designation of a whole group of people as second-class citizens. I’d never lived in a place
where the whole of society agreed that it was okay to do that.
Things went from bad to worse. I’d been invited to dinner at the home of some new
acquaintances, and I made the mistake of asking about the racial attitudes I was
encountering all over the place. I thought that my hosts, a genteel couple of obvious breed-
ing, might be able to offer me some insight.
I got some insight, all right, but not the kind I’d expected.
Bristling as he held up his wine glass to be refilled by an elderly black servant named
Thomas, my host drawled through a strained smile, “Well, now, my new fray-end, Ah hope
y’all won’t judge us too harshly. You see, we feel ree-all kindly toward our coloreds heah.
Yessir, we do. Why, we treat them as regular members of the family.” He turned to Thomas.
“Now ain’t that right, boy?”
I winced. The man didn’t even know what he was doing.
Thomas, however, was not so unaware. He whispered, “That’s a fact, Captain. That’s a fact,”
and quietly left the room.
Now these days when I see blatant injustice, my first impulse is not to walk away from it, but
to move toward it; to try to understand what sponsors it; to see if I can do anything to help
heal it. But those were younger days when my heart was just deciding about its truth, not
acting on it. And so, I simply wanted out. In the worst way. I had no tolerance for intolerance.
I understood nothing about that level of prejudice, I understood nothing about what today we
would call the Black Experience—and I just wanted to get away from the whole thing.
I cried out to God, “Get me out of here. “I couldn’t imagine how I was going to actually leave
very quickly, though. Broadcasting is a very specialized field, and jobs in the market of one’s
choice are not easy to find. I felt that I was lucky to be working anywhere.
Of course, I hadn’t counted on God’s friendship. In those days I still thought of God as
Someone who would answer prayers sometimes, ignore prayers other times, and punish me
severely for all time if I died with sins on my soul. These days I know that God answers
prayers all the time—and I also know that everything we think, say, and do is a prayer, and
produces a response from God. That’s what a good friend He is! But in the sixties I didn’t
understand that, so I wasn’t exactly expecting a miracle here.
Imagine my surprise when I got one.
It was a phone call, out of the blue, from a complete stranger. A man identifring himself as
Tom Feldman called. “You don’t know me, but I got your name from Marvin Mervis 1~the
owner of the station I worked for] in Annapolis. I’m looking for a program director for our radio
station in Baltimore. Marvin says you’re a talented guy. Would you be interested in coming up
here for an interview?”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Are you kidding? I shouted inside my head. “Yes, I think
I could arrange that,” I said to Tom Feldman.
“There’s one thing you should know though.” He continued, “This is an all-black radio station.
Ah, yes, I remember that. That was clever of Me, wasn’t it?