Surrounded by History – and confused

In the past few years I have realized that growing up in Birmingham and reaching maturity in the 1960s, I was surrounded by History.  At times, it felt like History was literally pulling me into its widening vortex.

I was fifteen in the spring of 1963.  As a white Birmingham teenager observing the critical events in our city at a great distance, I was confused. (more…)

I had nightmares about the three coffins

In the fall of 1963, we were shocked by the vicious and cowardly bombing of the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church, one of Birmingham’s most prominent African American churches. We soon learned that four innocent young African American girls had been killed; I was devastated to hear that one of them was a good friend and classmate, Cynthia. I’ll never forget that Sunday morning in church at Sixth Avenue Baptist, when our minister, Reverend Porter, announced that our sister church had been bombed. Congregation members immediately left their seats, in a state of shock, because our relatives and friends belonged to that church. (more…)

Waiting 50 years for “Prom we never had”

1963 was pure hell for me beginning in January.  We were human; however, we were not treated as such.  Things were totally different. There was a separation of Black people and White people at this time.  By this time things began to change in our city and it was really sad to know that you were thought of as nothing but an unacceptable person.  You could not sit beside a White person on the bus and you couldn’t sit and dine with them either.  We could not go to the better movie theaters nor could we try on clothing that we attempted to purchase.

By this time in my heart I knew it was time for a change. My only thought was, when, where, and how. (more…)

Children, don’t answer the phone!!

CHILDREN, DON’T ANSWER THE PHONE!! In 1963, there weren’t yet any smartphones, cellphones, cordless, or touchtone phones, no answering machines or voicemail. At our home on Shades Crest Road in Vestavia, we did have at least 4 phones…rotary, desktop, wall, and a princess phone throughout the sprawling bi-level. We had all been taught how to politely answer & take a message. So my 2 brothers & I found it strange in the autumn of 1963 that our parents suddenly instructed us NOT to answer the phone. The tone of their voices when they gave this directive conveyed urgency; we obeyed, of course. Just let the phone ring, they said, or one of us will answer it!

It wasn’t until years later that we would come to understand why we could not pick up the phone during that turbulent time. September was always my favorite month, and remains so to this day (more…)

Terrorism is nothing new to us

I can remember when the first black families tried to buy homes on the other side of Center Street, which marked Birmingham’s color line. If you wanted to get a house on the west side of Center Street chances are you were going to have some resistance from white folks. At first, the Ku Klux Klan would burn the doors of the houses that African-Americans moved into. Sometimes members of the Klan would fire shots into the dark of night. Those big cathedral windows were what were being shot at all of the time.

We all knew a dynamite blast was coming when we heard decommissioned police cruisers burning rubber up Center Street. Flying up the hill. (more…)