chapter 9 Forever to Thee

Page 114 →My admission to USC was not a smooth process. Although I applied in early spring 1964 and presumed that my final first-year transcript from Fisk was supplied in early June, by late July I still had not heard anything from the admissions office. Concerned about the delay, I wrote to the admissions office and made a veiled threat that if I didn’t receive a decision soon, I would take further action. Within a couple of weeks, I received an acceptance letter. I’d like to think that the delay was caused by an inefficient admissions office, but I couldn’t be sure. I had to think the worst because classes would be starting in early September, and I needed time to engage a lawyer, if necessary.

I’m not sure what I was expecting as I enrolled at USC in the fall of 1964. It had been desegregated one year earlier by two Black undergraduates, Henrie Monteith and Robert “Bob” Anderson, and one Black graduate student, James Solomon. Henrie and Bob had transferred from other colleges. Having experienced success at other colleges was important as they faced the new desegregated environment. They weren’t sure whether their new professors would evaluate them fairly. That eventuality would likely have rattled them psychologically had they not already known that they could succeed academically. I carried the same mindset when I entered USC as a sophomore.

Henrie lived in a dormitory on campus during her first semester. Bob spent his entire three years living at Maxcy College, a dormitory Page 115 →named after the university’s first president, Reverend Johnathan Maxcy, a Baptist theologian who was an alumnus of Brown University and later its second president. He held an honorary degree from Harvard University. His imposing monument adorns the Horseshoe.

Transferring from Clark College (now Clark Atlanta University), a Methodist historically Black college in Atlanta, Georgia, Bob was assigned to Maxcy College because the dormitory had a few rooms with private bathrooms. The university did not want to risk an incident by having Bob share an interracial bathroom. Bob endured repeated incidents of harassment by a few white students who lived in the dorm. Late at night, they would knock on his door and flee before it could be answered or bounce basketballs on the street outside his room so he could not study or sleep. This harassment was so unbearable that Bob often fled the campus for some peace and quiet.

The year I arrived, four Black male students were housed at Maxcy College on the second and third floors, atop each other. Bob Anderson from Greenville and William “Bill” Washington from Charleston, a transfer student from South Carolina State College, roomed on the second floor. Risher Cross, a freshman, from Charleston and I roomed on the third floor. We became a closely knit group and Bob created nicknames for us: Risher was Forty, implying it would take him forty years to graduate from USC; Bill was Scholar, a reference to his highfalutin language.

Unfortunately, Bill withdrew from USC at the end of the academic year. I’m not sure of the reason, and he never reenrolled. Another Black student, who lived off campus, withdraw for academic reasons. However, he did return a few years later to complete his coursework. During the early days of desegregation, no academic support (and only meager psychological support) was provided to Black students who might need it. Black students had to negotiate the foreign environment on their own, except for the support they received from fellow Black students.

Page 116 →During my second year, I roomed with Bob. He grew up in segregated Greenville at a time when Black people had to scrap for educational opportunities. At the age of sixteen while a student at Sterling High School, Bob could not abide racial inequalities and was arrested for participating in civil rights sit-ins at the segregated Greenville Public Library and F. W. Woolworth five-and-dime store lunch counter. His family lived near Jesse Jackson and knew him well. Jackson became a key leader in the Southern Christian Leadership Conference under Reverend Martin Luther King Jr. and had grown up in Greenville. Jackson encouraged Bob and his sister, Carmen Anderson, to participate in the sit-in protest at the Greenville Public Library. They sat and read books and magazines until they were arrested.¹ While he was a student at Clark College, Bob was jailed for participating in civil rights protest activities organized by Reverend Martin Luther King Jr.

He talked about his friend from Sterling High School, Franklin “Bo” Miller, who worked on a garbage truck to finance his way through Fisk University. Bow was a resourceful person who read Dante while picking up garbage. I met him when I was at Fisk. He played football and impressed me as a person who would leave a mark on society.

