Suburban Soliloquies #7
~REGARDING AFRICAN-AMERICANS IN SUBURBIA~
I am African-American, just not as recently arrived from
Africa as some of
my fellow citizens. Many of them came in recent centuries,
while my
predecessors spent the centuries prior to this one
muddling about Europe,
and the millennia before that in the Near East as rulers,
slaves, thieves,
farmers, warriors, and, in turn, everything in-between.
One might have to
go back to the beginning of the Quaternary Period to find
my family
residents of Africa. My forefathers probably spent the
better part of the
Pleistocene there. Despite my ancestors having retained an
African address
for an epoch, until recently, when filling forms that
asked for my race,
this present society expected me to mark "White". I'm glad
to report the
question has become optional, now, in most cases.
The first Levittown was begun in New York in 1947 and
had incorporated into
the original contracts the line, "No dwelling shall be
used or occupied by
members of other than the Caucasian race, but the
employment and maintenance
of other than Caucasian domestic servants shall be
permitted." Federal law
had soon change this.
William Jaird Levitt said that "the plain fact is that
most Whites prefer
not to live in mixed communities. This attitude may be
wrong morally, and
some day it may change. I hope it will." It can't be
said that W.J. Levitt
allowed his moral indignation to get in the way of
making his fortune.
Perhaps he was being sincere, but even after the laws
changed the salesmen
retained the policy of never selling to "Negroes".
William E. Myers Jr., a refrigeration engineer, whose
wife was expecting her
third child, decided they needed a bigger house and
purchased 43 Deepgreen
Lane in Levittown's Dogwood Hollow. That was in August
of 1957. They were
the first African-Americans to move into Levittown,
Pennsylvania. The
realtors would have never sold the house to them, but
the Myers had bought
their home from the previous owner.
When the community discovered that Mr. and Mrs. Myers
were not a house
painter and a maid but new residents, they rioted. The
next day the street
filled with cars and a mob formed. After dark, affording
fools to be
shameless, the crowd screamed insults, and at midnight
rocks destroyed the
Myers' picture window. The mob kept up the siege,
howling insults, for the
next eight days, drawing international notice. On the
eighth day a local
policeman got knocked unconscious by a rock and only
then did the State
Troopers disperse the crowd.
One James E. Newell was not to be daunted by the State
Troopers. In his
crusade to rid Levittown of the Myers, he formed the
Levittown Betterment
Committee. They sought the assistance of the Ku Klux
Klan.
In the days that followed, an "anti-Negro" group
occupied a vacant house
behind the Myers, displaying the Confederate Flag.
Someone took to burning
crosses on the lawns of the families that sympathized
and supported the
Myers, such as their immediate neighbours, the
Wechslers. Eventually
Reverend Ray L. Harwick formed a Citizens' Committee to
support the Myers,
and State Attorney General Thomas D. McBride had the
Bucks County Court
issue an injunction to prevent further harassment.
It was much easier when Ms Keogh and I moved into
Levittown, Pennsylvania in
1983. Although Ms Keogh and I were regarded as White by
our neighbours, our
children were regarded as Black. They were the product
of a previous
marriage. I know it was not easy for my children, but I
have yet to learn
the details of the trials and torments they had to
undergo in that
blue-collar section of Levittown. Now that they are both
adults and have
moved away from home to lead independent lives, it is my
hope they are
prepared to share and discuss what they had kept secret,
or couldn't
themselves as children fully understand.
Our species is but one colour and that is brown. It is a
terrible absurdity
that most people think the level of melanin in the skin
can influence a
person's intellect or mannerism. I am especially
offended that the hue of
flesh continues to alienate people, and in my particular
household it had
even contributed to the generation gap.
In the end our sojourn in that blue-collar neighbourhood
became untenable
for many reasons. Our departure was only slightly
delayed by the frequency
with which someone was putting nails in our tires. We
had no choice but to
escape to a higher standard of living.
We moved into a better neighbourhood of Levittown where
the houses are
larger, the spaces between houses are wider, where all
the houses are
supplied with central air conditioning, and where the
streets are regularly
repaved. Here there are no abandoned cars. We moved into
the house
formerly owned by my parents. This being a better
educated and white-collar
neighbourhood, I do believe matters became much more
comfortable and
pleasant for the children.
Still, the life of any child is never what the parent
expects it to be. It
is never the childhood we ourselves endured or enjoyed.
We try to either
recreate or improve the experience of childhood for our
children, but they,
being very different people from birth, will always
experience it in some
novel way we cannot anticipate.
Most people go through life without ever knowing their
children, without
ever knowing who their parents really are. We establish
impressions very
early and adhere to them for the sake of some false
sense of security, if
only because we need to place the blame somewhere other
than on our own
heads for whatever unhappiness befalls us. It is very
hard to listen to our
parents or children with fresh ears.
We had moved to Levittown for the sake of the children.
It was where I grew
up, a safe community where a child on bicycle has plenty
to explore. We now
have African-American neighbours. Not many, just a few.
I hope it is as
quiet and comfortable for them.