Audio
Oral History Interview with Willie Shepperson Pt 3
Transcript
Oloye Adeyemon: Uh, continuing, this is actually the third part of the interview with, uh, Mr. Shepperson. You, um, stopped part two at the point that you were talking about a rally that was-that was held here, in Farmville. Who, uh, organized this rally?
Willie Shepperson: It wasn’t a rally. It was a meeting—
Oloye Adeyemon: A meeting?
Willie Shepperson: - that was demanded that all the black folk in Prince Edward County attend because, at that time, uh, the students—when Anderson was principal or superintendent of schools, um, the students were-were walkin’ out of the classrooms—
Oloye Adeyemon: Why?
Willie Shepperson: - as a demonstration over a number of issues, from the way teachers were treating them to a lack of facilities in the school, a number of things. This is in the new school, not the old Robert R. Moton, different.
Oloye Adeyemon: These are different walkouts. This isn’t the—
Willie Shepperson: These are different walkouts. They had several of them. And every time the kids would walk out, this would cost the county money.
Oloye Adeyemon: Was Reverend, uh, Griffin involved in organizing these?
Willie Shepperson: Reverend Griffin was involved, yes, and so was I. Because the system was set up whereby that I could drive past that school and do a certain thing. And within five minutes, the school was empty, and the kids would walk down 15th down to First Baptist Church. Um.
Oloye Adeyemon: This—what years would these by? What-what year was this [unintelligible 01:35]? ’Cause, uh, Anderson came in 1971.
Willie Shepperson: This would be ’71-’72, in that area.
Oloye Adeyemon: Okay.
Willie Shepperson: So, anyway, the governor decided that he needed to talk to these black folk. So, he sent out the message that they were all supposed to meet at the armory here, in Farmville. So, they met at the armory, and his representative made the following statement. Now, you can find this—
Oloye Adeyemon: Do you know who that was, who that representative was?
Willie Shepperson: No, no. But it was taped by WLVA out of Lynchburg, Virginia, the news station there.
Oloye Adeyemon: This would’ve been in ’72?
Willie Shepperson: Uh-huh. Yeah. And he made the statement that the next—and the sher—local sheriff was there and a number of his secret deputies. Because he had a number of people who were secret deputies. They were black folk, secret deputies with their badge and their guns in their pocket. Uh, the state police was stationed at certain sections around town in case any problems arise—arose. Um, somehow, they always feel black folk can’t behave themselves for some reason.
But anyway, he made the statement that the next time those children walked out of school, that they were gonna crack some heads. And he asked if anybody had a problem with that. Well, nobody said anything, so I said, “Yeah, I have a problem with it.” So, I came up to talk to him and tell him what my problem was. And I told him that in order to crack a head, you gotta bring a head. And all this singin’ about head crackin’ days, they over. And I said, “To show you where I stand on this, all of the children will walk out of the school Tuesday morning. Crack a head. Lemme see it.” That’s enough. We walked out—they walked out that Tuesday morning. No heads were cracked.
So, then they changed their attitude, and they sought to sit with Revered Griffin, who was—uh, I believe he was president of the PTA at that time also, and to deal with some of the issues that were involved with the students at the new Robert R. Moton High School.
Oloye Adeyemon: Hmm.
Willie Shepperson: But I think that was as close to open warfare as we got here, in this county. That night and, in particular, that Tuesday morning, no one knows how much of a powder keg this town was. Ready to explode. And it was not going to explode to local people because they weren’t gonna do anything. These people came from other places. And if one child had gotten hurt, this town would’ve exploded. But it was lucky that none of that took place. That’s-that’s one of the instan-instances that I remember, uh, with Reverend Griffin.
Reverend Griffin was always—always believed in non-violent resistance. There is a better way. That’s what he believed, and he lived it. Lord knows he lived it. And I was at the opposite end of the spectrum because all of my training and all of my teaching throughout my career has been—
Oloye Adeyemon: Union organizing.
Willie Shepperson: - yes, as a union organizer. You don’t allow anybody to put their hands on you or to hurt not only you but to hurt your comrade, your friend, your union brother or sister. And you stand there and look at them and sing and pray. No, you don’t do that. That’s not the way it’s done. And when I came here, I told him that. And I said, “If you want me to work with you, that’s the way I’m gonna have to work with you. I’m not gonna be out there singin’ and prayin’. I’m not going downtown and kneel on this—on the courthouse steps with you. No, I’m not gonna do that. But if you happen to need someone to take a different approach, to let this governor know what it feels like to get upside the head”—
Because he really don’t know. He does-he does all the hittin’. If he wants to know what it feels—wanted to know what it feels like to hit upside the head, talk to me. If he wanted to know what it feels like that he carry somebody down the woods and lynch ’em, if the following night, somebody that he knows is down in the woods lynch—you talk to me. I’ll do that, but I’m not gonna sit and pray. I’m not gonna march either. And I didn’t. And that day was as close as it ever came for this town to explode. And I am happy now that it didn’t explode. I am. But at that time, it was ready to go.
