Monday, January 6, 2014

How Did Blacks Travel Before 1950? Very Very Carefully


Yeah, yeah, poo-poo, fuck you, the war was over.


You were back, you're kinda settled in, and now all you wanted was to pack up your family, hit the open road, and get a really good look at this country you fought and almost died for - so what did you do?


You consulted “1949's Negro Motorist Green Book”, that's what you did.


That way, you and the wife could look up travel advice - especially on whether a particular American community had facilities (or whatever) friendly to blacks - and you know what?




Unless  you're one of those just trying to avoid the whole issue,…
 

1 comment:

  1. Funny you should bring this up -- because back in the early '70s I can remember my gramps getting a visit from some folks in white, pointy hats (late at night of course).
    His indiscretion?
    Some black guy and his family were broken down on the side of the road, and Gramps sold them a new tire plus change, some gas, and some soda pops.
    Gramps logic was good: they paid good cash money and were broken down on the side of the road on a hot summer day, and his was the only station for the next thirty miles.
    That apparently wasn't a good reason enough.

    Some of the things about "the good old days" aren't so bad -- some traditional things are worth hanging on to -- but there are other things that really need to be gotten rid of...as the above little story suggests.
    Problem is, we seem to have our hearts set on hanging on to the wrong things and pitching the ones that were probably worth a damn.

    So a dad and his family packing up to family car to go do a little sight seeing -- by all means yes -- but having to walk through a minefield in the process just because of said man's skin color? Uhm, no.
    Conducting honest business "fair and square, with no regrets on either side" (as Gramps used to say) -- yes -- getting harassed for providing said service -- uhm, hell no.

    PW

    *Grandma shoved a shotgun in their visitors' faces, so it ended about as well as possible (my dog did wind up dead in front of their house the next day, so there's that, but it could have been worse -- because folks like that are about as smart as they are decent). Lesson learned shall we say.

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