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Reverend Marion Bascom's Civil Righting
Interviewed by
Katie Lambert, Jackie Spriggs, and Kerry Zaleski
4 November 2006
Rev. Bascom:
We’re very pleased to have you here. It might be that
there are some things I have forgotten. One of the
unfortunate things about my life, I never thought, prior
to the disturbances, that I would be involved, as I
became involved. Therefore, I did not write much of what
could have been written down. I guess, there have always
been disturbances, but not riots.
I, one time, was a
pastor of a church in Florida, St. Augustine, where I
first got some real tastes of what was going on in our
world. I lived across the street from a funeral home,
where I was a friend to the funeral director, Llyoce
(spelling?) Johnson. That was in St. John’s County, one
of the largest potato producing, Irish potato-producing,
counties in the country. There was a sheriff down there
named Shepard, I can’t remember his first name, but I
remember distinctly that he, at one time, more than one
time, called Lloyce Johnson, who was an undertaker and
say, “Llyoce, there’s a dead nigger down in Hastings in
the potato field. I want you to go down and get the body
and bury it. Don’t worry about any certifications, just
bury the body.”
And of course,
Llyoce, being single, and sort of frightened, did what
he told her to do. In the mean time, I called a lady,
Mrs. Elsie, who was the superintendent, supervisor of
elections, and suggested that she would hold, bring down
to our church the [election] books, so that colored
people in those days could register to vote, because
they were afraid to go downtown to register. I guess
that, along with . . . and I might say that she did it,
and as a result, several hundred people were registered
to vote, particularly colored people, and so as a
result, I guess I got interested [in civil rights].
And then I came to
Baltimore, where I became rather active in what was
going on here. There were some groups, the National
Association for the Advancement of Colored People here,
headed by
Miss Lilly Jackson, there was the
Baltimore
Urban League, which was headed by
Furman Templeton.
Of course, there were splinter groups. Students were
becoming at a point of unrest. I guess that before the
disturbances you might also say that. when I came to
Baltimore, of course, it was in 1949, there were no
facilities, eating facilities for blacks outside of the
black community.
In 1954, when I
became a member of the Grand Jury of Baltimore, although
I was a member of the Grand Jury, and we met downtown
every morning during the week for a three month period,
there was no where downtown where blacks (Negroes . . .
colored people) could go and buy food.
I guess you hear me
saying Negro, colored, and now black. These are the
different phases that we have come through. And now
there’s Afro-American. So in my life, I’ve been colored,
Negro, black, and now I’m Afro-American,
African-American. So, that, I guess, pretty much tells
you something of where I was and what I was about, prior
to the disturbances.
Jackie: Now,
we’re going to go to the disturbances. What was life
like during the disturbances?
Rev. Bascom:
During the disturbances, interestingly enough, I don’t
know where you would begin to call them disturbances.
During the most prominent part of the disturbances,
centered around the assassination of Martin Lither King.
Fortunately, I got to know him fairly well, and it was
in 1968, I think, that the real flare-up came in the
disturbances, when he was murdered.
During that period,
I was a member of the Board of Fire Commissioners of
Baltimore City, so that I got a chance to see much of
the disturbances firsthand. I wore a white hat, and a
gold (a brass) badge, which indicated that I could go
around the city at will. So that police and anybody else
[who] stopped me, so that when curfew time came, I was
not obliged to go in, I could stay out and see what was
going on.
I call it
disturbances, because in a real sense, there was, during
that time, so much hope—HOPE—that things would change. I
have not begun to tell you about going across Route 40
and stopping at the diners and being refused to be
served. Now you go to the Double T Diner now, you just
go in as if nothing’s happening. But police stood guard
against colored people going in to the diner.
Let me just tell
you a little story quickly, it was a group of people—George
Collins, who was with Afro-American newspapers,
Logan Pierce, who was pastor of a local church here in
the city, and one or two more—who dressed as if they
were Africans and foreign dignitaries and they went to
Miller’s Restaurant which was on Fayette Street and they
were served. Only to find out later that they had served
local blacks in this fabulous restaurant downtown. Just
as an aside...
Katie:
That’s a great story! That’s a wonderful story.
Rev. Bascom:
Of course, I suspect I told you as much about it as
possible. Other than to say that, as I was saying there
was so much hope in the community and it was shattered
by the untimely death of Martin Luther King—and the town
went crazy. Not only Baltimore, but almost every city in
the country experienced the same thing, it was almost as
if blacks in every community had suddenly been
inoculated with a hypodermic needle and caught the
disease of disturbance. And so they began to set fires,
and it was just horrible. You could smell smoke anywhere
in Baltimore City.