Oloye Adeyemon: So, help us understand, uh—n-now I wanna go on to what’s happening today. Help us understand what, uh, from your experience and your knowledge, your understanding, was the reason that Prince Edward County was the only county, uh, who had schools closed. Were there other counties that were considering doing the same thing in Virginia?
Willie Shepperson: Based on the law that we talked about earlier that was passed, the legislation that was passed, um, all of the counties in the State of Virginia were given the option of closing their schools rather than to integrate. All of them were given the option of setting up private institutions. And most of them did because they had the private academy in Amelia. They had-had a lot of ’em. But when Amelia voted, their board-their board of supervisors voted, they lost the closing of the schools by one vote. Well, when Cumberland voted, they had heard about what happened in Amelia. They didn’t vote to close theirs. And Prince Edward County was the only one that voted to close theirs, and they were gonna be the test case. For the Supreme Court, for the State of Virginia, Virginia was a test. And—
Oloye Adeyemon: And they knew they had the full support of the state.
Willie Shepperson: They had the full support of the state—
Oloye Adeyemon: [Crosstalk 07:41].
Willie Shepperson: - and the surrounding counties, and the surrounding counties. Now, in Charlottesville, there was, uh, um, uh, some demonstrations from—by the students in Charlottesville, Virginia, but nothing compared to that in, uh, Virginia.
Oloye Adeyemon: Louis Redding, who I had a chance to interview, was representing, uh, the State of Delaware at the Supreme Court, said that, uh, the Attorney General of Virginia was the leader of that whole faction at the Supreme Court that were trying to uphold the lower courtrooms. Well, except for the case in D-Delaware.
Willie Shepperson: Well—
Oloye Adeyemon: They had actually lost with the—upholding segregation in, uh, South Carolina, uh, Delaware, DC, and Kansas, those states, uh, all were-were, um—that-that the-the Attorney General of, uh, Virginia took a leadership role—
Willie Shepperson: Mm-hmm.
Oloye Adeyemon: - in that. Uh, was this during the years of what, I think, off the record, you referred to as the Bird Machine.
Willie Shepperson: The Bird Machine was there. Oh, yes. Bird Machine was responsible for this legislation we talked about.
Oloye Adeyemon: What was the Bird Machine?
Willie Shepperson: The Bird Machine was a political machine. Whoever Bird supported for public office, they-they went in. And whoever he didn’t want in there, they didn’t go in. Very powerful.
Oloye Adeyemon: So, this was not just something that, um, happened in-in Prince Edward County. This was something that, uh, Washington happened—this-this was definitely something that-that, um, was a reflection of the position of the State of Virginia, too—
Willie Shepperson: Yes.
Oloye Adeyemon: As a-as a state governor.
Willie Shepperson: That’s right. And Bird represented—Virginia, Bird represented Virginia more so than the governor.
Oloye Adeyemon: Mm.
Willie Shepperson: Harry Bird was Virginia.
Oloye Adeyemon: He was in congress.
Willie Shepperson: Yes.
Oloye Adeyemon: Bring-bring us up to the present. You know, you are retired, uh, from the union. You live in Maryland. Uh, are you—have you kept up with what thing-what things—
Willie Shepperson: Oh, yeah.
Oloye Adeyemon: - what-what’s going on today?
Willie Shepperson: Oh, yes.
Oloye Adeyemon: Uh, and I’d like for you to talk both about what’s going on in the county and in Farmville in general. Uh, if there are positive changes, what they are. If there’s work left to be done, what that is. And what’s happening with the schools? I’d always like for you to talk about, um, the efforts to, uh, commemorate this story and, uh, saving the school and the museum. I’d like you to, you know, just for-for the rest of the interview, talk about what’s happening today in, uh, Farmville.
Willie Shepperson: Well, I think probably a good place to start is when Farmville and Prince Edward County decided that they needed to hide their misdeeds. And the hiding of their misdeeds mean that they’ve met—they need-they needed to destroy all tangible evidence, if possible, of what took place that brought about Brown v. Board of Education. So, the first place to start was at the old white high school. They tore it down. The bulldozer tore it down, leveled it to the ground. And Edwilda Isaacs—Edwilda Allen at the time when we walked out of school, former student—happened to be riding by one day when they were tearing that building down.
