By Bob Gaydos
One of the perks of being a journalist is the possibility of encountering history anytime you're on the job. The recent White House confusion over whether or not to recognize Black History Month (the defense secretary says no, Trump says yes) prompted me to look back at my 40-plus years with daily newspapers to see if I had had the good fortune to personally bump into any of it.
I had. Several times.
As a young reporter covering government and politics for The Sun-Bulletin in Binghamton, N.Y., in the late 1960's early '70's, I had the pleasure of seeing and hearing a young crusader for civil rights argue his case on the steps of the Brooke County courthouse. Julian Bond was eloquent and forceful as ever.
The Southern Poverty Law Center, headquartered in Montgomery, Ala., was founded in 1971 with Bond as its first president. Its purpose, as its web site declares: "To ensure that the promise of the Civil Rights movement became a reality for everyone." It is still waging that battle.
I also was fortunate enough to be assigned to cover one of the many civil rights marches in Washington, D.C, at the time, riding on one of the buses from Binghamton.
My next encounter with Black History was brief and totally unexpected and one for which I am forever grateful. Still in Binghamton, I was filling in as a sports writer covering some kind of special event whose details escape me. Except for one.
Half listening to a speech from the podium, my eyes wandered around the crowd and suddenly stopped on a figure leaning casually against a sidewall. Couldn't be. But "
Another thing about working as a journalist -- you learn to not worry about asking "embarrassing" questions. In this case, no need to be embarrassed. I was right.
I got up, walked right over, stuck out my hand and said, "A privilege to meet you, Mr. Robinson."
"Thank you. Nice to meet you." Soft-spoken as always.
Then I went back to my seat, having shook the hand of Jackie Robinson, the man who broke the color barrier in Major League Baseball. He was signed by Branch Rickey and started at first base for the Brooklyn Dodgers on April 15, 1947, ending racial segregation in professional baseball, which had relegated black players to the Negro leagues since the 1880s.
Robinson enjoyed a sometimes tumultuous but successful 10-year Hall of Fame career with the Dodgers, whom I hated as a lifelong Yankees fan. To honor his memory, on April 15 each year, all players in the major leagues wear Robinson's number 42, which has been retired for all of baseball.
My next brush with Black History came more than a decade later, in Charleston, S.C., where I was attending a conference of editorial writers.
Jesse Jackson was one of the speakers. The outspoken minister/politician began his seven-decades long career as a civil rights leader as a protege of Martin Luther King Jr., eventually seeking the Democratic Party presidential nomination twice and serving seven years as the District of Columbia's shadow senator in Congress. He was always a force to be reckoned with.
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