A Civil Rights Sit-In

It's a time in history that I never thought to see happen in my lifetime. Our nation has elected the first African-American to the highest office in the land; the president. I'm so proud of everyone who felt inspired by this man, Barack Obama, and chose him not for the color of his skin, but for the quality of his character. I believe he will be a good president, as he inspires so much hope to our nation.

It is even more fitting that his inauguration happens just one day after Martin Luther King, Jr.'s national holiday. It is with history in the making in mind that I chose today to share an historical personal story with you. The story is not my own, but my mother's. She told me this story last week as we sat watching a civil rights movie titled "The Autobiography of Ms. Jane Pittman". During a scene centering around the 1960's civil rights movement, my mom remembered her own experience with that time.

It was after 1958, but before 1962, in Key West, Florida. My mom, Lynda, worked as a waitress at a five and dime diner inside the old S. H. Kress Co. building located at 500 Duval Street. She'd been a waitress since the age of 16, and had continued on after her graduation from Key West High School. She said that although "the work was hard", she "always had money in my pocket at the end of the day to buy milk and bread" for herself, and my older sister, who was just a toddler at the time.

The Kress diner had a long, white counter with a soda fountain in the middle. A large grill flanked one end where customers could watch the burgers sizzle while the short-order cook flipped them onto buns. Stools lined the counter, and customers filled them, and the nearby tables, daily for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. My mom, wearing her white waitressing uniform, with a black apron tied around her waist, waited on her usual patrons while the other waitresses bustled back and forth, filling orders. My mother was an all-American looking girl, with blonde hair, blue eyes, and dimple in one cheek. Everyone knew Lynda in Key West.

One afternoon, shortly after the lunch rush began, a bus pulled into the bus stop which was just down the street from the diner at that time (it was moved to a different location in later years). A number of well-dressed African-Americans (men and women) stepped off that bus, walked inside the diner, and sat down at the lunch counter. Everyone sitting inside stopped what they were doing, and you could hear a pin drop. Why, you ask? Because at this particular time in history, the Kress diner served white customers only. The only persons of color in that diner worked in the kitchen. As unbelievable as this is to me today, it was the reality of that time, in the Deep South.

My mother, who saw these folks as only more customers, began walking towards them to take their order. The old, black cook, Louise, who had been the cook for the Kress diner as long as people could remember, stopped her. "Don't you go over there, Lynda. Them are northerners bent on causing trouble." Miss Louise held the opinion, as many southern blacks did at the time, that the northern blacks often caused more harm than good. So my mom waited. She and her fellow waitresses stared at each other while the patrons in the diner all gaped at the sit-in that began before their very eyes.

Comments flew from the mouths of some of the white customers, mostly under their breath, while the protestors sat quietly, waiting to be waited on. Someone called the local police, who arrived not more than 20 minutes later. The police did nothing but observe and try to keep the peace. You see, by this time in history, public places had already been desegregated by law, but not many had actually applied the practice of that law.

Finally, their order was taken; coffee! They all ordered only coffee which they drank, paid for, then left. It was quite peaceful, as demonstrations go, but it proved the point of the law. A few reporters snapped pictures of the sit-in as it happened, and the story was front page news in the Key West Citizen the very next day. I tried to get a copy of that story from the Monroe County Library Historian, Tom Hambright, but not having an exact date/year made it impossible for him to go through all those old copies (which they still have) and locate it. He did check his microfiche index, but didn't find this particular story.

My mom hasn't forgotten this story although it has been over 48 years. She didn't view it as a significant moment in history then, but I do. I see it as just the beginning, the start of realizing a dream where Americans can learn, sometimes forcefully, sometimes peacefully, to get along, and judge each other not from our cover, but from our character.

So far, I've seen the end of the Vietnam conflict, Korea, Desert Storm, the end of the cold war, the destruction of the Berlin Wall, the bombing of U.S. Embassies, 9-11, and the war in Iraq and Afghanistan. I'm sure there is more, but through all the bad, there has been some good. And there is none better, in my opinion, than the hope that now fills these United States as we swear in the nations first African-American president (something no other nation has yet to do!), tomorrow at noon, on the steps of the Capital building. The dream, once preached so eloquently by the late Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., on those very same steps, has taken a giant step towards its realization. The dream is not yet complete, but we have made magnificent progress through this historic election.

So, from early civil rights marches, sit-ins, protests, and demonstrations, aided by people of all races, creeds, sexes, religions, and ages, we step into the light of a brighter day; a light that shines as a beacon of hope, of inspiration to all those who seek unity and equality.

I'm proud of our nation on this day. I hope that no one forgets where the struggle began, and that everyone remembers, as only Dr. King can say it, to "keep hope alive!"