Oloye Adeyemon: Was the building still strong and still—
Willie Shepperson: Oh, it was still strong. They could’ve used that building to-to, uh, teach children in, but they had to get rid of it because it was a symbol of something, a symbol of their failure, so they had to get rid of it. So, she came home and said to her mother that, you know, “They’re tearing down the old white high school. I bet you, sooner or later, they’re gonna come up and try to tear-tear down our school, Robert. R. Moton. We need to save it.”
Oloye Adeyemon: About what year would that have been? Would that have been in the ‘80s.
Willie Shepperson: 19-19—no, no, no.
Oloye Adeyemon: In the ‘90s?
Willie Shepperson: 1994-1995, somewhere around there. Because they started the movement then to raise funds to purchase a school.
Oloye Adeyemon: Purchase Moton.
Willie Shepperson: Robert R. Moton High School. And they also—
Oloye Adeyemon: Which was the building that was—the walkout occurred in.
Willie Shepperson: That’s correct. That’s correct.
Oloye Adeyemon: Now, at the point that they start trying to raise that money to do that, how was that building being used at that particular time?
Willie Shepperson: It wasn’t being used at all at that time. Because p-prior to that, it had been used as an elementary school, prior to the elementary complex being completed out there where the new high school is.
Oloye Adeyemon: Once that was done, how was it used?
Willie Shepperson: It was just there. It was just there.
Oloye Adeyemon: [Unintelligible 12:28].
Willie Shepperson: No, there was no swords. It was just there.
Oloye Adeyemon: Just there.
Willie Shepperson: They-they were using the old Mary Branch as a community center.
Oloye Adeyemon: Which is the school that was—preceded it.
Willie Shepperson: Yes.
Oloye Adeyemon: Okay. So, there was a fear, then, on Edwilda Issacs’ part that this school might be torn down.
Willie Shepperson: That it might be torn down, yes. Um, once Longwood bought the athletic field, they used to open that end up to go in—for people to go in and-and out of it. For whatever reason, the bathrooms weren’t fixed, so I don't know what they were going in and out of it. But they opened it up when the people would come up and play their games or whatever. Uh.
Oloye Adeyemon: Right. ’Cause the-the-the-the-the f-field for the college is right next to—
Willie Shepperson: Yes.
Oloye Adeyemon: - where the old high school was.
Willie Shepperson: Yes, and they bought it.
Oloye Adeyemon: Oh, they bought it?
Willie Shepperson: Longwood bought the field.
Oloye Adeyemon: The field, but not the school. The school is still owned by the county.
Willie Shepperson: Still school-still—s-s-school is still owned by the county at this point.
Oloye Adeyemon: Is it owned by the county or—
Willie Shepperson: Are you talking about today?
Oloye Adeyemon: - is it specifically—no, then, ’94. Was it owned by the county, or was it still owned by the school district itself at that point, in ’94, which is—
Willie Shepperson: Owned by the board of supervisors.
Oloye Adeyemon: Owned by the board of supervisors.
Willie Shepperson: So, they started to talk to the board of supervisors about purchasing the school and making it—giving it a national historic site status.
Oloye Adeyemon: Now, when you say “they,” this is Edwilda and who else?
Willie Shepperson: This is the Martha E. Forrester Council of Women.
Oloye Adeyemon: Her mother, at that time, was the president.
Willie Shepperson: President.
Oloye Adeyemon: Vera Allen.
Willie Shepperson: Vera Allen. The county never felt that these 70—late 70, early and middle 80-year-old black women could pull it off. So, they decided not to tear it down and give them options and gave ’em a deadline when to get this money together for the purchase of the school, $300,000. First, it was $1 million for the school and the playground, athletic field. So, they decided—
Oloye Adeyemon: The athletic field is owned by the college.
Willie Shepperson: Listen-listen to me.
Oloye Adeyemon: Okay.
Willie Shepperson: The first proposal was that they would buy the athletic field and the school. Martha E. Forrester would purchase both. The county gave them a price of $1 million and a deadline as to when to have this money there in certain increments. Martha E. Forrester decided they didn’t want the athletic field. All they wanted was the school and the grounds the school was sitting on. Longwood then said, “Well, I will purchase the athletic field.” Longwood purchased the athletic field, allegedly, for $700,000, and there was $300,000 that, uh, was used by Martha E. Forrester to purchase the high school. That’s-that’s the connection.
Now, once they had started raising these funds and gave certain downpayments and all the deadlines were established, Martha E. Forrester sought to have the Robert R. Moton High School recognized as an historical landmark. The county was opposed to that because of—they said they’d rather see the thing torn down. So, they got two—they, meaning the board of supervisors, got two black females in this town to write letters to the National Park Service telling them that they didn’t want Robert R. Moton High School designated a national landmark.
Oloye Adeyemon: Both—
Willie Shepperson: And both of these were public officials.
Oloye Adeyemon: What was the reason they gave in the letter as to the objection?
