While reading teacherken's diary about the Greensboro, NC Woolworth's lunch counter protest I was reminded of an event I witnessed three years later in that same city, where I then lived. I was twelve years old on May 22, 1963 when our family went to the silent march.
It was 1962, I was eleven years old and our family lived outside of Scranton, PA when Dad came home after work one evening and broke the news that we were moving to Greensboro, NC after school was out. I was crushed. At that tender age friends become the world to you and I couldn't imagine having to say goodbye. I did so in June of that year and we went to Greensboro which was like a foreign country to me. The accents, food, Piggly Wiggly grocery stores, everything was different!
When I entered seventh grade that fall the first thing I was asked was "are you a Yankee or a Rebel?". I'd never thought about that before but figured since I was born in New Jersey and moved from Pennsylvania I must be a Yankee, so that's how I answered. I didn't say it aloud but inside I was thinking, "what is this crap?". At any rate, I adjusted, made new friends and got along with my life.
I remember a lot of the kids talking about "demonstrations" but had no frame of reference on the subject until my parents began explaining to my brother and me about the Civil Rights movement that was taking place not just all over the nation but right there in Greensboro. Having never seen a Black person before I still didn't totally understand it all but Dad and Mom made it clear that segregation and suppression of human rights were wrong and how they hoped this movement would succeed.
Over time there were more demonstrations in Greensboro and my folks kept talking about them and educating us kids as to the importance of what was happening. While doing research for this diary I found this account in Wikipedia.
Then Dad came home from work and told Mom we needed to have a quick dinner because there was going to be a silent march downtown and he wanted our family to go. Dad, even to this day a history buff, knew history was going to be made that night and he wanted us to witness it. I remember during the ride into town Dad kept telling us not to make one sound, not even a peep. This was a silent march and we kids were to respect that.
We arrived and found a spot on the side of the street and waited. Even as I write this my heart beat is increasing, just like it did then, in anticipation of what we would see and experience. Nothing could have prepared me for it.
Seemingly all of a sudden there were thousands of Blacks, marching in solidarity, completely and utterly quiet. The only thing heard was the sound of footsteps. It was as if all of these people, with such resolute yet serene looks on their faces were clouds, drifting, beautiful clouds. On and on they came in amazing numbers with not one sound uttered. And then they were gone. It was over.
More from Wikipedia about the silent march we saw...
On May 22, 1963 more than two thousand African Americans of all ages and classes silently marched to downtown Greensboro to show their dedication to achieving racial equality, making it the largest march in the city’s history. Following the march, Mayor David Schenck appointed a new negotiating committee headed by Dr. George Evans, an African American physician and local school board member, to encourage business owners to desegregate.7 An emboldened Coordinating Council then presented the city leadership with a list of broad demands that they required in order to call off further marches. In addition to a public accommodations ordinance outlawing racial segregation, they requested demonstrators’ charges be dismissed, fully desegregated schools and staff, promotion of black officers, and the hiring of blacks in other city departments.8 On May 24, black activists agreed to a temporary halt of their demonstrations while the Evans Committee undertook negotiations.
During the ride home none of my family spoke. In fact, we didn't talk about the silent march we had seen until later the next day. I never asked why no one else said anything, I was too awestruck by it all to do anything but think about it for a long while. Even at that young age I knew I was honored to have been there. I've never forgotten that silent march, can still see it in my mind's eye, and clearly see the faces of the people while they were marching. Serene, resolute, dignified.
There were more demonstrations in Greensboro following the silent march we attended until, finally, President Lyndon Johnson signed the Civil Rights Act into law on July 2, 1964.
How amazing now, at age 59, to realize that Dad was correct, we were witnessing history, we were right there during the dismantling of segregation, honoring the silent march by being silent and being there.