An aside, which
isn’t of historical significance, but the story goes
that an old lady was seen carrying a small television
during the disturbances, and word goes that she said,
“The Lord blessed me with this television,” even though
she had broken out a window in one of the local stores
and gotten the television, at the expense of the
store—well, that’s sort of a funny aside.
But it was a
terrible time, and it was during this time that one of
the major meetings in this city was held, when
Spiro
Agnew was governor. Let me back up and say that
Spiro Agnew was a Republican, and three or four of us
preachers went to see him in Towson, and he said to me,
“Every time I see you, I’m repulsed.” and I said, “Well,
that’s a problem you’ll have to overcome.” and I don’t
think he ever did. But I, in a characteristically
preacherish way, said well, you’ll have to overcome it.
In the meantime,
he
called many blacks downtown to his President Street
office, and he began to berate the colored, Negro, black
community for their backing up and not protesting other
blacks who were running rampant in the streets. Because
this was also the time when
General
[George] Gelston was the police commissioner, and it
was
General Gelston [during the 1968 Baltimore riots
commanded the National Guard force and also was given
control of the city and state police forces in the city
(approximately 1,900 police officers)] who told us one
day as we sat in his office in the armory, “We now have
guns that are able to with, to, pick out a person at the
corner of North and Pennsylvania, from where we are
standing, identify that person and shoot them.” Which
showed the power of the police, but you see, it wasn’t
just the local police, but the State Police and the
National Guard, which will show you the intensity of the
disturbances at that time.
So he called us to,
Governor Agnew, called us and said “When the trouble
came, you leaders ran.” And he began to berate those of
us who were there. I don’t know how many, there must
have been at least 50 so-called black leaders. I don’t
want to take credit, nor do I want to give credit to
anybody else, but simultaneously, we got up and started
walking out on the governor. We moved on out of the
governor’s office, and came up to our church, and our
church was on the corner of Lafayette and Madison
Avenue, where we met to decide and to discuss what sort
of action we would take as a result of what had
happened.
Maybe I’ve answered
your question or maybe I’ve over-answered it . . .
Katie: Not
at all, not at all.
Jackie: Ok,
we’re going to move on right now, Could you describe
life for us after the disturbances?
Rev. Bascom:
Well, life for us after the disturbances is still trying
to learn each other as human beings. One of the
tragedies, I think, blessing or tragedy, it seems to me,
lies in the fact that American society has developed
around racial consciousness. So that even to this day,
when I go into an establishment that is white-owned and
operated, I have the feeling that someone is sort of
watching me. I think all blacks are sensitive of it, of
that same feeling, so that we have developed a society
where, unconsciously, we are not able to react to others
as human beings. We sort of get the feeling that we’re
getting put upon.
Since the
disturbances, you may be sure that the climate has
gotten better for some, but the climate still is bad for
many blacks, and Hispanics, in Baltimore. This is true
from the fence that the president is presently building,
so that at present, we are in a state of flux. I don’t
know what’s going to happen. I can only hope that this
multicultural life that we live in this country can find
a sense of developing real relationships. I would say
this, that blacks have a long way to go in terms of
equality in this country—equal treatment. I guess I’d
rather use that phrase rather than equality—equal
treatment. Because we really don’t know what America
will become, will be like, when there is equality of
treatment, equal opportunities.
And I suspect that
is the point at which I am most discouraged. If you
asked me, how do you feel about the present, I have some
sad feelings about the present, and yet I find some
bright nooks here and there as we deal with what is
happening in the present. I don’t have any
statistics—statisticians will have to work that out in
years to come, but I guess that’s about the best way I
can put it for how things are going now.
Jackie:
There was one question that I had on my mind, and I was
wondering what role did the churches play in restoring
peace to the city after the death of Dr. King?
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Rev.
Bascom: Well, the churches have played a
significant role in the movement.
Interestingly enough, I was on the
Selma March, the second march. I was on
the march where
Viola Liuzzo was murdered in Alabama—the
white woman from Detroit who left family and
everybody else and came to be a part of the
movement. Churches provided transportation
for the movement.
For
example, I decided I was going to Selma. I
really didn’t have any money to go to Selma,
so I said to our congregation one Sunday
morning; I want to give you the privilege of
sending me to Selma. (Laughter)
And I
said let the . . . come forward and receive
an offering for my expenses to go to Selma.
