Daddy Put Our Truck in Gear!
On July 4, 1968, our father shifted our stalled flat-bed truck into gear, propelling it smoothly forward from its inertial Lockwood Avenue location, turning it back onto the parade route.
Several others had tried, but failed, to move that truck. Daddy appeared off the crowded sidewalk, unexpectedly, yes, heroically. He had then popped the clutch, slipped her into gear, fired that engine up, then rolled on away!
His effort moved more than our rental truck, which was tastefully decorated with our Webster Groves High school black and orange colors, replete with ribbons, streamers, and adorned with famous black posters, flags, bunting.
His know-how had reignited a spirit of latent activism epitomized in our "Fourth of July" parade "float," which had been temporarily stalled and unsuccessfully thwarted by police's antics, who unpatriotically sought to thwart our unprecedented entry into that annual community-wide parade!
Our float was then laden with 20-30 neighborhood brothers, who were leaning on its rails, gladly cheering Daddy's smooth, driving proficiency.
Daddy's gear-shifting maneuvers had been very instrumental in moving that St. Louis suburban community ahead in the history of interracial relations, which our impromptu entry insistently sought to breach by its brazen being!
Down the route we went waving and waxing proud to all, proceeding to the parade grounds known as "Forty Acres," where the "Fourth of July Fair"--swimming, rides, sales, treats--were available among the festivities .
Our happy sojourn was unreasonably obstructed, however, by our enforced placement behind an antique, mule-drawn fire pumper, behind which, an elderly black man was shoveling mule manure into a trailing wagon, just ahead of us! Daddy deigned this bold affront to be another kind of manure!
Aa we approached a bend around a corner , where an abandoned gas station yet stood, he cut across that empty parking lot, ahead of that mule-team, shifted gears, and accelerated forward to the end of the still-visible parade procession .
Having outfoxed our inhibitors, one of them reacted recklessly! A patrol car rocketed down the street smashing into our rental truck in an outrageous attempt to cut us off! It crashed into the passenger side! Once again we were stopped. But, this time, the hot, sweaty teenagers in the truck bed came streaming over the rails, loudly protesting that unnecessary collision!
Once again, Daddy calmly stepped in among the ring of brothers who had surrounded the offending policeman. Daddy stepped up, telling us all to go on up to the parade grounds, myself included; that he would handle this.
Hearing the music from the nearby fair grounds which was now only a short distance away, we brothers left Daddy, the wreckage, and the police, right there, and marched into the parade disembarkation area like conquering Fourth of July heroes!
No one had been physically injured! Our truck was insured. The bumper damage caused by the cop's car was was minor, being pulled forward, from the body. But, the police car's driver's and passenger's doors got creamed! Insurance, handled all of these crash matters, which the rental required.
Two weeks later Daddy received an arrest warrant and a citation from the City of Webster Groves accusing him of reckless and imprudent driving.
We went to court, had a bench trial and won! Our trial lawyer was later President of the Missouri Bar. I again introduced myself to him in the early 1980's and we both laughed about it! We had beat all charges in Webster Groves City Court. A favorable write up had appeared in the St. Louis Post Dispatch or the now-defunct St. Louis Globe-Democrat newspapers.
Daddy's are some very deep dudes!
Tuesday, August 2, 2016
DADDY PUT OUR TRUCK IN GEAR
Daddy Put Our Truck in Gear!
On July 4, 1968, our father shifted our stalled flat-bed truck into gear, propelling it smoothly forward from its inertial Lockwood Avenue location, turning it back onto the parade route.
Several others had tried, but failed, to move that truck. Daddy appeared off the crowded sidewalk, unexpectedly, yes, heroically. He had then popped the clutch, slipped her into gear, fired that engine up, then rolled on away!
His effort moved more than our rental truck, which was tastefully decorated with our Webster Groves High school black and orange colors, replete with ribbons, streamers, and adorned with famous black posters, flags, bunting.
His know-how had reignited a spirit of latent activism epitomized in our "Fourth of July" parade "float," which had been temporarily stalled and unsuccessfully thwarted by police's antics, who unpatriotically sought to thwart our unprecedented entry into that annual community-wide parade!
Our float was then laden with 20-30 neighborhood brothers, who were leaning on its rails, gladly cheering Daddy's smooth, driving proficiency.
Daddy's gear-shifting maneuvers had been very instrumental in moving that St. Louis suburban community ahead in the history of interracial relations, which our impromptu entry insistently sought to breach by its brazen being!
Down the route we went waving and waxing proud to all, proceeding to the parade grounds known as "Forty Acres," where the "Fourth of July Fair"--swimming, rides, sales, treats--were available among the festivities .
Our happy sojourn was unreasonably obstructed, however, by our enforced placement behind an antique, mule-drawn fire pumper, behind which, an elderly black man was shoveling mule manure into a trailing wagon, just ahead of us! Daddy deigned this bold affront to be another kind of manure!
Aa we approached a bend around a corner , where an abandoned gas station yet stood, he cut across that empty parking lot, ahead of that mule-team, shifted gears, and accelerated forward to the end of the still-visible parade procession .
Having outfoxed our inhibitors, one of them reacted recklessly! A patrol car rocketed down the street smashing into our rental truck in an outrageous attempt to cut us off! It crashed into the passenger side! Once again we were stopped. But, this time, the hot, sweaty teenagers in the truck bed came streaming over the rails, loudly protesting that unnecessary collision!
Once again, Daddy calmly stepped in among the ring of brothers who had surrounded the offending policeman. Daddy stepped up, telling us all to go on up to the parade grounds, myself included; that he would handle this.
Hearing the music from the nearby fair grounds which was now only a short distance away, we brothers left Daddy, the wreckage, and the police, right there, and marched into the parade disembarkation area like conquering Fourth of July heroes!
No one had been physically injured! Our truck was insured. The bumper damage caused by the cop's car was was minor, being pulled forward, from the body. But, the police car's driver's and passenger's doors got creamed! Insurance, handled all of these crash matters, which the rental required.
Two weeks later Daddy received an arrest warrant and a citation from the City of Webster Groves accusing him of reckless and imprudent driving.
We went to court, had a bench trial and won! Our trial lawyer was later President of the Missouri Bar. I again introduced myself to him in the early 1980's and we both laughed about it! We had beat all charges in Webster Groves City Court. A favorable write up had appeared in the St. Louis Post Dispatch or the now-defunct St. Louis Globe-Democrat newspapers.
Daddy's are some very deep dudes!
