Greensboro Four's McNeil speaks out

Maj. Gen. Joseph A. McNeil, 67, of Hempstead, was one of four college students in Greensboro, N.C., who on Feb. 1, 1960, started the first sustained sit-ins by young people protesting segregated lunch counters, which ultimately led F.W. Woolworth to end its segregation policy five months later.

The efforts of McNeil and his sit-in partners - Franklin E. McCain, Jibreel Khazan (formerly known as Ezell Blair Jr.) and the late David L. Richmond - were honored earlier this month in a ceremony in Washington, D.C., with one of the Smithsonian Institution's highest honors, the James Smithson Bicentennial Medal. In an interview with Newsday, McNeil spoke about his award and the 50th anniversary of the lunch counter sit-ins.

Gen. McNeil, this is the 50th anniversary month of the first lunch counter sit-in in Greensboro, N.C. When you reflect on the 50 years that have occurred, what stands out in your mind about that event and what it produced?

Probably three things: The first was the principles we embraced and the execution of the sit-ins. Those principles being nonviolence and giving of one's self in a sense of service to a community, putting oneself in harm's way on day-to-day basis. I think those were outstanding principles to live by. The brotherhood we embraced, the diversity of the movement in the early stages.

What I remember probably most of all was the people, the people involved. Folks like James Farmer, John Lewis, Martin King, Jesse Jackson. My three colleagues: Frank McCain, Ezell Blair, David Richmond - I think these folks were outstanding role models and can be emulated today.

And then the other thought that occurs to me are the many sacrifices people made so that we can all live with a sense of human dignity today that did not exist 50 years ago.

You and your colleagues have been recognized many times for the sit-ins. How does the Smithsonian medal, the James Smithson Bicentennial Medal, how does that rank in the honors and the recognition that you have received over the years?

Well, it's obviously very, very high because the medal itself is a national medal, national in terms of scope. It ties us in with a piece of history that's significant. History that had impact, oh several years down the road that none of us never imagined, but a history that in many ways was a cornerstone of other key events down the road: civil rights legislation, equal rights legislation.

You're coming back from a weeklong speaking engagement. Tell us about your speaking engagements, number one, of this month.

Pretty busy and intense schedule. Just left the opening of the civil rights museum in Greensboro, N.C., a huge event with over 2,000 participants for the opening of that museum, which is the only civil rights museum in the state of North Carolina, so it was a big event. The governor and the senators from that state involved. I'm proud of that. Speaking at a college, the University of North Carolina-Wilmington. Smithsonian, I'd been to Boise, Idaho, the American Civil Liberties Union there. So I've been on the road quite a bit this month.

And its all to mark the 50th anniversary. Do you normally travel like that during Black History Month?

Probably not as intense as this 50th. It only comes once, so it was a time to focus.

What are you telling your audiences? What do you want them to take away from the lunch counter sit-ins of 50 years ago?

When I reflect on that, the fact that ordinary people were involved in doing what proved to be extraordinary, in terms of commitment, in giving of self. So I think of that and I think of all the people who made sacrifices, who deferred their education in order to participate in something like a sit-in movement. People who didn't ask "what's in it for me," and I think that's something we ought to never forget. So I'm grateful in many ways; it's a type of spiritual thanksgiving for me to be a part of these events.

Spiritual thanksgiving?

We have so much to be thankful for, as a country. As much evil as exists in the world, I still look to our country as being a problem solver and an extender of democracy and freedom. And if our country is still screwed up in some matters, we have an obligation and a duty to straighten it out. but we're the beneficiary of many sacrifices of others who went ahead of us. I think of the Tuskegee Airman who in no small sense made it possible for me to come along and be an aviator early in my career. And I think of King and all the others who gave their lives so that, again, we can all live with a sense of dignity and freedom. My kids today don't have to face the type of racial discrimination we experienced during the '60s, that type of injustice in public accommodations, schools, theaters, hotels. That's a fight they don't have to fight today.

The Smithsonian Institution has a section of the Woolworth's lunch counter on display, I think four stools. What was it like to see that on display at the National Museum of American History, first of all to see it, that actual section of the counter where you participated in the sit-in, and then for it to be in a national museum?