Fortunately, the church gave me enough money
that Sunday morning not only for me to go,
but there was another preacher, Herbert
Edwards, who was the pastor of Trinity
Baptist Church, he did not have any money,
and our church, I gave him enough money out
of my offering so that he could go round
trip to Selma, with me. |
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Another example:
what did the churches do? When Stokely Carmichael, and
this was before he became Ture, we helped and encouraged
Stokely in his role with the student non-violent group,
so when he came to Baltimore, one of the many times he
came to Baltimore, and had arrived at a degree of fame,
our church was the church that opened its doors
so that Stokely could speak, and it was on a Saturday
night that he spoke, and our church was filled to
overflowing on that night when Stokely spoke.
I never will forget
that Stokely’s wife, I think it’s Makeba, anyhow, when
she came in, to study where Stokely was, and some others
who were sitting with me. Stokely had told her about me.
I’ve always treasured a spot on my hand where Makeba
kissed my hand and thanked me for being kind and
understanding about Stokely and his movement.
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What did the
churches do? The churches undergirded the students from
Morgan College with the
Civic Interest Group. And I might say, while I’m at
it, I hope that someone in this series will introduce
themselves to
Clarence Logan. Clarence Logan was the
president of the Civil Interest Group at Morgan, a group
of students. And a woman whose name is rarely mentioned,
Katherine Adams, was secretary and treasurer of the
Civic Interest Group, as well as, I was the adult
chairman of the Civic Interest Group. When the students
got put in jail out at Morgan, at Northwood, it was at
that time, I think the student body filled up the city
jails. Students. Students filled up the city jails. And
I think that we had done about ninety, we got about
ninety people out of jail.
photo left: Clarence
Logan, Chairman, Civic Action Group |
So when you begin
to ask, churches supported Mike King, Martin Luther
King, they supported the Urban League, the NAACP, and
provided meeting places for civic concerns, so that
churches all over the city of Baltimore, and across the
country, gave real, real support to the civil rights
movement. And you’ll have to remember that many of the
preachers in the movement, many of the people in the
movement were preachers. Martin Luther King, that
devilish boy
[James L.] Bevel, I can’t call the names. History
will bear me out, that many of the preachers were
involved—Fred
Shuttlesworth.
So that you want to
know what the preachers do comes to mind the fact that
the 16th Street
Baptist Church was bombed, the little girls were
killed. Martin Luther King was on his way, I think, to a
civil rights meeting at a Pentecostal church in Memphis
the night he was murdered.
So that the
churches have been an integral part, but the one thing
that I will say is most important to me, and we tend to
forget it, is that students pushed adults to do what was
done. And without an interested student body, one can
wonder what will happen. The future of this nation
belongs to the young college students, and remember, and
I hope I’m not being redundant, remember that Martin
Luther King really didn’t get the movement started until
the children were put out onto the streets in the march
and people from all over America saw the hoses being
turned on little girls and little boys and it would turn
them upside down, so that I guess this is a part of what
you’re pretty much asking.
Katie: Could
I ask you a little bit about your relationship with Dr.
King? I’m very, I’m very, interested in hearing about,
about you two.
Rev. Bascom:
I would put it this way. I met Mike King in Philadelphia
and was introduced to him by Dr. William H. Gray, who
was the pastor of Brighthood Baptist Church in
Philadelphia. His son,
Dr. William Herbert Gray III, was in the Congress,
and went from there to become the president of the Negro
College Fund.
And we met in a
social gathering. And I would say this very frankly,
that he was a quiet man, pretty much unassuming, he
only, it seems to me, came to himself fully, when he was
caught up in some tragic moment. So that Martin Luther
King was, in my opinion, very human, he was a
combination of saint and sinner. He was a brilliant man.
And of course, we had meetings here, where we shared
quiet times, we were together at Hampton ministers
conference one year. When he needed places to meet [in
Baltimore], I would get a call, asking to give support.
Although he’s now
deceased,
Samuel T. Daniels was the Grandmaster of the Masonic
Fraternity—it’s headquarters is now at the corner of
Lanvale and Eutaw. We would have meetings there. Or
around at churches everywhere. And I guess that’s about
as much as I would say about Martin Luther King. As I
said, he was a very quiet fellow, but a very brilliant
man. I would tell you this, the more I read
Taylor Branch, and others that have written about
him in a very critical fashion, yet a truthful fashion,
I guess very few of us recognized the greatness of the
man, and he grows larger than life as time goes on. . .
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Katie: I just had one other
question, I know you and your wife are on your way, but
I was interested in hearing about your community
activism after the disturbances, you know, your later
activism.
Rev. Bascom:
Well, it still continues. After the disturbances, things
began to quiet down, and we began to enter into
conversations. For example, I think that it can be said
that one of the reasons that Associated Black Charities
has become such a movement in this city, and you may not
know what
Associated Black Charities is, but I was one of the
founders of
Associated Black Charities and it has become the hub
around which much of the black money and the white money
comes together, and it is a multi-million dollar group
that is being supportive of various causes in the city.
