I write this to be honest and not to try and make it comfortable for everyone. This is how I view the events that impacted my life.
There I was, 14 and so full of misgivings, anger, thoughts of running away, from the move coming. My Mother had married Jim, a worker at an automotive plant in Flint, MI. The trouble was, we currently lived in Swartz Creek, MI. A small farming and rural town that was also filled with automotive workers who commuted to work and home. Swartz Creek was a great place to live and run free with no parent oversight, since Mom also worked in Flint about 20 miles away. Mom was an absolutely great Mother and her sons would never do anything to make her unhappy. But she had to work bad hours to feed us and that meant you were unsupervised. Unfortunately, Mom also had lousy tastes in men and always ended up paying the price through abuse.
Swartz Creek was also a completely white community but with our one Asian kid as the ethnic diversity. But Gordy’s folks also had money. By this time I was the last son at home. Added into this equation was Jim’s drastic dislike of a smart ass teenager who did as he pleased and felt no obligation to respect him simply because he was there. All true, as I actually disliked him from the first meeting and figured life was hard but was about to get harder for me. We never did connect and ended up in actual fist fights when he would want to smack my Mother around. Which was his normal consumption of a bottle or more of Scotch. He eventually became convinced I would kill him and threw half of my shotgun away to prevent that. Not sure I would have done that as I have never felt inclined towards the thoughts of just killing someone. But he was convinced and that’s all that mattered to him.
This was in the early 60’s, we were unsupervised so my friends and I would walk or Hitch a ride into town, 3 miles away and often would just hitch rides as far away as 80 miles on weekends just to do it since we all were basically un-supervised and also very broke and just killing time. That’s what made us a very tight group and I stayed friends with two of them through their lives. We were pretty wild kids, but not cruel or destructive, just simply uncontrolled smart ass teenagers running free. Some of the kids were normal and a few really talented and made lots of money later in life from music. Grand Funk Railroad and one went to Hollywood andplayed guitar in the band for Happy Days and Lavern and Shirley. Others died in drug deals or were killed in Vietnam. One was in the Marines and had sent money home for a new hot rod. He was killed by a sniper the day before he was to come home. Another came back so mentally messed up he could not function. We were suburban America and what brought all of us together was a lack of supervision and our folks were all just at or below the poverty line. Trust me, well to do families didn’t like us any better than others they talked about. A very diverse group of kids, but also, all white.
Then the dreaded move based on a bad decision. Jim who could easily go through a bottle of Scotch a night, being the alcoholic he was, had only had half the month’s rent. So to get what was needed, he went to the track to bet it all. Well of course, even I knew at 14 we were in trouble. We were evicted the next month. Since Jim hated Swartz Creek, too far to drive and less time to drink, he decided we needed to live in Flint as that’s where they worked. My thoughts or wishes were never asked. Trouble was, at least to me, was we could only afford a place that was two blocks from the Black neighborhood. All I knew about the Black Community is what I had heard from adults. We were only about five blocks from North Saginaw Street which was not an area white people trended after dark in Flint. Being broke and needing money since Mom and Jim had none, but enough for Jim’s Scotch, I got a work permit and a job at a dairy processing plant on North Saginaw Street. I worked after school until about 9 at night and walked home past my Middle School and one of the worst High Schools, Central, in the city. It was not unusual to get rocks and insults thrown at me walking home from the Black kids hanging out; but you ignored it and hoped not to get hit. You dared not challenge a group when alone. It was just pretend you didn’t hear the insults or the rocks hitting near you.
Plus, in my Middle School, I was the minority. You learned to tread easily and watch your back. In Swartz Creek my buddies and I were the ones you didn’t cross. We were the tough guys and carried ourselves as such. What a polar opposite for me at Emerson Junior High. Now I could have been really resentful at being surrounded by Black kids, especially since the majority of my family had very little good to say about Black people and the language was not very nice, again in the early to late sixties. But not my Mom. She was never one to bad mouth other folks, it was her family, my father, and even my friend’s families. It was not uncommon to listen to my Father who I was forced to visit once a month, go on a rant about the low life, stealing, uneducated minorities who lived in the area and were just no good. Some of the names made me feel really sad someone could say that about folks. Although Dad had enough money to live out from the city, but that didn’t change his opinion of the Black community. I always wondered why he had so much to say about others, while he was no saint and ignored his responsibilities as the father of four sons. I felt the same about others talking, especially since many were alcoholics and no real prize. I could not figure it out, but then I was different in my family. I actually told my Mom at 13, I was making a career of the military and at 14 said I would marry an Asian girl if I ever did get married. A girl my Dad said not to marry. Both happened. I always knew I had to get out of such a hate filled town and way of life so many people seemed to be living. I just knew the cycle needed to be broken for me as it was with my brothers who also rejected the dislike of others.