Bob’s academic concentration was political science, as was mine, and he was helpful to me in selecting courses. He provided me with the skinny on certain professors. Bob was widely read, especially in Black history and contemporary literature. He read all of James Baldwin’s works and often made references to The Fire Next Time. He was wont to quote passages from acclaimed literary works: Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman (“old Willie is out there in the blue with a smile and a shoeshine . . .”) and Shakespeare’s As You Like It (“Men have died from time to time, and worms have eaten them, but not for love”). Bob was well-respected by white students because of his quick wit and towering vocabulary. He was a keen debater on the Page 117 →university’s debate team. I heard him engage Marty, a white student, over the debate between James Baldwin and William F. Buckley at the University of Cambridge Union in 1965. The motion debated was: “The American dream is at the expense of the American Negro.” Baldwin won the debate against Buckley as, it seemed to me, Bob did against Marty.

Bob loved music. He was a student of jazz and loved listening to trumpeters Miles Davis and Freddie Hubbard. Bob played the trumpet and sat in on improvised jazz jam sessions at a nightclub located near Allen and Benedict Colleges, two historically Black colleges in Columbia. He also loved the poetry of folk music. We would often listen to, and discuss the meaning of, Bob Dylan’s poignant antiwar ballad, “With God on Our Side.”

Although Bob had a first-class mind, I sensed that he had little direction. He was very introspective and didn’t share his thoughts readily. When Bob enrolled at USC, his sister, Carmen, was unaware of his plans and found out about his enrollment through a news program on a TV station that posted his picture. During his senior year, he struggled with what life after USC would look like. He once talked about studying law, but that never materialized. I lost contact with him after he graduated, and years later, I was surprised to hear that he had been drafted to serve in the Vietnam conflict. After that experience, he worked as a social worker in New York City, and upon retirement worked at the Veterans Administration until his death. Upon reflection, I was not surprised to hear about his career choice. He had a vulnerable side that propelled him to help others who lived in the shadows and lacked a voice. He was so committed to his work that he declined to attend a family reunion after the World Trade Towers were hit because he believed victims of that tragedy needed his help.

Life in Maxcy College was pleasant overall, although the predictable pranks of white students knocking on our doors continued. We Page 118 →experienced no violence while living there. The dormitory had an ideal location, just off the Horseshoe. It was very convenient for me to attend classes in scattered academic buildings.

My primary courses were in political science, English, history, international studies, and naval science. I studied incessantly, dividing my study time between my dorm room and the Thomas Cooper Library. My diligence paid off with professor recognition in my American history, French, and economics classes. Professor George Rodgers read my final American history exam answer to the entire class as a model of good analysis and writing. My French teacher praised my facility for pronouncing the French language with the proper accent, clarity, and expression. My economics professor encouraged me to pursue the field further with advance course work. Professor Ford, who taught honors American literature, enhanced my worldview of the classics, and I continue to reread my two favorites, Herman Melville’s Moby-Dick, and Ernest Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises.

Enrolling in the Naval ROTC program satisfied my physical education curriculum requirement. But the attraction was more than that. I aspired to become a naval officer. I was the only African American enrolled in the program and was treated very respectfully. I played bass drum in the Naval ROTC Drum and Bugle Corps. I had loads of fun parading around campus on drill day and marching in parades in Columbia. I would have completed the ROTC training and accepted a commission as an ensign but Captain Jeffery, the head of the Naval Science program, informed me the Navy would not allow me to study law after college. The military buildup in Vietnam was beginning, and the Navy needed officers to captain boats.

During my three years of matriculation, USC was not an oppressive environment, but it was not inclusive, either. While I was there, Black students were not integrated into campus life. We tried to maintain a modicum of camaraderie by eating lunch and dinner together at the Russell House dining room. I joined the staff of The Page 119 →Gamecock, the student newspaper, during my first year at USC. However, I left at the end of the first semester because I could not abide the politics of the editor, who took it upon herself to endorse Barry Goldwater in the 1964 presidential election. Another Black student played on the USC marching band for a brief period before withdrawing from the university. Black students were not invited to belong to fraternities and sororities. No Black students played any varsity sports. We did not attend many football or basketball games for fear we might encounter violence. However, I did make an exception by attending the 1965 homecoming dance that featured the performance of Diana Ross and the Supremes.

To rectify this social void, Theodore (Ted) Ledeen, administrative assistant to the dean of students, and his wife, Libby, extended themselves to make Black students feel welcomed and included. They invited us to their home for dinner and planned social events for us. They often sponsored trips to Penn Center, an African American cultural and educational center located on St. Helena Island near Beaufort, South Carolina. Their son, Larry, rode a Harley Davidson and played folk music on a twelve-string guitar. Larry hosted many folk jam sessions at his apartment and invited us to hang out. One of our favorite songs was “Guantanamera.” Upon graduation from USC, Ted and Libby gave me a copy of Fyodor Dostoevsky’s The Grand Inquisitor.