Since that time, I
think that predominately, the
Circuit Court of Baltimore City is manned by blacks,
the police department is headed by a black, the
fire department is headed by blacks, by and large.
So that many things have changed. For example, the
University of Baltimore, to which you attend, was at one
time, was known primarily for it’s teaching of law. Now
it has grown, and this might make you feel good, and
might be good for the recording, that probably at one
time, most of the lawyers who were graduating from law
school here in Baltimore City came out of
University of Baltimore, so that it not be
downplayed as an institution. What more can I say?
Katie:
Anything else you want to!
Rev. Bascom:
I would say this—that I am available to talk again to
you. So that you can go back and see what you’re not
asking. Feel free to call me. You don’t have to get Dr.
Nix to call me. Or write. I see her in church on
Sundays, but if you want to talk to me again, I’m free,
just be sure that you catch me.
Dr. Mordecai
Johnson, let me put in a plug for my alma mater.
Dr. Mordecai Wyatt Johnson, was president of
Howard University—we’ll call it the premiere
predominately black institution in the country. He used
to talk for an hour and half. He was a preacher, and he
would say, after having preached for about an hour and
half, he would say, “Now, I have only given you the
introduction to what is on my mind.”
Katie: That’s wonderful!
Rev. Bascom:
So maybe I’ve only given you the introduction. For many
years, our church led in securing memberships for the
NAACP in the City of Baltimore.
Mrs.[Lillie Carroll] Jackson had a way of getting
churches, particularly, to participate in drives for the
NAACP. And, as a result of the churches in Baltimore
City at one time in the history of the NAACP, the local
Baltimore branch became the largest branch in the
country. Believe it or not.
And of course,
there was
Furman Templeton whose name is sometimes forgotten,
who was president of the Urban League, who is very
active. I became a friend of his. Then in the sixties, I
guess I became more intensely interested. Our church
began to attract rather influential politicals—one being
Henry Parks [who] was a member of the city council
and the owner of the Parks sausage company .He and I
became very warm friends. As a result, we spent many
times in this very room sitting down talking about
problems in the City. Eventually, I was named a member
of the Fire Commissioners of Baltimore City which gave
me not only my Civil Rights portfolio, but it gave me
the privilege of working to make it better for
Black Firefighters in the City of Baltimore.
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As a
case in point, very few Blacks were promoted
in the Fire Department. To get promotions in
those days required passing certain
examinations. This is not very well known,
but there was a time members of the Board
met with the Personnel Director of Baltimore
who admitted that he could make a test that
would pretty much exclude Blacks. That was
the time that we also came to the conclusion
that we could develop a chittlin test (c-h-i-t-t-l-i-n-g
test). I don’t think it has a ‘g’ on it ,
but chittlin. In which, we could develop a
test that would exclude Whites because we
have certain language patterns and certain
foibles in the black community that you are
just not aware of.
Finally, we came to the point when we could
really pass blacks. There was a fellow named
Clyde Williams I think his name was. Clyde
could pass any test that anybody prepared.
Finally he became Deputy Fire Chief. I think
Clyde is still alive. But Clyde just had the
faculty to take tests. Many people have
problems taking test, but Clyde sort of
broke the barrier. Blacks started an upward
mobility in the Fire Department.
[See
article on
Herman Williams, Jr.] |
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Interesting enough,
when I went into the Fire Department in 1968, there were
black beds and white beds. Black Firefighters did not
sleep in the beds the white Fire Fighter slept in. . . .
In 1968, I won’t claim any accolades for it, but as a
Commissioner of the Firefighter, was the fact that I was
able to break it up. So that, one of the things that I
am most proud of in my tenure I was able to break it up.
I must say that there were three members in the Board of
Fire Commissioners, Constantine Prevas, who still lives.
Why can’t I remember his name? You will have to check
that later.
Katie: Okay.
Dr. Bascom:
Of course, I was on the fire board. Two were White and I
was the Black one. Two were democrats. I was the
Republican. . . .Now, I was a Republican until I got
over it. . . . I could always count on Constantine
Prevas to vote with me. Any two Fire Commissioners could
vote together and veto any other vote. It was understood
that Constantine Prevas and I were going to vote
together on matters that were critical. There were times
when there were political issues that the mayor was
interested in.
Thomas D’Alesandro was the mayor then. Interesting
enough, Tommy D’Alesandro is the brother of Ms. Pelosi,
who is now the majority leader in the House of
Representatives.
He would say ,
“don’t ask Reverend Bascom, don’t say anything to Rev.
