February 1, 2010 was a cold morning in Greensboro, NC. Snow and ice patches that remained from a previous storm lined the streets. The difference between 7:15 am and 7:45 am was the influx of hundreds people gathered at the intersection of Elm Street and February One in downtown.
On this day, at this location fifty years ago four young men from North Carolina A&T University sat down at the lunch counter in the Woolworth’s building, and refused to give up their seats, which were reserved for white people only.
I was among the crowd, huddled together not only to celebrate the anniversary of this act of courage, but all the victories which came from the Civil Rights Movement. To commemorate the struggle, and teach future generations a lesson in tolerance and a piece of American history, the old Woolworth’s building was turned into a Civil Rights Museum, which was to be opened to the public that morning.
Outside of the museum’s doors, a stage stood before the masses, upon which Rev. Jesse Jackson (A&T alumnus), Senator Kay Hagan, and Governor Bev Purdue took turns speaking. Also on
stage were three of the four surviving members of the “Greensboro Four,” Franklin McCain, Joseph McNeil, and Jibreel Khazan. This area was blocked off and reserved for VIP guests and the media, while the majority of the crowd congregated around a jumbotron, in the street.Someone in the crowd made a comment about rebelling and rallying past the guarded gates, up to the stage. I found this interesting considering the circumstances.
As the ceremony came to a close, and the ribbon was cut, the streets were re-opened, but people continued to linger in anticipation to see the museum first hand. An announcement was made.
“There are no more tickets available to see the museum today.”
I came across an older couple sitting in the lobby. They did not have tickets. Even though they would not be able to see the museum today, the two of them sat in high spirits, happy to be among those present.
We were having a pleasant conversation and I asked them if they would be interested in an interview, to discuss what it was like living during the Civil Rights era and their thoughts on the museum. Luther Cheek obliged.
As I was interviewing Luther, something occurred to me. At nearly 27 years old, being removed from the Civil Rights era, I realized that I have never spoken with anyone who lived through this time about their first hand experiences.
Call it luck, or being in the right place at the right time, but as I was standing near the entrance of the museum I overheard one of the staff tell an older gentleman that they may have some extra tickets for one of the tours. I followed behind him, and as he walked away from the ticket desk successfully, I asked if they still had any left.
With my ticket in hand, I introduced myself to the same older gentleman who stood in line before me, waiting for the tour to start. His name is Titus McClenton.
Titus is also a Greensboro native, a Vietnam veteran who served in the Marine Corps and earned two Purple Hearts. He ventured out to the old Woolworth’s building by himself, but was beaming with joy and excitement. Titus agreed to an interview after the tour, and I was eager to hear what he had to say.
The tour highlighted major themes and events before, during, and after the Civil Rights era. Most impressive was the fully restored lunchroom that housed the counter where the Greensboro Four took a stand years ago. Even though I was with a group of about 20 people, the silence in that room was piercing. It felt like walking into a time capsule, and you could feel the air pressure on your ear-drums. Behind the counter were 5 large panels that played a video recreating the scene that took place in that room in 1960.
One disturbing artifact, living in a case a few rooms away, was a wooden baton used by a Georgian police officer, infamous for beating African Americans. A museum employee told me that he gladly signed the baton before it was set to be on display at the museum.
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