Willie Shepperson: They didn’t give a reason that I know of. Now, the letters should be available because they were printed in the Farmville Herald. So, therefore, a copy of that should be available through the Farm-Farmville Herald. But anyway, they finally gave the designation. And Martha E. Forrester had put up the first initial $100,000 by private donations from Prince Edward County, the students, Prince Edward County residents. The students who attended the school, um, cooking fish fries and chicken and barbecues and all this.
And then once the county board of supervisors took a look at this and said, “Hey, looks like these folks are gonna be successful here. So, we can’t have them owning this school because they have now told us that we’re gonna have a national heritage trail coming through here. And this thing is gonna generate lots of money. We need control of it. And we need control of what’s being said about how this county was going to be portrayed in the future. So, we gotta take control of this thing.”
So, then they get our good friend Mayfield, which I like to—his name is Thomas Mayfield, but I like to refer to him as—affectionately as Uncle Tom. Mayfield joined the Martha E. Forrester Council of Women. And he convinced Mrs. Allen without a vote of the, uh, Martha E. Forrester Council of Women—the two of them did this secretly, on their own. Went down to the courthouse and transferred all of Martha E. Forrester’s rights to that building to the Robert R. Moton Museum Inc. All the monies that they had raised, they put it into, um, the Robert R. Moton Museum Inc. because Mayfield told Mrs. Allen that it would be nice if both of them, both organizations, owned the building collectively together. But that’s not what he did. He slipped her out of it, and now it was owned solely by the Robert R. Moton Museum Inc.
Now, Mayfield had done his job. So, it was necessary to get rid of Mayfield because they didn’t want a black man heading up this thing. So, in comes General Samuel Wilson. Samuel Wilson told me and others that in order for the county to forgive the debt on the school and give it to the Robert R. Moton Museum Inc. plus a $50,000 donation, they would have to get rid of Mayfield. Mayfield had to go. Not only did Mayfield have to go, but Carl Eggleston also had to go, which is a young e—black entrepreneur here who owns one of the prettiest funeral homes in this town.
So, they set about to get about Mayfield. And the way they did this, they wrote up some by-laws—pieces of junk—that created a by-law nominating committee. And the only way you could get positions on this board is you have to come to this nominating committee. They told Mayfield who put on the nominating committee, all white folks. So, when it came around time for offices to be elected in, they all nominated General Wilson for president, didn’t nominate Mayfield. So, they tried to make this thing look as democratic as possible. They voted unanimously to reseat all the previous board members but to vote for the position of president by secret ballot vote. If you can picture this.
So, Mayfield got voted out. The reason why that he gave me—the he being Wilson gave me that, uh, Mayfield had to be voted out because, allegedly, Mayfield was misusing the monies that was being raised by giving Marsh $72,000 in legal fees for doing nothing.
Oloye Adeyemon: Who was Marsh?
Willie Shepperson: That attorney that you met when you were down at Harbor Hills. Do you remember Marsh coming in there?
Oloye Adeyemon: The partner of, uh, Oliver Hill.
Willie Shepperson: That’s right. Also a state senator who has no business taking funds from this organization because part of this money was donated by the state, and he can’t do that. But anyway—and the reason why he wanted to get rid of, uh, Carl Eggleston because he questions Carl’s integrity. Well, these two gentlemen are still there. Because once he won the presidency, Mayfield got ticked off, and Mayfield left town. Well, this disturbed the good white folks downtown because Mayfield is their mouthpiece. He’s their chosen leader for Prince Edward County. So, he had to bring him back, and he appointed him back to the board as past president emeritus with the right to vote and help make policy for the board.
Now they have a dilemma. They have been working for almost five years trying to get a set of by-laws written, and he signed their piece of junk. And each time, I told him, “They’re a piece of junk.” That last one they got was a piece of junk. I told him, “It’s a piece of junk.” And in this particular instance, we ticked the old r—the old general off. Ken Woodley, who’s edit-editor of the Farmville Herald, wrote him a letter supporting my position, telling him it was a piece of junk.
Oloye Adeyemon: This is from the Farmville Herald.
Willie Shepperson: Farmville Herald, here, in Farmville, told him it was a piece of junk. So, he says to me at the last meeting that if anybody didn’t like what he was doing, he would resign. I said, “You keep sayin’ that, and you don’t do it. Do it. Step down. Resign. Go. Who needs you?” Well, he got very upset, and he says to the people in the room, “Well, you see, I’ve been asked to resign. I’ve been asked to resign. What do you all think? I’ve been asked to resign.” I said, “General, you didn’t ask them. You asked me. You wanted to know my opinion. I gave it. Resign. Step down. Who needs you?”