Bascom about this vote that you are going to have
because he is not going to vote my way.” The two of you
will just have to vote to get this through. So, that was
the only time when he knew that there were certain times
that I would not vote the way the mayor of the City of
Baltimore wanted it.
Interesting enough
Thomas D’Alesandro and I are still warm personal
friends. On occasion when he wants to talk to me about
things political, he will come here and sit and talk for
as long as we want to talk. . . .
Katie:
Another question that we have has to do with the same
thing. We were interested in the role community wide of
the African American clergy in Baltimore and the Civil
rights Movement
Dr. Bascom:
The African American clergy in Baltimore in terms of
real leadership during my time amounted to four men who
could be dependent on to give support to Civil Rights.
By that I mean many preachers participated. This is not
to do away with what they did. But these four men and
they were called around that time called around town the
“four horsemen.” They were Frank L. Williams, now
deceased, who is the pastor of Metropolitan Methodist
Church;
Vernon Dobson, who is the pastor of Union Baptist
Church; and Robert Newbold who is presently living in
Texas and Me.
We were called the
“four horsemen.” We were all of different denominations,
but we were very close friends and had the respect of
one another in a very warm and personal way. Robert
Newbold was the lead Republican. I will say this—as on
the side. During the time when we had the disturbances
and again, I reintegrate, that I do not use the term
riots with regard to the Civil Rights Movement and the
death, the fire burning at the time of Martin Luther
King, I call it disturbances and in that was a part of
it. I have a right to call, what I want to call it.
Katie: Yes you do.
Dr. Bascom:
It was during that period that I got my first real
insult, it wasn’t an insult, but this was the time the
Spiro Agnew was the Executive of Baltimore County.
Robert got us to go up and see Spiro Agnew.
This was also the
time when Mahoney, who was a prominent contractor here
in the city, was running for governorwhose platform was
every man’s home is his castle). Which meant that blacks
were not to integrate. This was just a slogan. It was
during this time that Robert Newbold got the four of us
to go up to see Mr. Agnew. Mr. Agnew said to me (I have
always thought of this as a very high honor). “You
know,” he said “every time I see you I am personally
taken aback. I am repulsed by you.” I told him. It would
be a problem. He would have to overcome that. So Mr.
Agnew and I were never friendly, but you will, also,
remember Mr. Agnew became the Vice President of the
United States and was disgraced by some of his
shenanigans here in the state of Maryland and in DC.
You will have to
lead me on because I will keep on going.
Katie: Not
at all. We are fascinated by all of it. Moving on to the
disturbances themselves we were interested in
understanding a little bit about each community.
Specifically, how your community specifically was
affected. How they reacted. How the community was
affected long-term.
Dr. Bascom:
Well, I would like to think that the disturbances came
into being because of a real ferment that was running
across the nation. You will have to remember that none
of this was done in isolation while we were in Baltimore
working out our own little problems. Every community was
in the process of doing the same thing. At the heart of
it was the
movement down in Montgomery, Alabama, movements
everywhere. There were those marching across Route 40
for accommodations at diners, There was no place in the
major areas here in Baltimore, where blacks could be
accommodated as I see blacks and whites intermingling
all over the place. It is amusing.
In 1954, I think it
was. I was on the grand jury of Baltimore City. There
were two of us on the grand jury at that time. It was
Dr. Draper, who was associated with Morgan at that time,
and I was appointed or selected to sit on the Grand
Jury. I am pretty sure that there were only two blacks
on there, but there was not one place downtown, where we
could sit and have lunch. Despite the fact that we were
indicted—all the criminals that came before the Circuit
Court of Baltimore City.
Katie: That is unbelievable
Dr. Bascom:
We could not sit anywhere. In fact, the main drug store
then was Read’s. In almost every Read’s drug store there
was a fountain, Blacks could go to the fountain, buy
something, and they would have to take it out. Maybe,
the most famous eatery in Baltimore (in northwest
Baltimore) was Nate’s and Leon’s. Nate’s and Leon’s was
at the corner of Linden and North. In fact, the building
is no longer there, but Nate’s was just a famous as the
place downtown where they sell the famous corned beef. I
got a chance to know Nate’s very well. Believe it or
not, you would go to Nate’s and you would have to stand
at the back of the counter and make your order and take
it out. Nate’s name was Hans ( H-A-H-N-S) . Anyway, we
became friends. Very often, before the disturbances
Nate’s would insist on sitting down talking to me. We
became friendly. . . . I’m veering from where I was.