It causes one to experience a full range of emotions. It causes somebody like me to reflect on the pain and sorrow that we had to go through in the initial stages. But it also creates an emotion that recognizes the triumph, the fact that the human spirit prevailed. That goodness prevailed over evil. And in many ways, it shows what ordinary people can do when we do small things like show respect. We learn to better respect ourselves and to respect others, particularly others who may be different from us.

Go back to that time 50 years ago this month, you talked about the pain and suffering you experienced. Talk about that first day, was it morning, afternoon, when you and the others showed up at that lunch counter. What was it like and the reaction?

It was a dramatic time and it occurred in the afternoon. We finished our classes for the day. And we went to the downtown area of Greensboro. Ordered notebooks, toothpaste. Sat down at the lunch counter and asked to be served apple pie and hot coffee. And we were told they couldn't serve us, they wouldn't serve us. And if we were smart, we'd get up and leave because we're going to cause a lot of trouble and a policeman was going to be coming shortly. And so a policeman did arrive and walked behind us in a threatening manner, but he didn't arrest us that day. We were prepared to be arrested. We explained that we were going to keep coming back until they served us and we'd sit there until they served us. So we sat there until the store closed that day. And upon exiting, a photographer from The Associated Press was there, snapped a picture, shared it with other members of The Associated Press, so the picture went around the world. The next day, there were 16 of us. Other students joined us. Students who were nonviolent, model in decorum and respect, in the way we carried ourselves. And the movement kept growing. We were joined by whites and females and people of various religious backgrounds. It wasn't very long before we occupied every seat in that lunch counter [which had 66 seats]. Our numbers approached a thousand. Other communities started to become involved. High Point, N.C., Raleigh-Durham, Portsmouth, Va., Rock Hill, S.C., Atlanta, Alabama. The sit-ins spread to 15 Southern states and were taking place in about 70 locations, all spontaneous, all for the most part, by young people. And for the most part, nonviolent. All the cities embraced that principle.

And it was months later that the segregation of the lunch counters ended. How was that experience, to know that actions that you and your friends started got results?

Oh, it was good to know that, that you can do something that matters. But lots of people did things that mattered. People here in New York, for example, participated in selective buying at those stores that had segregated facilities in the South. They just refused to buy, and so it hurt these merchants economically. But that was part of the incentive for them to step up and do the right thing, to apply that pressure and keep coming at them until they did that. That was the morally correct thing to do and in our hearts, we knew that we were going to prevail. It was just a question of when. So, in July of 1960, the dime store in Greensboro, N.C., Woolworth's, integrated its facilities. I didn't eat there, or have coffee there until that September, when I returned back to college [what is now North Carolina A&T State University] from summer break. And I found the food to be rather bland and coffee to be marginal at best. I did not go back as a patron very often.

At your speaking engagements, I would imagine there are a lot of young people. How do young people today react to the issue of nonviolence, of behaving nonviolently even when threatened with violence or in the case of some, where violence was actually visited upon civil rights activists in the '60s? Do they shun it or say it wouldn't be possible today?

It's mixed. Obviously being nonviolent is extremely difficult. It was for me. And when you put yourself in somebody else's shoes who had to be nonviolent, often it's overwhelming. Most people can't do that. But we had many courageous people who could. If you could not be nonviolent, then we asked that you serve in other ways. You could prepare picket signs or whatever, but don't put yourself in harms way as we were doing. I think people showed extraordinary strength. Young women who would come back time after time in the face of jeering hostility and actual, from time to time, physical assault with cigarettes and hot coffee, things of that nature. I think they showed extraordinary strength. They're models. When you share that with young people, they understand better what's taken place in the past. What we need to do is keep communicating. I don't think we ought to ever give up on young people and this current generation of young people growing up. That would be a cardinal sin on our part, to create low expectations of them. So we expect the best and keep communicating. I feel comfortable there will be a bright future with them, one day.

Q. This was a five-month sit-in. A policeman was called the first day. What kinds of actions, retaliation was visited upon you during this long sit-in?