For 50 years, that school has been sitting up there, and for 50 years, the situation in Farmville, Virginia, as far as the student walkouts concerned, everybody knew about it, including the general. The general didn’t open his mouth in 1951. He didn’t open his mouth in 1961. He didn’t open his mouth in 1971 or ’81 or ’91. Here it is, 19—the year 2000, all of a sudden, the general gets involved. Why? What’s in it for the general? Why is he doing this? Is he run—gonna run for some political office? Does he plan to use it as a stepping stone to run for congress or something? Because I certainly can’t see why he has such an interest 50 years later and-and never said a word about what went on prior to.
His claim to fame is that his grandmother taught Robert Russa Moton how to read. Well, hell, who cares? What does that got to do with what took place that created Brown v. Board of Education? While I admire the fact that Robert Russa Moton was a black man, a black educator who went on to teach at—become superintendent at Tuskegee University—Tuskegee down in, um, Alabama, Robert Russa Moton, the man, never did a damn thing for education in Prince Edward County. I mean, so, what’s with the Robert R. Moton thing? The only thing he put up there was his name.
The person who did the most for education and for black people, and especially young blacks, in Prince Edward County way back in the beginning-beginning was a lady named Martha E. Forrester. And this organization that Mrs. Allen heads up bears her name. She assessed-assessed her members X number of dollars per month in order to raise the money to buy the land and purchase the first school over there, M-Mary Branch. Now, if you’re going to, um, highlight anybody’s life, highlight Martha E. Forrester, not, uh, Robert R. Moton. He didn’t do a damned thing. And that’s not a criticism of him. It’s a criticism of those who choose to put him in the spot as a limelight because it causes, uh, less exposure to what they didn’t do.
Robert R. Moton—Robert Russa Moton does not have a history here, in Prince Edward County. So, therefore, you don’t have to explain nothin’. Martha E. Forrester has a history here. And if you’re gonna start talkin’ about her history and what she did, that causes you—you have to explain why you were in opposition to it.
[Pause 24:40 - 24:51]
Willie Shepperson: They are now trying to raise funds to, uh, make this museum a reality. It’s not gonna happen. Because you’ve tapped out the resources in Farmville. They’ve given all that they’re gonna give. The white folks ain’t givin’ no money to this thing because it’s still a sore thumb. You’ve got a number of millionaires here. They’re not gonna—they could raise that building and put it in a—number one shape like this [snaps fingers] if they wanted to. But they’re not gonna do it because they still resent that building. There are still folks here who are on opposite sides of that racial line that’s drawn in the red clay of Prince Edward County. So, you gotta—that line drawn in that red clay of Prince Edward County is very, very visible to those of us who have-who have lived here or those of us who live here or stay here for any period of time. Um, they resent the fact that they lost that issue.
Imagine, if you will, the Supreme Court saying to Prince Edward County and the other areas of Brown v. Board of Education, “We support Plessy Ferguson in public e-education also. In addition to transportation, we supported pub-supported public education.” Separate but equal doctrine will stand. And we, in turn, of all five areas says, “Nah, we ain’t gonna abide by that law. We go up there. We’re gonna walk inside those white schools.” They’d have whooped our asses down into the ground, locked you up, and every other thing.
But the white folks said, “We disagree with Brown v. Board of Education’s decision.” And they did every damn thing they could to-to fight it. And not one of ’em ever went to jail, not one. Not-not one of them was ever even arrested. And the Supreme Court itself played footsie. When the Supreme Court hands down the decision, they also hands down a remedy. Check it out in history. They did not hand down a remedy for Plessy—I mean, uh, for Brown v. Board of Education. They said, “Do it.” It’s illegal. It’s illegal. And you gotta change it. You gotta change it with all deliberate speed. But they left it up to the states to decide how to do it, which means they can drag this thing on and on.
Do you know they’re still fightin’ Brown v. Board of Education? They’re still fighting it right now. While the schools are allegedly integrated, they are still fighting it. In Boston, Massachusetts, they-they’re still fighting busing. The remedy—one of the remedies was busing, they’re still fighting it right now in Boston, Massachusetts. In Maryland, they are redistributing as a means of fighting, uh, Brown v. Board of Education.
In Prince Edward County, they’re s—just as recently as two years ago, they had a—uh, something called, um—for want of a better word, it was supposed to be outstanding students, students who were above average. They got all these students together in one group. It was, uh, a little over 100 of ’em. And they were going to construct a separate building out here on the campus of the Prince Edward County complex, school complex, just to house these children so they could be away from the rest of the children.
Now, every one of those students in that so-called elite class was white. So, now, what have you just done? You have just created—you just created s-segregated—a segregated system within an integrated system. And luckily, word got out and-and folks protested it, and it didn’t happen. So, they’re still fighting Brown v. Board of Education because in the minds of the majority of the white people in this country, integrated schools represents integrated bedrooms and that—they can’t handle that.
