Diversity Writing Contest A Trip To Segregation

Sun., Feb. 23, 1997

Jerrelene Williamson Spokane

Second Place

Upon going through a suitcase that contained memorabilia from my high-school years, I came upon a letter that was written to my mother from a Frances Williams in Portland. As I read the letter, I felt a flood of emotion that made the tears come to my eyes.

Back in 1948, when I was 16 years old, I traveled with the John Rogers High School glee club to Portland for a choral competition for high school girls. Our director was Mr. Forest Brigham. I was the only Negro girl in the group.

Since we were going to be in Portland overnight, we were to stay at the YWCA. After arriving in Portland, Mr. Brigham the choral director, who was white, took me aside and, with tears in his eyes, told me that I would be staying with a Negro teacher and his family instead of at the YWCA with the other girls.

A school official had informed him that, although I could stay at the YWCA, I most likely would be refused service at the Portland restaurants because of the policies of discrimination in Portland.

I smiled when I left the other girls, and said I would see them tomorrow, but I hurt inside. Discrimination hurts! Especially when you are young.

Mr. Williams, the Negro teacher, picked me up and took me to his home. When I met Mrs. Williams and their young son, who was 9 years old, those hurtful feelings somewhat left me.

We had dinner, we talked, and I spent the night. We had a wonderful time together. The next morning after breakfast, Mrs. Williams handed me the letter for my mother and I was taken back downtown for the choral competition.

In 1950, I graduated from John Rogers High School. My mother gave me the letter, and I put it away with my high school memories.

Recently, when I found the letter, I wondered if I might be able to contact the Williams family, and if they were still in Portland. Telephone information gave me the number of a Frances Williams, and I called. The son answered.

Mr. Williams was deceased. Mrs. Williams, who is in her 80s, talked to me along with her son. I told them I would send them a copy of the letter along with a picture of me at that time.

I did just that last week. Although I have not heard back from them yet, I know that I will.

I thank God that we are all still around and that we could have this lovely encounter.

I am 64 years old now. Many people have shaped my life, but these four have a special place: Mr. and Mrs. Williams, their son, and Mr. Forest Brigham (now deceased), who showed the sadness in his eyes when he had to tell me that I could not go with the other girls.

Discrimination hurts all of us.

P.S. Enclosed is a copy of the letter from 1948.

Dear Mrs. Hill: Although we have never met, I feel that all decent mothers have one thing in common and that is interest in our children.

I want to commend you on the wonderful job you are doing. We were very proud to have Jerrelene in our home; in fact, we hate to see her leave. It is such a pleasure to see a girl her age, so poised, and so much of a lady, yet able to enjoy herself so whole-heartedly. I think my son (age 9) would like very much to have her for his girl friend (smile).

I do hope she will want to go on to college because she will be not only a credit to you, but to our race as well.

Sincerely,

Frances Williams

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