There was no place
in the City of Baltimore where blacks could go in and be
accommodated. For example, my wife tells a story of her
little girl, Vivian, who is quite light skinned. Vivian
lived in the Pimlico area with her mother and her
father. Of course, Vivian didn’t know that she was
black. When she was that age you could hardly tell that
she was a black child. All the properties up there
around Garrison and Park Heights knew that Vivian was
black Vivian just was so fast and moving about and sit
up on the stool and they would serve. Vivian never knew
that she wasn’t supposed to sit there. But there was
agitation because of this all over the country. As a
result, before much of the disturbance begin, we began
to have marches and sit- ins. It was during that period
that I became vitally interested in the sit- in
movement.
Student non-violent
committee (SNCC), of course—the NAACP was less then
psychically aggressive during this period. You will have
to remember that their technique was a law game, not a
law game. I don’t mean it that way. They were interested
in making it illegal for discrimination to exist in
public accommodations, but it must be said that while
they did not do a lot of violent reaction. They gave
money and support and lawyers.
We have to remember
this man. I hope that one day ,those of you that are
really interested in the Civil Rights Movement will try
to find out something about
Tucker Dearing. Tucker Dearing was a lawyer “one of
the ablest civil rights lawyers that has ever been in
Baltimore.”
In spite of the
fact that there was Bob Watts, and others who were
interested in the legal aspects of discrimination.
Juanita Jackson Mitchell. It was this man. Tucker
Dearing who was a country bumpkin, to say the least,
talked with a real drawl, but was a brilliant lawyer.
Somewhere in the City of Baltimore somebody needs to
lift high that man’s name. In fact, while I am talking,
this is the first time this has ever occurred to me. I
am going to start agitating to find out more and more
about
Tucker Dearing.
Dr. Bascom:
Now, I think that if you’re interested, you will find
that Larry Gibson might know more about Tucker
Dearing and might have it more certified than anybody
else in the City of Baltimore.
Larry Gibson is a professor at University of
Maryland Law School. I think Larry lives in this
neighborhood somewhere.
It was during this
period that we could not go to places to eat. The
students of Morgan were in ferment. By some hook or
crook, I got involved with
Clarence Logan and Doug Sands
and other students who were out at Morgan. I shared in
the leadership of breaking down the barriers of
segregation and discrimination in Northwood. Northwood
was one of the top flight in town malls of a sort. It
was diagonally across from Morgan State University.
Students could not go to the White Coffee pot (which was
another one of the little corner eateries where you got
hamburgers, and coffee, anything else that you want).
Students at Morgan State College, at that time, could
not go across that street and sit down and eat in the
White Coffee Pot. They could not eat in Read’s drug
store. They could not eat in Hecht’s which was a
department store out there. It was a completely
segregated world. It was not until students became a
part of students insisted on the ferment. I can’t and
you’ll have to forgive me, but I can’t understand what
has happened to students. The student of 2006 are
completely different from the students of the 1950s and
sixties
Katie:
You’re right.
Dr. Bascom:
I cannot understand what has happened to students. I
tell you this, had it not been for students—this will
show you what I mean—had it not been for students much
of what has come about to bring equal treatment to
minority people in America would have never occurred—the
students at Greensboro, the students at Morgan. You name
it. You, also, have to remember, that had it not been
for the fact Jim Bevel broke through the traces and
fooled Mike King—Young and Jessie and all the rest of
them into getting students into the streets. In
Birmingham, things would not have been the way they are.
Plus the fact—I hate to mention this—plus the fact of
the four young black kids who were killed in the 16th
Street Baptist Church that Sunday morning.
So I guess if
anything I have to say about the movement, it must be
about the activity of students. There is a woman who
lies dead now. Her name is Catherine Adams, who was a
treasurer of “CIG” (Civic Interest Group). I was the
president of the group. She was the treasurer of the
group. Clarence Logan was the student leader of the
group, Leo Burrows, and these names just come up. I am
remembering them for a long time.
As I said, if you
really want to get an insight into the student movement
here at Morgan, you must meet, and know and talk to
Clarence Logan. His phone number is registered in the
telephone book it is 947-3777, at any rate, it is very
close to that.
Clarence Logan must be remembered as a
student very active in the affairs of the Civil Rights
Movements here in Baltimore City. . . .
Katie: Yea,
we’ve got about a half an hour. I am goanna ask you one
more question, and then I am goanna switch. Karrie is
going to ask you some questions. We were also
wondering, how your family was directly affected by the
disturbances? How if at all did you feel—your family’s
reaction was it any different from other African
American families in the community?
