Back in my youth I spent some time in South Carolina with my grandmother, Ma Cile. Having come from Mount Vernon, NY during the 50's and not fully understanding the ugly face of segregation, I wasn't prepared for it.
Just to cut to the chase, I'd gone to work with Ma Cile. She used to do "day work" to supplement her income as the cook for Palmetto High School in Williamston, SC. Williamston, SC wasn't any different from the other segregated southern towns with one exception. I lived there!
I'd done something that day that I hated; I'd scrubbed the wooden floors on my skinny knees. Anyway, I took my little fifteen cents and bounded for downtown Williamston, SC to buy a hot dog at Woolworths. It was a local five and dime with just a smidgen of what the present day Walmart offers.
On this particular day, I was full of joy. I'd made a little money from a job I hated and I was going to pay for a hot dog. Oh, and I was going downtown by myself.
Well, I paid for my hot dog and then proceeded to do the unthinkable. I was about to put my young life in jeopardy by SITTING ON A DOGGONE STOOL!!! Long story-short, I was called an "uppity nigger" and asked to get off the stool and eat my hot dog outside. I refused and all hell broke out!
Since everyone in Williamston knew one another (not necessarily respected or even liked one another) someone contacted my eldest brother, Herbert. He was about thirteen years older and I figured he was coming down there to break those "white folks" neck for disrespecting his little sister.
WRONG!! Herbert rushed downtown and snatched me off that stool. He started where the white folks left off. I thought he was going to kill me. AND, HE APOLOGIZED to the white folks.
Well for years I held that against my brother. Even though I later learned that if Ma Cile hadn't been so well loved (as much as they could love back then) that I might've gone missing that day. I also learned that on that day, my brother Herbert swallowed his pride to save my behind. He traded his manhood for my life.
This past Friday, I was one of the performers at the Jo Brown Senior Citizen Center. I didn't quite know what to expect when I came face-to-face with a large crowd of primarily caucasian, white-haired, seniors. But I did my comedy and they were howling with laughter. It went very well.
After the performance when I was interviewed by one of the TV anchormen, Paul Brown, he asked about my feelings of returning to Anderson, SC. That question opened up the flood gates to that particular memory and others. I related the story of the Woolworth hot dog incident. Just saying it aloud truly freed me and when I looked at Mr. Brown, a White man, he had tears in his eyes. He'd apologized to me with his tears. I half expected him to say, "cut!" but he didn't. And what made this interchange all the more revealing was the following...
Without knowing my pain, they'd supplied a Limo that took me everywhere I had to go. There were several write ups in various newspapers about my return and my career. There was a large blow up of my current book, "Cruisin' on Desperation" in the pull out section of the Anderson Independent newspaper. Several politicians attended one of my performances at the Jo Brown Senior Citizen. Folks from all over, including a white State Trooper, came by WRIX-FM to meet me as well as attend the book signings. There was a group of young black men from a local barbara shop that heralded my coming. The bookstores: HolPress sold completely out of my books. And, BooksAMillion only had two left on their shelves. And don't get me started about having the inspiration for the movie, Radio, come to meet me. This beloved, mentally-challenged, man had me in awe. We took pictures and he gave me advice. Radio said, "Pray; Don't drink alcohol and listen to your mama." It was precious.
And the love continued. Even the Morris/Robinson Family Reunion (one of the events I was to perform at) had to open their celebration held at the Anderson Civic Center to the public. People wanted to come to my performance. I thank SoBold Entertainment for their generosity in doing so.
The love and respect shown was more than I could ever imagine. And on a final note; I was able to tell the good citizens of Pelzer, SC that all was forgiven. They finally found out why the settings for my books was always in Pelzer, SC. It was because every time I tried to escape the racism of that period by running away, I'd only get as far as Pelzer. There was always some white folks that knew Ma Cile and would promptly return my skinny butt to her so she could mete out justice. I promised I'd get Pelzer some day. So now I've managed to put the small town on the map and they don't have a bookstore :-)
All of this to say that God is awesome! All the years I'd wasted and subsconsciously (sometimes) held a grudge against the racist elements I'd faced in my youth was already handled. God knew my future. The South had chased me away on a Greyhound Bus and welcomed me back with a Limo and much fanfare.