Too Short for a Blog Post, Too Long for a Tweet 490

 

Here are a few excerpts from a book I recently read, "Driving the Green Book: A Road Trip Through the Living History of Black Resistance," by Alvin Hall.

As I thought about the increase in the number of pages and listings in “The Green Book” as well as ads, some with pictures, in subsequent editions, I realized that the publication could be seen as an indicator of economic growth within Black communities and a self-created, expanding sense of freedom, although still segregated, promised by the American Dream.

  

“There will be a day sometime in the near future when this guide will not have to be published. That is when we as a race will have equal opportunities and privileges in the United States. It will be a great day for us to suspend this publication for then we can go wherever we please, and without embarrassment. But until that time comes we shall continue to publish this information for your convenience each year.”

  

These assumptions and stereotypes were especially pervasive during the time “The Green Book” was published. They were fueled in some measure by simple ignorance on the part of white people who either didn’t know many Black people or were unable to fully understand the lives and circumstances of the Black people they did know. Sadly, these beliefs were also embraced by many white people for less excusable reasons. Believing that Black people are foolish and wasteful in their behavior provides a socioeconomic explanation for poverty in the African American community that eliminates the role of racism and discrimination. If Black people bring poverty upon themselves and therefore “deserve” to be poor, there’s no need for white people to accept any responsibility for the legacy of racism – a comforting rationalization.

  

The second factor behind the popularity of large, “fancy” cars among some Black Americans was racial discrimination in hotels and motels. In countless communities across the country, it was impossible for Black travelers to find lodging that would accommodate them. As a result, millions of Black families driving across country to visit family or friends may have had to sleep in their cars in roadside rest sites while another person in the car stayed awake watching for possible trouble. Also, if you were traveling with children they could play and nap easily on the long bench seat in the back. No wonder many Blacks developed a philosophy that they passed on to their children: “When you buy a car, get the most comfortable and powerful one you can afford. You never know when you may have to sleep in it or when you may need the horsepower to get away from a problem.”

  

Furthermore, Chike pointed out, some Black workers found that the famous $5-per-day salary did not apply to them. Instead, these workers found themselves receiving paychecks of just around $3.50 per day from Ford. When they complained, they were told that, if they demonstrated themselves to be of “upright moral character,” they could arrange a special account at their neighborhood church, through which the additional pay might be received.

  

Many towns and cities had a very limited number of listings. For some destinations, “The Green Book” offered only “tourist homes” – private residences where travelers of color could rent rooms – a more random equivalent of today’s Airbnb service. In Mobile, Alabama, for example, Dr. James Franklin, a wealthy black physician, opened his home to local visitors from the obscure to the renowned. His guest book, now part of the collection at the History Museum of Mobile, includes pages signed by guests like opera star Marian Anderson, baseball legend Jackie Robinson, and NAACP officials Walter White and Roy Wilkins. None was welcome at any of the city’s fine hotels.

 

Some people whom Janee and I interviewed said they eventually began questioning their reliance on “The Green Book” – not only because more hotels, motels, restaurants, and other businesses were becoming open to Black customers, but also because the civil rights movement had championed and begun to spread a more assertive strategy for achieving equality. Rather than sticking with the safe path of patronizing the welcoming businesses featured in “The Green Book,” some Black Americans began to feel it was their duty to demand accommodation as whites-only businesses.

  

“Loree Bailey was actually working the motel switchboard on April 4. So, when Dr. King’s associates pick up the phone to call emergency services after the shots were fired, she makes the call. Later, she was handling a lot of the initial calls in the aftermath of the assassination. The next thing we know, she was on the phone with a friend and said, “You know, I’m not feeling well.” She went to her room, lay down, went to sleep, and never woke. She suffered a cerebral hemorrhage [at age sixty-eight] and ultimately passed away [five days later] on April 9, 1968 – the day of Dr. King’s funeral. 

After the assassination, Walter Bailey locked off the room where Dr. King stayed, and it was never rented out again. 

Mr. Bailey was very particular about honoring that space. He had a deep sense of the moment. But, you know, he and his son-in-law, Dr. Charles Champion, were also the ones who had to clean up the balcony. There are photographs of Mr. Bailey in the middle of the night, after the people from law enforcement had left with all the evidence they’d gathered, having to clean up. There’s a gravitas in that moment that I don’t think any of us will ever truly understand. There’s an intimacy and a sacredness in cleaning up the remains of the dead. There’s an honor in that. 

Dr. Champion is still alive today, and while he’s willing to talk about certain things, there’s a depth of emotion there that I don’t think we’ll ever really see revealed because that space, that moment, is filled with something that is levels below what can be excavated. 

So for the Baileys, April 4, 1968 is a doubly tragic day, because Loree Bailey passed away at the same time the national tragedy happened on their property.”