If they castrated every young black in this country, they wouldn’t have any problem with integrating—integration. If they castrated every young black man in this count-in this country, they wouldn’t have any problem with integration. They wouldn’t. ’Cause the thing that they fear most has just been eliminated. And that’s why you have the blue lights down there, in Farmville. If all the black men in Farmville was castrated, you wouldn’t need no blue lights. If all the black men in Farmville were castrated, you wouldn’t have certain folks who send their sons, their white sons, to public school and their white daughters to Fuqua, a private school. You wouldn’t have that.
And Farmville wants to keep this hidden. So, therefore, you have Wilson and his little group up there who are gonna do everything they can to make that museum tell his story, not history but his story. And his story’s gonna be that things weren’t so bad here. If it hadn’t have been for those outside agitators, none of this stuff would’ve ever happened. Right now, if it goes as planned, you will never see one of those tar paper shacks sittin’ on that site up there because they have agreed that it would be too, uh, stressful for white people to come and look at those tar paper shacks.
Oloye Adeyemon: And those tar paper-paper shacks you’re referring to are one of the primary things that—not-not the beginning, obviously, of-of-of this story but one of the things that was the catalyst for the students—
Willie Shepperson: That’s correct.
Oloye Adeyemon: - because they were having to leave the main school building, going outside in all kinds of weather to attend classes in three, uh—I’ve heard you refer to—
Willie Shepperson: And not only w—
Oloye Adeyemon: - this as—you refer to tar paper shacks.
Willie Shepperson: - not only was it to go outside to attend classes, sir, but inside these tar paper shacks you had the—if it was a rainy day, if the clouds looked like this, you better take your umbrella when you leave home. Because when you sittin’ there tryin’ to do your work in class, you had to let that umbrella up so that you could write and the ink that you write wouldn’t run your paper because the water would be drippin’ down on top of this building. The roof leaked.
Oloye Adeyemon: So, there is—there are those that would like to see those tar paper shacks back there so that the story can be commemorated and people can see what it was that people who were—one of the things that was a symbol of-of—
Willie Shepperson: Every student who attended Robert Russa Moton High School at that time would like to see those tar paper shacks back. All of us would like to see ’em back because that tells the true story.
Oloye Adeyemon: Mm-hmm. What have the students, uh—are-are there s—any of the, uh, students that walked out who were members of the board for the museum, who are members—
Willie Shepperson: There was one. There was one, Reverend Samuel Williams. But he didn’t brownnose the board the way they thought he should, so they wrote a nasty article in the Farmville Herald about him, and he was kicked off the board by the board in the next election.
Oloye Adeyemon: So, how can this be resolved? How can, you know, how can, um, both the-the situation with the board be resolved but also reconcile—and do you have any hope for reconciliation where, you know, the white and black community, together, can move—to heal and to tell the story?
Willie Shepperson: Well, that’s-that rather a c-a compound question there. Lemme-lemme take it one at a time. Can it be resolved? Yes. It can be resolved by having that Robert Russa Moton Incorporated, that board, have it dissolved, eliminated, all of it. Take the school, Robert Russa Moton school, donate it to Longwood College, make it part of Longwood’s campus. Longwood, in turn, would create a course of study from kindergarten through graduate school teaching Brown v. Board of Education and the ramifications of that decision and use that building as one of their classrooms. And you can have people from all over the United States and all over the world coming to study there-study there.
This takes the politics out of it. Right now, it’s a political football. You need to take the politics out of that school. Do I have hope for the future of Prince Edward County? Yes, I do but not in my lifetime.
Oloye Adeyemon: Why?
Willie Shepperson: You need several generations of people to die out. As the younger people come along, you will find that they better—have a better rapport with each other than they did in the time when I came along and better than when my father came along and when his father came along. And after about five or six generations of people who die out, it won’t be perfect, but it’ll be a lot better than it is now. And I think one of the things that taught young black folk more so than at any other time, how by putting their power together, black—young blacks and young whites, putting their power together, how they could affect change. Nothing did it better than the Vietnam War. It taught them how they could—by putting their combined resources together, they could affect change. They changed the government. They stopped the war. And they could do the same thing for racism whenever they decide to do it. That’s the hope. But it’s not gonna happen in your lifetime. It’s not gonna happen in my lifetime.
Oloye Adeyemon: And the resistance to that is [unintelligible 34:42] because of what condition—what is it-what is it exactly that you see preventing people from looking at the situation and recognizing—I mean, couldn’t that be done sooner if the current generation in power said, “We don’t want another generation to be this way”?