Page 120 →The social environment on campus improved in my senior year (my third year at USC) when Black students were integrated into regular dorm life with community baths. My roommate, Zack Clarkson, from the Columbia area, and I lived at the Honeycombs and did not experience any problems while living in that integrated dorm environment. My senior year was enhanced with the purchase of a blue, bubble-top MGA. The MG gave me the freedom to get away, which I did often, to have dinner at the College Inn Tourist Home, a Green Book-designated soul-food restaurant on Harden Street near Allen and Benedict Colleges.

During my senior year, an interracial group of like-minded students, led by Paul Bloom, a fellow political science major from Virginia, discussed the feasibility of creating an organization that would raise the consciousness of students who desired dialog on progressive social issues. That discussion led to the creation of AWARE. Our inaugural event was held on campus at Columbia Hall on February 9, 1967, and featured Julian Bond as the keynote speaker. In 1965, he had been elected to the Georgia House of Representatives, but the House refused to seat him because he helped co-found the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee and opposed the US involvement in Vietnam. The US Supreme Court ultimately compelled the legislature to seat Mr. Bond, holding that he had been denied his constitutional right of freedom of speech.²

As the coordinating secretary of AWARE, I extended an invitation to Mr. Bond and had the privilege of introducing him at the public event. His flight to Columbia from Atlanta was delayed because of a snowstorm that evening. The event drew 200 people, mostly students and friends, several faculty members, and a few newsmen. The theme of his speech was the future of the Negro in America. However, during the question-and-answer segment, all questions dealt with his position on opposition to the war in Vietnam and Black Power, an emerging Black empowerment movement led by Stokely Carmichael. On Vietnam, he forcefully defended his Page 121 →position that the war was “illegal, immoral and unjust.” On Black Power, he skillfully avoided the trap of those who accused him of advocating violence by stating that “Black Power is people having power—political and perhaps even economic power.” Although the event was approved by the university, it nevertheless drew controversy. The Grand Dragon of the state Ku Klux Klan threatened to picket the event, although that never materialized. The Columbia Police Department provided tight security at the event, checking the identification cards of attendees at the door.³ The event was enhanced by a reception afterwards graciously hosted by Professor Bradley, a faculty member in the English Department, at his home.

I studied political science because I was advised that the courses provided a good preparation for the study of law. I was fortunate that the Political Science Department had some of the brightest professors at USC. The erudite Professor Jerome Wiesner stimulated my interest in political philosophy and theory. His pedagogy was efficient. He entered the classroom, looked around in his characteristic Page 122 →shy manner to see who was there, and immediately began to lecture from well-thought-through notes. The lectures were nonstop for the entire hour, only pausing to transition from one topic to another.

The unflappable and debonair Professor Donald Fowler grounded me in the practicalities of the political process. In fall 1966, Professor Fowler hosted a seminar in Washington, DC, on the workings of the federal government. Through the seminar, I met Senator Teddy Kennedy. In his office, Senator Kennedy shared personal stories about pictures taken with his brothers, President Kennedy and Senator Robert “Bobby” Kennedy. Inscribed on a picture of Teddy and Bobby together were Bobby’s words: “From one coattail rider to another.” The reference denotes that both Teddy and Bobby got elected because of President Kennedy’s popularity. Professor Fowler and I shared a hotel room together because he did not want to create friction by forcing a white student to room with a Black person. Professor Fowler strongly encouraged me to attend Harvard Law School and remained a proponent of my professional growth over the years.

Years later, Professor Fowler was picked by President Bill Clinton to co-chair (along with Senator Christopher Dodd of Connecticut) the Democratic National Committee. Under their stewardship from 1995 to 1997, they expanded the reach of the party, especially enhancing voter registration of African Americans. Professor Fowler and I have kept up with each other over the years and met at the Monocle Restaurant for breakfast during President Obama’s first inauguration. The Monocle, a favorite of Members of Congress, is the closest restaurant to the US Capitol building. Don Fowler passed away on December 17, 2020.