The first day, there were several onlookers. They would come in a manner like: "Look at those four colored boys. They've been sittin' there for 20 minutes. Do you imagine they're going to leave? Well, let's come back and check." They would leave and come back later. We were interrupted or stopped by an elderly white woman who spoke to my friend Frank McCain who was sitting with me, and indicated that she was disappointed and he asked her why would she be disappointed with him, she didn't know him after all, and she indicated that she was disappointed because it took us so long to do what we were doing then. And that was a positive sign. That was probably our first visible sign of support from anybody that day . . . But there were all kinds of interactions going on.

Any violence, throwing something at you?

Not on the first day. On succeeding days there were elements of violence. There were assaults outside a McDonald's and in the dime store area there were, from time to time, we'd had assaults.

What kind of assaults, what did that amount to? Was it visited upon you or others seated at the counter?

I think the most that happened to me was I got shoved around. But others experienced physical force from time to time.

Even seated at the counter?

Even seated at the counter. We tried to cooperate with the police and let them know where we were going to be because they were the thin line between all-out violence and nonviolent students, often.

So we'd share with them where we planned to go and what we planned to do.

Was there any concern that the police would behave in the manner that some of the other Southern police officers had toward civil rights marchers?

Every community was different. In the state of North Carolina we had a governor, Terry Sanford, he contrasted rather differently than a George Wallace, governor of Alabama at the time. Different communities acted with civility, others used dogs. Others like in Orangeburg, S.C., it was pretty vicious down there at that time. I think we experienced some loss of life. So it depended on the locale. Some communities were entrenched with bigotry and hatred. Others were less severe.

I have to ask you, 50 years now, we have our first elected black president, yet one year into his presidency there's push-back, no Republican cooperation, the country made progress in the fact of his election, and yet the difficulties he's had since he was elected.

Well, that's a tough job, a tough order of business with the economy being what it is and our global engagements and commitments in places like Afghanistan, there's still a lot of evil in the world that we need to address. I would hope that we support the president because it's crucial to all of us that he succeed.

After college, were you drafted or enlisted in Vietnam War?

I volunteered. At graduation, I was commissioned as a second lieutenant in the Air Force. [He had been in ROTC].

How did your experience as part of the leaders of the sit-in, how did that affect or influence the trajectory of your life?

Most people weren't aware that I had a past that involved being a protester. I never made an effort to hide it, but I never made it a point of sharing, something I had to talk about on a day-to-day basis. I tried to live my life with purpose, whatever purpose I was engaged in at the time and to live it respectfully. I always felt proud of my participation in the sit-ins, but I didn't have a need to wear a blazer or a jacket saying I participated in the sit-ins.

I was just wondering did that participation add to your strength of character?

Oh yeah. I think that very much, it helped in molding my character. Making me understand that you can do things that are difficult, but it might take a little more time. But worthwhile things can be done with persistence. It taught me to value faith, or to have faith in the rightness of your cause and to feel that others will follow and if something happens to you, the effort still will go on. It taught me about giving and not expecting to have something in return. To have a sense of service. So I gained, in terms of character quite a bit from my involvement with the sit-ins, as I imagine many others have done.

I'm reading the citation from the Smithsonian: "Joseph A. McNeil, one of the four courageous and committed students who challenged inequality at the segregated W.F. Woolworth lunch counter in Greensboro. N.C., February 1, 1960, Joseph A. McNeil is an inspiring role model for young Americans nationwide, an example of the power of an individual to make the nation a better place, its demonstration for justice and equality and his lifelong commitment to education, tolerance and understanding have contributed profoundly to the fulfillment of James Smithson's mandate for the "increase and diffusion of knowledge."When they presented it to you, it was read, what were your feelings?

It clearly was a significant form of recognition. I think the four of us accepted the awards for the many thousands of heroes and sheroes, many of the unsung heroes and sheroes whose name you don't read about, we accepted it in the sense that we were symbolic of all of those who served in the past. We appreciated a national institution, like the Smithsonian, understanding what it was we were trying to do, all the years later that still small, seemingly unrelated acts, can make a big difference down through time.