Willie Shepperson: I don’t think so. You see, because I-I have to talk about this from my perspective. He, meaning the white community, has taught me not to trust him. And there’s only so far I’m going out there with him ’cause I don’t trust him. Because every time that I did trust him in the past, I got shafted. So, now, there needs to be another generation that can have a little more trust in him than I got. And—
Oloye Adeyemon: Mm. So, you’re saying it’s not just on the white side, that there are many blacks that would find it difficult as well.
Willie Shepperson: Oh, hell, yeah. Extremely difficult. I think you would—in this town, right here, I think there are more whites in this town who would be perfectly willing to say, “Okay, let’s forgive and forget,” and seriously mean it than there are black folks that’s gonna say, “Let’s forgive and forget.” ’Cause I’ll be damned if I’m gonna forgive and forget. It ain’t gonna happen. Now, if that makes me a racist, so be it. But I ain’t gonna forgive, and I ain’t gonna forget nothin’. Now—
Oloye Adeyemon: But your children aren’t gonna feel as strongly about it as you do.
Willie Shepperson: They won’t feel as strongly about it as I do. As a matter of fact, my daughter is married to a white man. So, that shows you the change from the children’s standpoint. But for me, there is no way in hell I’m gonna forgive and forget. Now, that doesn’t mean that I won’t work with them, that I won’t do everything I can within reason to try to help and try to affect change. But the least little thing that you do, it may be inadvertently, but the least little thing you do, it’s gonna be right back in my mind. Hey, this sucker is comin’ at me again. And everything we just did just went down the tubes as far as I’m concerned. We gotta go back to square one.
Now, this doesn’t make sense to anybody who hasn’t lived through what we lived through. You see, if you haven’t lived through it, then it doesn’t make any sense to you. So, why-why the-why the hell would they walk around and carry that kind of stuff inside of ’em all these years? We’re talkin’ 51 years after the fact. Why would they have all this stuff inside ’em?
Oloye Adeyemon: You’re still angry.
Willie Shepperson: Still angry. I am still angry today. I’m gonna be angry until the day I die. Now, you took the privilege of running your goddamn truck over my foot. And I ought to have the right to say, “Ow,” in any way I want. Do we wanna get into all this now?
Oloye Adeyemon: [Unintelligible 37:33]. I mean, do you—
Willie Shepperson: When-when—what—
Oloye Adeyemon: - wanna get into it? I mean, I, uh—
Willie Shepperson: Well, see, rather than making history—
Oloye Adeyemon: - I think that—uh, we don’t want—I don’t—
Willie Shepperson: Rather than making history now, I’m getting angry. See, let’s—
Oloye Adeyemon: Well, let’s not get angry. But at the same time, I think that it’s important to record the fact that there’s anger. Maybe not to have you say words out of anger, but I think that if people don’t understand that—and I-and I wish that some of those who still support segregation would’ve spoken, not in support of the segregation or not to encourage people to be angry but to encourage people to understand why, in 50 years, there may—if—should there not be progress in 50 years, then people will be able to look back and say, “Well, it was legislated, but there’s obviously gonna have to be other kinds of work done that has”—and-and-and-and when I’m talking at that point [unintelligible 38:36], we’re talkin’ about human rights, you know, addressing the fundamental issues that not just divide people and their opinion but that restrict people or-or cause people not to have, um, opportunities.
So, I guess what I’m saying is, no, I don’t want you to get angry [laughter] and say things out of anger. But I do feel that we would be negligent in our job if you did not provide a voice for those that are angry for the record. There are people here that are angry, and it’s not that they’re in opposition to what needs to happen, but that, you know, they are affected by that just as there are those who, you know—I mean, you can, yourself, say, you know, segregation is wrong, but I think it would be a much, um, fuller account if people were able to admit today, “Yes, I was segregation then-segregation then. I’m still-still supportive, and I’m never going to full accept this.” And they might be saying the same kinds of things that you are. I’ll work with people for the betterment of the community, but I’ll never agree, you know, that segregation is not the best [crosstalk 39:57].
Willie Shepperson: Yeah. Lemme give you an-an example.
Oloye Adeyemon: ’Cause I think we were doing—we’re—we-we-we have to communicate in a way that it can be constructive. But I think your point of view is important.
Willie Shepperson: Lemme give you an example of now. We have some of the smartest people, I think, in the world, whether it be academia or otherwise, very smart. But they have been placed into slots in Prince Edward County. You’re only gonna go so far ’cause these white folks are only gonna let you go so far. You will never be able to attain, in our lifetime, a black female professor who is quite qualified over here, at Longwood College, as a person of Longwood College. It ain’t gonna happen.
Oloye Adeyemon: Mm. Lemme back up. When you say “these whites,” are there—is there a specific segment of the white community, or are you generalizing in—you-you believe it’s all whites?