But a funny thing happened to me along that road to Flint and my introduction to the Black community. It wasn’t uncommon in gym class to grab a basketball and some kids demand you turn it over, since I was alone and knew no one and stayed alone. Of course you couldn’t just do it, then you were a punk to be singled out all of the time. So many times it came real close to throwing fists, and knowing an ass whipping was coming. Then some Black kids I did not even know would stand up for me when I was confronted by different groups. Not sure why, but they would get in front of me and tell the others to back the “Hell Up” as I had done nothing to anyone. Those types of experiences made me appreciate the kindness and willingness to protect someone the kids had no reason to help. The same types of experiences happened in classes over where one would sit. One black girl asked me to keep my Algebra Test answers uncovered as she did not have time to study the night before. Nice girl and had always been nice to me, but I was concerned about the cheating. She had told others that the desk was mine and to move on. Now I didn’t have any issue confronting other white kids who might want to screw with me, but I knew that taking on the Black groups was not a wise move. So just before class started a kid tried to kiss her and she stood up and knocked him to the ground while voicing what she really thought about him. I left my answers uncovered and needless to say I stayed on her good side the rest of the year. It truly was a pretty violent Middle School and many more similar experiences happened.
Later in High School when I was robbed at work, going through the mug shots, many faces popped out at me. Kids who had confronted me and even those who stood up for me at Emerson where in the mug shot book at such a young age. Some of the guys had gotten into real violent trouble. That’s when I really started to realize, your environment can dictate what you end up as. Not always, but way too often.
The same type of issues happened in High School after Middle School. Now Northwestern High School was a predominate player in the riots of 68-69 in Flint and spreading through Detroit. So there was a lot of racial tension going on every day. It was a have and have not school and mostly divided along racial lines. Lots of fights and anger floating through the halls most any day. I had more money by then as I worked full time after school to save for a car. A car represented freedom in the 60’s and was a status symbol for a person, especially a guy. Those of us who had cars were taking automotive courses and were in the school garage during the riots and had weapons ready to fight if needed, as we had been warned, they, the rioters were coming for us white boys. Yet standing next to us were the Black Students in the class who had cars or were just in the class. We all worked together on each other’s cars, shared knowledge and just talked about cars which is a great equalizer for learning about each other. The rioters never did come down our hall for us and went after others in the lunch room. A few people got hurt and the school would empty out to avoid more fights, complete chaos.
Well with Vietnam, right after High School it was off to basic training. Since I got a draft notice in eleventh grade, I knew another was coming after graduation, so I just joined. Of course you had the racial mixes in boot camp and the training makes you learn to rely on each other. The military in my opinion has always been a leader in breaking down barriers. Working for and with people of all races makes you appreciate what everyone brings to the table. So it only continued my experiences that we were basically all the same and if we just worked together it would be fine. Didn’t mean you had to hang with each other or be best friends, but it made you realize no one was really any better than the other person. The military is great at that.
Between leaving Swartz Creek and going through the predominately Black schools and the military I was able to move completely away from and actually refute things people would say at different times. Did it solve everything and change everyone’s mind? Of course not. But starting with ourselves and changing our perspective and tolerances can mean you influence your family and friends to come and move away from the past. I for one am extremely happy for the move into Flint, what I considered dramatic events at the time and the changes I was forced to go through. Was it fun? Of course not. Would I go back and change it? Never! It has changed
my life and also made my families lives much better by learning not to judge people or put people into certain boxes. It is far better to judge one by their actions, then by their race. Much easier to become actual friends. Unfortunately, we still have far too many people making money by continuing the race hatred agenda and that is truly unfortunate. Until we can get rid of them, we will always have trouble moving forward to put race behind us.