Dr. Bascom:
Well, how shall I put it? Other than to say, that, my
family might have suffered because of my absence from
around them a lot, because I woke up and went to bed
civil righting. I was going to Cambridge to Annapolis to
Washington. You name it, in this real ferment that was
going on. I’m not saying this boastfully, but it was
during this period that my children, and, I guess, I
must be responsible for, but all of my children, this
period, started going to private schools. The two boys
went to Boys Latin. My two daughters went to the Park
School.
I don’t know if whether it was the
best thing or not. I’m not too sure that many of us who
did not go to any integrated school are any poorer
because of segregation or not. I will say this that,
some of the best teachers in the city of Baltimore were
Black teachers, who were denied the privilege of going
to white schools of higher education or not. Most of the
teachers, the older teachers were restricted to going to
local colleges—Morgan and Coppin for undergraduate work.
It was during this period that—and I don’t know if you
ever heard of this—black teachers and white teachers
were placed on separate list for appointment for
schools. So that my wife who was first in her class at
Coppin could not enjoy being on the list with white
teachers, even though they had passed the same
examination. . . .
November 18, 2006
2101 Park Ave.
Baltimore, MD
21217
Katie: If you wouldn’t mind,
give us some details such as: where you were born,
raised, where you attended school. Things like that.
Dr. Bascom:
I was born in Pensacola, Florida, March [the] 14th,
1925, which makes me 81 years old. I, of course, went to
school in Pensacola for the greater portion of my twelve
years. I graduated from Washington High School in
Pensacola Florida and then went to
Florida Memorial
College in St. Augustine. I’m, also, a graduate of
Howard University Divinity School which is located in
Washington. I’ve done some study at
Garrett Biblical
Institute in Evanston Illinois, as well as, a little
work at
Wesley Theological Seminary in Washington. I
guess that is my academic portfolio.
I have, of course,
been honored by Florida Memorial College with a Doctor
of Divinity ,which is honorary, and I have been granted
an honorary degree from Morgan State University where I
served for two or three years as
Director of the Morgan
Christian Center. I guess that is about as much as I can
tell you. . . .
Well, after finishing college, I went on to
become the pastor of the First Baptist Church in St.
Augustine and for a brief while became president of the
National Association for the Advancement of Colored
People, the local branch. It was there that I became
really active because I had come out of a college that
was quite active in the city. As a result after becoming
pastor of the First Baptist I recognized some things
that things that were going on in St. Augustine in St.
Johns County. St. Augustine, as you probably know, is
the oldest city in the United States; it still has a
slave market at the heart of the city.
And after becoming
president and pastor of the church and president of the
NAACP we went to see Mrs. Else I can’t remember her
first name but Mrs. Else was the superintendent,
supervisor of elections in St. Augustine and we were
able to persuade her to bring the election books or the
registration books to First Baptist Church in order to
enable more colored people to register and vote.
Across the street
from me was a woman who belonged to our church and was a
funeral director who occasionally got calls from the
Sheriff of St. Johns County whose name was Sheppard he
on occasion would call up Lois and say “Lois, there is a
dead ‘nigger’ down in the potato field in Hastings and I
want you go down to pick up the body and bury it don’t
worry about a death certificate just bury it. Of course
she has no choice, if she wanted to live in St.
Augustine’s peacefully. I guess this was one of the
reasons that spurred me on the get colored people
registered we were called colored people in those days.
So, that we have
evolved from colored to Negro, to blacks, to
African-Americans. So, I don’t quite know, what we are
now in the year 2006. I guess you might say. I am a part
of the hormone of God which makes me how I am.
At any rate, as a
result of the voting there were literally hundreds of
people added to the rolls in St. Augustine and you will
remember that maybe fifteen to twenty years later Martin
Luther King had his encounter in St. Augustine. Well I
guess that excited me to become a part of the Civil
Rights Movement as I eventually did.
Source:
Archives
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In 1946, Bascom
earned his B.S. degree in English from Florida Memorial
College. He also served as pastor of Shiloh Baptist and
First Baptist Church, both in Pensacola. In 1948, he
earned his bachelor's of divinity degree from Howard
University. The following year, Bascom began his 46-year
tenure at Douglas Memorial Community Church in
Baltimore, Maryland.
While at Douglas, Bascom demonstrated his strong
leadership skills in the pulpit as well as the
community. In 1962, he created "Camp Farthest Out," an
overnight summer camp for underprivileged children. In
1963, Bascom participated in the Gwen Oak Park
Demonstration, a protest that led to the desegregation
of Baltimore's amusement parks. Bascom was appointed
Baltimore's first African American Fire Commissioner in
1968, and under his leadership and direction calm was
restored to the city after the disturbances following
Martin Luther King's assassination. In 1970, he received
an honorary doctorate of divinity from his alma mater,
Florida Memorial College.
