In Order to Move Forward You Have To Go Back

Being unemployed has given me the opportunity to pursue projects that had been put off too long. Several months ago I asked mother if slides that dad had taken of us in our early years was still at home. She said yes, and mailed the box containing slides and old photos to me.

Photography was one of my father's passions, he had purchased several cameras with the Kodak Retina IIIc being his favorite. He took pictures of us growing up in all kinds of scenes and situations, but his favorite pictures were the one he took of us at The Battery, Colonial Lake or Hampton Park. The pictures and slides were catalogued and at least once a year he would bring the projector and screen out and we'd watch the slides. He was particularly fond of taking pictures on Easter Sunday, we'd all get dressed up, head out to the and take pictures all day, making it a major event.

Until yesterday, it has been at least 40 years since I had seen many of these slides. Some of them are faded while others are as vibrant as the day he took them.

The picture you see here is a slide of a picture taken by him of us in Hampton Park about 2 months after my youngest sister, Monica was born. It has fast become on of my favorites because of the subject matter.

Most people who never lived in the South during the turbulent segregation era never realized that there were pockets of "semi-tolerance" and ironically Charleston was one of those places. Yes there were flash points ans hot spots, but for the most part, things were not as violent as in other Southern cities. The white citizens wanted to act like they were being inclusive - to a degree and while racists like Strom Thurmond ruled the day, the politicians in Charleston were cognizant of the fact that the city contained a large federal presence with both the then Naval Base and Air Force base being there.

The picture in Hampton Park speaks volumes of the era at that time. The elderly white lady looking at us with curiosity and disgust and my brothers turn their heads, watching to see if anything will be made of it. This sums up what was happening then, change for the better.

This photo is also a testament to a lot of the myths surrounding the south in the fact that we were not living in a ramshackle shack or hovel, we were fairly well off, my father being a detective for the Charleston Police Department, he would soon be nominated for the post of US Marshal for the Eastern district of South Carolina by Sen. Ernest Hollings.

You see, my parents, like everyone else regardless of race, color or creed had dreams for their children and they did everything possible to ensure our success. They wanted us to be exposed to as much as possible to make us realize that dreams lie beyond the railroad tracks of 43 Line St.

Over the next several weeks I will be posting these slides on here and giving you as much insight and detail as I can remember.

Photo: Hampton Park Easter Sunday 1963