I rise today to pay tribute to Mr. Hyman Bookbinder, one of our nation's leading advocates for human rights and equality. The terrible stories and photographs coming out of Louisiana and Mississippi remind us that, among other things,…
I rise today to pay tribute to Mr. Hyman Bookbinder, one of our nation's leading advocates for human rights and equality.
The terrible stories and photographs coming out of Louisiana and Mississippi remind us that, among other things, there still is a race divide in America. This is not to say that the response to the disaster was dictated by racial considerations. But it is to say that sadly no accident that the segment of the population that bore much of the brunt of the suffering was predominantly poor and black.
At the same time, we can say with some pride that our country has made significant progress toward a more just society. It's far from enough but giant strides have been made, particularly in the area of social equality.
An article in Sunday's Washington Post reminded us that these advances did not just happen. They happened because heroes among us made them happen. I have attached a copy of the article for my colleagues.
The article tells the story about the successful 1960 effort to integrate Glen Echo Park, an amusement park in Montgomery County, Maryland, just outside the District line. Glen Echo was a fabulous place of swimming pools, dance halls, carousels, a roller coaster and other summer time amusements. It was so popular that a DC trolley from the Capitol Hill area--and neighborhoods east--was constantly full with kids heading northwest and up MacArthur Boulevard to this delightful recreation spot.
But not African American kids. They were allowed on the trolleys but banned from the park. And the ban was enforced by the Montgomery County police.
In 1960, a group of courageous Howard University students--Dion Diamond, Michael Proctor, and Gwendolyn Britt (now a Maryland state senator)--decided to test the race policy by riding the merry-go-round. They were abused and kicked out.
So they turned to ask for help from the prosperous white Bannockbum community living near the park. And, almost immediately, a movement erupted. Hyman Bookbinder, an AFL-CIO official, and long-time lobbyist for civil rights and Jewish causes, used his organizing and public relations skills to force the owners of Glen Echo Park to back down. Bookie, as everyone calls him, was later an aide to Presidents Kennedy and Johnson. Esther Delaplaine organized the mothers and Ida Leivick, a teacher at the local school, worked with her colleagues. Finally the Supreme Court stepped in and forced Glen Echo either to open up or shut down.
The Howard/Bannockbum coalition had prevailed.
This past Saturday, the people who made it happen gathered at Glen Echo to commemorate a moment in time when all things seemed possible in America.
They still are. We just need more people who are willing to stick their necks out the way these Howard University students and suburbanites did in 1960.
I particularly want to salute Hyman Bookbinder. He is now 89 and over the past sixty-five years, he has been at the forefront of the struggle for human rights, not just down the street in Montgomery County but throughout the world. I've been in the House of Representatives for eight years but I have heard about Bookie's years as a civil rights lobbyist when he was known as the 101st Senator. When people were suffering, he was here fighting, pushing, and cajoling to make things better.
He has helped change this country.
To put it simply, we need more people like Bookie. Thankfully he is still here, always fighting the good fight and living the Biblical injunction: ``Justice, justice, you shall pursue.''
[From washingtonpost.com, Sept. 11, 2005]
Marking a Park's Social Revolution
(by Ann E. Marimow)
The last time Dion Diamond walked through the gates of Glen
Echo Amusement Park, he was ushered out after two minutes.
The last time Michael Proctor tried to ride the merry-go-
round there, he was arrested.
That was in 1960, when blacks were not allowed to swim in
the park's famed Crystal Pool, with its slide and fountain,
and also could not ride on the roller coaster.
On Saturday, the two civil rights activists returned for
the first time to mark the anniversary of the picket lines
that led to the desegregation of the park and ultimately to a
U.S. Supreme Court case.
``I was never in here for more than a couple minutes,''
said Diamond, 64, laughing and shaking his head in disbelief
as he looked out at the same carousel, with its ornate
woodcarved horses and cheerful organ music.
Even though the park's private owners quietly opened the
gates to all in 1961, Proctor had never returned.
``I told my kids about it,'' the Hughesville doctor said.
``But way down deep, there were some negative feelings.''
The effort to integrate Glen Echo Park, in the summer of
1960, came after the first sit-ins at segregated lunch
counters in North Carolina and during student protests
throughout the region.
But Glen Echo Park was notable because of the support the
protesters, black Howard University students, received from
white residents of the nearby Bannockburn neighborhood, some
of whom were experienced labor leaders. They walked side by
side for five weeks that summer--and they came together again
yesterday.
Browsing a collage of black-and-white photos and yellowed
newspaper clippings, they recalled some of the most dramatic
moments when Proctor and four other members of the D.C. Non-
Violent Action Group were arrested for refusing to get off
the merry-go-round.
In 1964, the Supreme Court ruled that the Montgomery County
deputies had improperly enforced private segregation.
Outside the park gates in 1960, the students brought a
sense of fearlessness and enthusiasm. Stay-at-home mothers
from Bannockburn were the reliable foot soldiers on the
picket line, and the labor leaders brought political
connections and organizing strategies.
Esther Delaplaine, who lived five blocks from the park,
mobilized fellow mothers. She recalled the intense pain and
frustration of the time. ``We could ride the merry-go-round,
but [black students] got arrested,'' said Delaplaine, 81.
Her daughter Rocky led yesterday's gathering of 300 people
in an emotional rendition of ``O Freedom,'' a song that was
sung on the picket line,
Hyman Bookbinder, then an AFL-CIO lobbyist for civil
rights, was joined yesterday by his daughter and
granddaughter. ``The movement wasn't only for us old-timers.
It was for our families,'' said Bookbinder, 89. ``This event
is a reminder.''
For some involved in the sit-ins and picket lines, it was
too painful to return. Those who attended said it was as if
they were transported in time.
Seeing the trolley car parked in front of the gates, Tina
Clarke said she felt like a teenager again, as she was when
she protested with the county chapter of the NAACP. She said
she still could feel the spit on her cheek from a white male
heckler that stained the white collar of her blouse.
``There is no time frame on when pain and suffering should
end,'' said Clarke, 67, African American liaison for
Montgomery County Executive Douglas M. Duncan (D).
Clarke said she had to explain to friends and relatives who
questioned her decision to return to the park that it is now
an arts and cultural center operated by a nonprofit
partnership with lands managed by the National Park Service.
``It's not just my history; it's our history,'' she said.
``It's part of what helped us get to where we are today. If
none of these things happened, where would we be?''
But the park is a troubling memory for some who were
children at the time. When Vernon Ricks drives past the park
from his home in Potomac, he remembers riding the trolley car
to the entrance on Sundays. From the windows, he could see
the neon lights, the merry-go-round and the wooden roller
coaster, but he could not enter. He attended the gathering
because his wife, Janet, wanted to ``start the healing of a
scar,'' she said.
``To me, it is still a symbol of segregation,'' said Ricks,
66. ``I'm still not happy to be here.''
Later, he added, ``Don't say I'm coming back.''
Taking her husband's hand, Janet Ricks said, ``Yes, you
are. Yes, you are.''