE.  Whether you celebrate this day or not - whether you admired the man, or not - the message Dr. Martin Luther King delivered fifty years ago today should be remembered by all of us, for the message of hope it delivered and for the reminder that we still have a long, long way to go on that path.

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