A lot of people talk about black history during the month of February, focusing on the interpretation of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King's philosophy, the struggle of African-Americans from slavery to freedom, and the continuing efforts to fight oppression in all its various forms.
In the second decade of the 21st century, the rise of African-Americans to important positions of power has never been more evident. Barack Obama sits in the Oval Office, as David Paterson occupies the Governor's Mansion, while locally, Niagara Falls is represented by state Sen. Antoine Thompson, and Byron Brown is serving his second term as mayor of Buffalo.
Meanwhile, a simmering argument smolders between two groups made up primarily of white people about whether or not black abolitionist Harriet Tubman once caught a glimpse of Niagara Falls as she passed through the region on a train and, if she did, whether that 30-second event is worthy of an expenditure in excess of $40 million to commemorate it with an "interpretive center" and a permanent commission with a budget of $350,000 annually.
But while some talk a great deal about the significance of such things, others quietly go about the business of living black history. Last week, the New York State Association of Black and Puerto Rican Legislators honored Niagara Falls Councilman Bob Anderson in Albany at a reception hosted by Thompson and Buffalo Assemblywoman Crystal Peoples.
That Anderson has been a pioneer in opening up opportunities for African-Americans is beyond dispute. Born in the South Bronx Harlem neighborhood in 1942, he graduated from Morris High School six years behind Gen. Colin Powell. His mother, Thelma, was and is a deeply religious woman, and as a boy Anderson spent more than his share of time at Harlem's famous Mt. Olive Baptist Church.
"We did everything at church," he told the Niagara Falls Reporter. "Go to church at 8 o'clock Sunday morning, didn't come home until after Ed Sullivan was over at 10 o'clock at night. We ate three meals at church. I can still hear them at Mt. Olive, hundreds of people, mostly from the South, singing, and you could hear them in New Jersey or Connecticut. I was just a young kid growing up."
Mt. Olive is one of the oldest churches in New York state and is a focal point of community activity in the rejuvenated Harlem neighborhood today.
"I played basketball there -- there was a full court in the basement -- was on the TV and radio singing in the choir, and even got my job driving a Mister Softee ice cream truck through the church," he said. "There were no social service programs then. You didn't work, you didn't eat."
Anderson went on to put himself through high school with jobs at the New York Public Library, a Jewish delicatessen and Saks Fifth Avenue, learning what he could from each.
After graduation in 1959, he joined the Air Force.
"My mother didn't want me to do it, but there was a place on Tremont Avenue in the Bronx, and we went down there," he said. "It was during the civil rights era, and they told me that, based on the color of my skin, there were only three or four jobs that African-Americans could go into anyway, and that I was lucky they would allow me to serve my country."
The tumultuous 1960s seemed strange for the young man from Harlem, as one historic event followed another in rapid succession.
"Martin Luther King's march on Washington, the JFK assassination, the war in Vietnam. ... I thought, wow, what did I get myself into?" he said.
He spent the next 23 years in the service and learned a number of languages, including German, Philippino and Italian, serving in Europe, Southeast Asia and stateside. As he rose through the ranks, he often found himself the target of racist behavior.
"It was brutal at times," he said. "There was pressure from the job, of course, but a lot of it was the pressure that came from some of the people you worked with."
But Anderson lived with it.
"You learned how to cope. Those were the times, and if you didn't, it would just eat you up inside," he said. "You worked for the president of the United States. There's no union, no strikes, no layoffs. Yes, sir and no, ma'am -- that was the bottom line."
In the mid-1970s, a young congressman named John J. LaFalce was looking into the issue of racial discrimination in the armed services. He found that even well-educated African-Americans were not permitted to hold many skilled jobs, and less-qualified white servicemen were filling those slots instead.
"My background was in computers, and I wrote a four-page letter to Congressman LaFalce. People got wind of this, and I suddenly received orders to ship out to Guam. The congressman intervened on my behalf, and the order was countermanded," he said.
Anderson, who had graduated with honors from the Air Force computer school, was sent instead to Langley, Va., where he became the first African-American to teach computer skills, not only to military personnel, but to other government agencies, such as the FBI and CIA.
"I already had Top Secret clearance, which some of the other instructors did not," he said. "And of course you needed that clearance in order to even deal with some of these people."
He could have taken a civilian job with the government after his military retirement in 1983, but his beautiful wife, Marie, was against the idea. So Anderson moved again -- "for the last time," he said -- to Niagara Falls, where he ended up becoming the superintendent of maintenance with the school district.
In 2002, Anderson ran a successful campaign for City Council, garnering the highest vote total of any candidate in the race. He vowed at the time not to accept any pay for his service, and in the years since has targeted various charitable causes with the $8,000 to $12,000 he receives each year.
"I try to set an example," he said. "I donate everything I make as a Councilman to the churches and the children, so long as they don't beg. I don't like people who beg. I was taught not to beg -- if I lisp a bit, it's because my mother would hit me in the mouth."
While he has been witness to, and often on the front lines of, the considerable progress made by African-Americans over the past 60 years, Anderson said it can often be frustrating.
"I have found that many times, African-Americans -- even in this city -- we are our own worst enemies. When you sit down and start pointing your finger about everyone else is not doing this or that, you have to ask yourself, what are you doing for yourself and as a group," he said. "That's the way that I was brought up.
"Today you see these young girls have six or seven kids out of wedlock, they don't even know who the sperm donors are, the black churches seem to be in some kind of competition with each other, and I wonder, why we aren't singing the same songs about God under one roof? The door is wide open -- it's not locked anymore. Take advantage of the opportunities." Anderson's philosophy may be informed by the life he's led, but the life lessons he learned from his mother and at Mt. Olive Baptist Church are never too far away.
"My mother is 87 years old, and I try and make her proud of me every day. Why did Martin Luther King lose his life ... in vain? I just try to make sure I do my part. You can't do for anyone else -- you can only do for yourself," he said. "Where did time go? God is good."
| Niagara Falls Reporter | www.niagarafallsreporter.com | February 23, 2010 |