Bascom also founded the Association of Black Charities,
an umbrella organization of the United Way. Bascom's
commitment to the community includes the development of
Douglas Village, a 49-unit apartment complex, The
Douglas Memorial Federal Credit Union and a
"Meals-on-Wheels" program for the sick and elderly.
After his retirement from Douglas Memorial in 1995,
Bascom served as the interim Director of Morgan
University's Christian Center. He has received numerous
awards for his civic and community leadership. He is a
member of the Interdenominational Ministerial Alliance,
the National Council of Community Churches and the
Baltimore Hospitals Commission Board.—TheHistoryMakers
* *
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A
Christian Goon Squad in Black Baltimore
Clarence Logan and the Northwood Movement
/
Chester Wickwire Desegregating Gwynn Oak Amusement Park
Roy Wilkins and Spiro Agnew in
Annapolis /
Agnew Speaks to Black
Baltimore Leaders 1968
* *
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Walter Hall Lively
Forty Years of Determined Struggle
Putting
Baltimore's People First
Dominance of Johns Hopkins
A Brief Economic History of Modern Baltimore
Understanding the Monumental City: A
Bibliographic Essay on Baltimore History (Richard
J. Cox)
* *
* * *
The End of Black Rage? Class and Delusion in
Black America (Jared Ball)
The Black Generation Gap (Ellis Cose)
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Black
Power, A Critique of the System
/
Black
Power / What We Want
Amite
County Beginning
Kish Mir Tuchas
A
Tribute to Kwame Toure/Stokely Carmichael
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The End of Anger
A New Generation's Take on Race and Rage
By Ellis Cose
From a venerated and bestselling voice
on American life comes a contemporary
look at the decline of black rage; the
demise of white guilt; and the
intergenerational shifts in how blacks
and whites view, and interact with, each
other. In the heady aftermath of
President Obama's election, conventional
wisdom suggested that the bitter, angry,
and destructive elements of
discrimination were ebbing at last and
America was becoming a postracial
nation. . . . Weaving material from
myriad interviews as well as two large
and ambitious surveys that he
conducted—one of black Harvard MBAs and
the other of graduates of A Better
Chance, a program offering elite
educational opportunities to thousands
of young people of color since 1963—Cose
offers an invaluable portrait of
contemporary America that attempts to
make sense of what a people do when the
dream, for some, is finally within reach
as one historical era ends and another
begins.—Ecco, 2011
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Obama and
Black Americans: the Paradox of Hope—By Gary
Younge—But for all the ways black America has felt
better about itself and looked better to others, it
has not actually fared better. In fact, it has been
doing worse. The economic gap between black and
white has grown since Obama took power. Under his
tenure black unemployment, poverty and foreclosures
are at their highest levels for at least a decade.
Millions of
black kids may well aspire to the presidency now
that a black man is in the White House. But such a
trajectory is less likely for them now than it was
under Bush. Herein lies what is at best a paradox
and at worst a contradiction within Obama’s core
base of support. The very group most likely to
support him—black Americans—is the same group that
is doing worse under him.— TheNation
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Here lies Jim Crow: Civil rights in Maryland
By C. Fraser Smith
Though he lived throughout much of the South—and even worked his way into parts of the North for a time—Jim Crow was conceived and buried in Maryland. From Chief Justice Roger Brooke Taney's infamous decision in the Dred Scott case to Thurgood Marshall's eloquent and effective work on Brown v. Board of Education, the battle for black equality is very much the story of Free State women and men. Here, Baltimore Sun columnist C. Fraser Smith recounts that tale through the stories, words, and deeds of famous, infamous, and little-known Marylanders. He traces the roots of Jim Crow laws from Dred Scott to Plessy v. Ferguson and describes the parallel and opposite early efforts of those who struggled to establish freedom and basic rights for African Americans.
Following the historical trail of evidence, Smith relates latter-day examples of Maryland residents who trod those same steps, from the thrice-failed attempt to deny black people the vote in the early twentieth century to nascent demonstrations for open access to lunch counters, movie theaters, stores, golf courses, and other public and private institutions—struggles that occurred decades before the now-celebrated historical figures strode onto the national civil rights scene. Smith's lively account includes the grand themes and the state's major players in the movement—Frederick Douglass, Harriett Tubman, Thurgood Marshall, and Lillie May Jackson, among others.—and also tells the story of the struggle via several of Maryland's important but relatively unknown men and women—such as Gloria Richardson, John Prentiss Poe, William L. "Little Willie" Adams, and Walter Sondheim—who prepared Jim Crow's grave and waited for the nation to deliver the body.—Johns Hopkins University Press, 2008 |
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posted 2 June 2011
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