Full circle Usually, I hesitate to write about
history with a poet’s passion. But I want to do that now.
“No one showed, so I’ll take my daughters out to dinner,”
said the black Councilman, a tall and personable man I’d known and respected
for 15 years. Although the block party that had barricaded our short street
since 3:00 p.m. had been bad for business, as a political rally, it had come
and gone like an empty bandwagon. Other than a handful who’d come to hear a
stellar (and local!) rap artist, only the organizers and their coterie
attended. It proved a perfect day to play basketball in the middle of Union
Street.
Even so, a few found their way into our store. One was a
long time customer, Steve, who had moved to Hillsborough. I showed him changes
that are in the works, new construction and renovation that will literally
change the momentum of our city. He was shocked.
And I was about to be. Two women walked into our store. I
assumed they’d come from the rally. That wasn’t the case; they’d come to see
me. I knew one of the women. She was the title search wizard at the bank across
the street. “My friend wants to rent one of the offices in your building next
door,” she said.
Impressed with our renovation of that building, I suggested
a tour of my apartment, “Upstairs,” I pointed. Only the banker had time.
She loved it. “I’m from New Jersey,” she said. “This is like
something I might see up there. I want to see this in all of these buildings.”
Downstairs, our conversation shifted. We talked about the Civil
Rights Era when she her family had lived in Danville. “That’s why my parents
left,” she said. “I grew up away from events like Bloody Monday.” She explained
that her parents didn’t want her to grow up afraid of the harm segregation
might cause. Although she would come to know that her parents regretted the
limitations placed on blacks in southern Virginia, she grew up knowing little
about the denial of civil rights in the south.
“But when I started working at the bank, I learned about
Maceo Martin. His daughter works in our bank!” She was excited. “She has so
many stories to tell.”
I wanted to hear them, especially because, although my
family was in the middle of that Civil Rights Era in Danville, I didn’t know
the man. “Maceo was a visionary. His daughter told me about the time when she
was ten years old. Her father told her to get on the city bus and to sit in the
front. She loved her father so she did what he said to do.”
I was intrigued. Maceo had instructed his daughter to be
polite, not to argue. He’d explained that she might not be allowed to ride the
bus if she sat in the front seat. If so, she was to leave the bus, then walk to
his bank, not many blocks from where she got on the bus.
“The driver refused to move the bus, said he wouldn’t go
unless she sat in back. She told him she was comfortable sitting right where
she was. He asked her three times. Each time she refused. Then he called the
police. A policeman came and escorted her off the bus.”
From there, she walked to her Dad’s office at the bank. “She
was afraid,” the banker told me. “But she did what her Dad told her to do.”
I wanted to hear more, asked whether I could meet Maceo’s
daughter. Then I mentioned my Dad and his Civil Rights work, that he had the
first integrated staff in Danville. We talked about that for a while, about
Rev. Lawrence Campbell and his sons.
“When it was my turn,” I said, “I tried to integrate one of
the area’s private golf courses.” Briefly, I explained how I had secured a
share of stock for a black realtor who was an avid golfer.
When I mentioned his name, she was surprised as if I’d just
called out her lottery ticket number. A moment later, she explained why.
“Of course, I know him. He was married to Maceo’s daughter!”
B. Koplen 9/16/12
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about Maceo Martin:
In 1948, Maceo
Martin, an African American from Danville, Va., tried to enter Staunton
River State Park and was refused. www.dcr.virginia.gov/state_parks/his_parx.shtml
…Maceo Martin, an African American from Danville,
Va., tried to enter Staunton River State Park and was refused. Martin
subsequently filed suit against the Virginia Conservation Commission, to test
the validity of the commission’s policy of not providing overnight facilities
in state parks for persons of color. According to the Board of Conservation and
Development minutes of Dec. 2, 1948, the commission “desiring to provide
comparable facilities for the Negroes…decided to expand the facilities of the
Negro recreational area in Prince Edward County.” …in 1950, keeping with the
separate but equal doctrine, Virginia opened Prince Edward State Park for Negroes,
with facilities comparable to those in other state parks…eight Virginia state
parks, however, continued to operate under a policy of racial segregation.
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