The courtly Professor Glenn Abernathy, the gentleman scholar, set the standard of civility that I would aspire to emulate throughout my professional life. One of Professor Abernathy’s heroes was Professor Paul Freund of the Harvard Law School faculty. He referenced Professor Freund frequently in his Constitutional Law class. I got to know Professor Freund while at Harvard. He was the advisor Page 123 →to my moot court club, the Cardozo Club. Professors Abernathy and Freund were both quiet and reserved constitutional scholars dedicated to promoting decency in our society. After I graduated from Harvard Law School, Professor Freund was a reference for my Massachusetts bar admission. He advised me to “return to my hinterland”—advice I eventually followed. Professor Abernathy helped to make that a reality. He championed my successful appointment to the law faculty at USC and remained one of my staunchest supporters.

During my entire academic experience at USC, I was fortunate to have had fair-minded professors who evaluated my work without prejudice. Accordingly, Harvard was able to get an accurate and true depiction of my academic ability. Unfortunately, other Black students did not have a similar experience.

Interracial Dating

Throughout my life, I have been attracted to people based on their character and decency. A person’s skin color, nationality, religion, or Page 124 →other characteristics never mattered to me. Although I grew up in a segregated society where Black people were routinely demeaned, I never harbored any hatred toward white people. Fortunately, I have met far more decent white people than those who were prejudiced and bigoted.

There were times during my undergraduate experience when racism raised its ugly head. One night, I decided to frequent a restaurant on Sumter Street around the corner from Maxcy College to get some food after a long session of studying. I had gone to that restaurant during the day without incident, so I figured it was a safe venue. I finished eating and paid the cashier. Upon leaving the restaurant, I noticed that three hostile-looking white individuals followed me out of the door. Anticipating that I would be accosted before I got back to Maxcy College, I immediately turned around and reentered the restaurant. I sat at the counter and waited about a half hour for the three men to leave the premises. The manager of the restaurant knew exactly what was happening and allowed me to sit there without ordering to ensure my safety. I learned a lesson from that incident. Never go to an off-campus white-owned restaurant alone at night.

Given my liberal views on race, I was destined to have issues with the South’s cardinal rule against racial mixing. I knew that dating a white woman while being enrolled at USC would be frowned upon and could even be dangerous. Nevertheless, I followed my heart rather than my head.

Robin was a very intelligent and attractive woman. She spoke with a mild British accent, and I believe she had an English lineage. Before enrolling at USC, she had spent time studying theatre and acting. We shared many of the same ideas and ideals. We believed in racial equality and social justice and were founding members of AWARE, a student group that exposed students to diverse viewpoints. Robin had every reason not to rock the boat, because her father was a professor in the English Department at Davis College. Page 125 →Nevertheless, we carried on a discrete relationship and fortunately did not experience any serious problems.

My relationship with Robin began with the passion of a hot fire. I met her one fall day in 1966 while walking across the Horseshoe. She was with some of my friends, so I felt she shared their worldview of things. She looked stunning that day and I wanted to spend time with her. After a few chance encounters, we began secretly meeting at her apartment late at night to avoid suspicion. We had the perfect opportunity to spend time openly with one another at a weekend civil rights retreat we were invited to attend at Penn Center in Frogmore, South Carolina.

Penn Center was founded in 1862 by Quaker missionaries from Pennsylvania and named in honor of William Penn. The civil rights program that weekend included a speech by Stokely Carmichael, leader of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee, who later founded the Black Power movement. The other speaker was Charles Morgan Jr., a civil rights attorney from Alabama. He helped establish the legal principle of “one man, one vote” and represented Julian Bond and Muhammad Ali before the US Supreme Court. I vividly recall his humorous response when asked how he deals with hostile idiotic questions. His response was “When you are asked a damn-fool question, you get a damn-fool answer.” On our way back to the campus, we topped off the weekend with a side trip to the quaint Catfish Row in Charleston’s historic district, where we had an invitation to attend a party.

Robin and I spent a memorable weekend at Penn Center, engaging in intellectual banter with the group and spending quiet moments along the intercoastal waterway. We were consumed by our love for one another. The passion of the relationship cooled the closer we got to graduation. Since I had been accepted to Harvard Law School, I could not reconcile our relationship with my new pursuit. It was a hard decision to break up with Robin.

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