Willie Shepperson: Just as I believe that all black folk have some of this hate and resentment inside of them that I’m talking about, that they choose not to express because it doesn’t do any good to express it—and I don't know that it does me any good to express it. ’Cause if it did, I’d stop doin’ it a long time ago.
Oloye Adeyemon: [Laughter]
Willie Shepperson: And I’m still doin’ it, so it doesn’t do me any good to express it. There are also some white—
Oloye Adeyemon: Notice you can’t get past it by expressing it is what you’re saying.
Willie Shepperson: That’s right. Can’t get past it by expressing it. And there are also white folks who can’t get past the fact that they lost the battle, the race battle, for the second time. This is the second battle they have lost in-in this-in this county. And—
Oloye Adeyemon: Civil War being the first one.
Willie Shepperson: Civil War being the first one. And they have their monuments to remind them that they lost it. Go down to the-to the methodist church and look on the lawn. Great, big statue of the confederate soldier. They had to remind them. Now, if they had come to grips with it, it seems to me that statue oughta come down.
Oloye Adeyemon: In the same way, if you had come to grips with it, you wouldn’t get angry every time—
Willie Shepperson: That’s right.
Oloye Adeyemon: - you talk about.
Willie Shepperson: That’s right. And I got my right to my anger. And that anybody who don’t like it, I tell ’em, “Don’t listen to it.” I’ll work with you any way I can, but I am not gonna welcome you with open arms and hug you and c—tell you that you’re the greatest thing to come down the turnpike since, uh, turpentine.
Oloye Adeyemon: So, it sounds like you’re saying you do understand why they feel the way they do as well.
Willie Shepperson: Sure, sure. And they have a right to feel that way.
Oloye Adeyemon: Mm-hmm. I understand.
Willie Shepperson: That’s why I said it’s gonna take a certain number of generations, generations who didn’t live through what, together, we have lived through, blacks and whites have lived through. They have not lived through this.
Oloye Adeyemon: Going back to the town and-and the-and the-and the-the ability, I’m assuming that you are saying there have been talented whites and blacks from this county.
Willie Shepperson: Yes.
Oloye Adeyemon: But would you say that this kind of environment would cause them to go elsewhere and—
Willie Shepperson: Yes.
Oloye Adeyemon: - everybody loses?
Willie Shepperson: Yes. And little by little, as they get older, they start coming back to what—for want of a better word, to their roots or to their beginnings. Little by little, they start coming back. Bust most of ’em, in order to really find their place and to realize their value or their contributions that they can make, they have to leave here.
Oloye Adeyemon: ’Cause this kind of environment is not conducive for anyone.
Willie Shepperson: That’s right. They have to leave here first and find out that they have this talent, they have these contributions they can make. Then they can come back here with confidence. Because this town is no gonna give you the confidence. They will kick you in the teeth every time.
Oloye Adeyemon: Hmm.
Willie Shepperson: Proof is in the pudding. When I came back here to organize unions, they put on a-a campaign against unions like you wouldn’t believe. Today, there are no unions in this town. There were some, but they closed it down. Craddock Terry, they closed it down and moved it out. But, um, there are people now who are retiring, working at those same jobs every time. They have no retirement benefits. And they worked right in this town all their lives for minimum wage. And the city fathers will still bring in industry, and the way they get ’em here is to tell them that we have, uh, non-union. That’s a non-union county, meaning you can work ’em for whatever you want.
Oloye Adeyemon: I certainly appreciate you taking all this time. And there are those, when they think of an oral history on Brown, they think about the walkout, which you’ve spoken about. But then they question or wonder, well, why would, you know, there be this discussion of these other topics? But I think that, in fact, the outcome of those events on what we see today and we’ll see tomorrow. And I think as a-as a-as a person from this county concerned about this county, you have, uh, the ability to-to say some things today that, in the future, will-will need to be understood as part of the historical record.
Willie Shepperson: In my closing statement, if we’re closing out now, I need to leave you with this. What did we lose with all of this strife that we had over integration, segregation? What did we lose? The years that those schools were closed and those little minds that we destroyed in those five years, what did we lose? Did we lose a mind that had we not had this stupid stuff goin’ on, this mind today would have found the cure for cancer or maybe the cure for AIDS or had the solution for world peace? What did we lose? What did we lose? We can’t afford this mess anymore.
Oloye Adeyemon: Thank you.
Description
Shepperson details his elementary and high school experiences, the discrimination faced by students of color, Barbara Johns role in the student walk-out, and the aftermath of the Davis v. County School Board case including the five years that the county shut down public schools. Readers will find a detailed and open history from the perspective of a student during the Davis v. County School Board case.
Credit
NPS
Date Created
09/05/2001
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