'I've Whispered My Apology to Myself Many Times'
Mr.
Ted
Wagner,
Baton Rouge,
Louisiana
It was a cool Friday night in the fall of 1962. As a working undergraduate student at Louisiana State University with a wife and a three-year-old daughter, it was a weekly routine to dine out at a small drive-in just off campus. I ordered our burgers, returned to the car, and began our wait for our supper.
Another car pulled up. The occupants were black. There was a man, a wife, and a young daughter. The man walked to the window to place an order. The manager of the drive-in quickly reminded the customer that, "We don't serve niggers."
Without putting up an argument, the man returned to his car and drove off. Our order came. We ate quietly and left.
My wife and I discussed our feelings later. We felt deep sorrow for the black family's humiliation. Worse yet, we expressed our shame for passively observing an injustice and not acting in protest. I've relived this missed opportunity many times. To that family and every African American who suffered under Jim Crow laws, I offer my apology here in writing; however, I've whispered my apology to myself many times.
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