My employee story that remembers Vic Scott.
Racism, Racial inequality, racist bigot, he is racist, they are racist, systemic racism. John, would you say you are racist? No… not if they know my history, Probably depends who you ask.
Brief history,
Lived on West side of Evansville and do not remember seeing many Negroes around us
1960-1975
Went to a Catholic highschool and there were 3 African Americans in our school.
A girl named (Maria Gilbert ) Vic Scott was a year ahead of me and excelled at Football and Basketball, and Willy Gilbert l. It was years later that it hit me what it must have been like to be the only 3 students in the school of 500. 1974-1978
Noticed more football players then wrestlers who were black but did notice that those black wrestlers were very good with one during my years becoming a state champion who the odds were against him when you compared black to white wrestlers.
African Americans seemed to be the name of etiquette during my college years at USI as I became involved with more fellow students who were from all walks of life and different nationalities.
Our Basketball team was nationally ranked in division two,with my tall friend John Holliden who stood 7’6 ½ was one of the teams that saw us going to many of the games and for the first time I finally was able to spend time with more people of color then ever before. Many years later in the summer of 2023 I was honored to host the entire USI basketball team at my property. Primarily due to meeting some of the players the year before at a fundraiser where I enjoyed the company of the Players and then met the coach Stan Gerarld who had in fact been an all American at USI near the end of my senior years. 1979-1983.
Evansville, like many cities, had an inner city that had many neighborhoods of black and white residence
Harlem 1971
.. I vividly remember as an eleven year old riding in a boy scout bus through Harlem New York. Our Scout master was so adamant that we see what America was truly like, so in 1971 with the help of a couple local men I saw for the first time what a large Black population looks like in one of the largest cities in the world. For nearly 2 hours as we looked outside the windows, the 2 gentlemen explained the history of Harlem. The areas of interest and the very sad conditions that we were witnessing. See, Bert Miller , our Scoutmaster who had fought in the Battle of the Bulge came back to America to become a Parole officer. Upon seeing what happens when young men do not make good decisions, or get caught up in the wrong crowd , it became his life’s goal to try to become a positive influence with young men to set them on the right track. And part of his plan was for us to see the country outside of Evansville.
The ten days In New York for a guy who had never really been outside of this Hooser city remembers, the Statue of liberty,Coney Island, ChinaTown,Skid row (never seen a drunk guy before that comes out of a bar turns right walks 20 ft and goes back into another bar as he steps over the passed out person on the sidewalk),, 42nd street.
(first time this Catholic boy had seen a braless hooker, make that many braless hookers, and the Johns they were screaming at),.Empire state building with amazingly fast elevators,the subway system, Time Square, a few museums, and much more.
But Harlem in 1971, that was what I really remembered the most. The stairs outside the building with what looked like countless children of all ages, sitting there watching our bus slowly roll by, I waved a few times from my window as some would wave back. Some were smiling but some were not. I didn’t feel I was in the country, maybe not even on the same planet.
Wow Bert, now I realize why I admire you so much. You have shown me what I probably would never have seen had you not brought us here. As we left this part of the city, I saw Bert give our temporary guides,storytellers, men of this place who were willing to accept the challenge to ride on two buses with all white scouts, a little something for their efforts.. How did Bert know to ask them? This was a man who never lacked confidence.(see the greatest American I have ever met),from another town knowing that their answer could go in a variety of ways. But throughout the years I did notice that a scout uniform did give you a special pass.. As he handed them some cash and they shook hands,Some of us realized that we were so incredibly lucky with where we lived and the conditions we could never imagine. Then as well as today, A 2 hour ride does not ever begin to know what their lives were like. But maybe just a glimpse of what this world and its people are put through and how incredibly amazing many still find a way to come out of that and become great leaders,and parents and teachers, Americans
In my adult years when I would watch and read about people like Oprah Winfrey, Denzel Washinton, Dr Martin Luther King,Malcolm X, Reverend Larry Roscoe, Mercury Morris, Paul Warfield, local singer Gina Moore, Dr Ben Carson, TuPac, wrestling referee and insurance salesman. James Shannan , even Bill Cosby, Sammy Davis Junior, Jamie Fox, Chris Rock and our mayor ….Stepanie Terry, the list goes on.. I sometimes think back to that day and remember how these kids on the steps who prospered and led their way to stardom and fulfillment, I ask myself and wonder if I had been given that same beginning would I have ever made it?
I had recently reread a book we were asked to read in highschool that helped me understand a glimpse of what it was like to grow up in America in the 20th century.black.person. To truly see from a white man’s perspective.. “Black like Me” by,John Howard Griffin in 1961,,,,,,,,
The story of a white American journalist who wanted to get a taste of what it was like to live in the south during the 50-60s injecting himself with a formula that turned his skin black, while shaving his head . He first went through the state’s white. Then returned back to those same areas meeting the same people as a black man. He witnessed first hand the difference. It was very short lived since the pigmentation of his skin did not stay that long. But reading the book gave me a sense that there are many white people who do struggle with what Our African American brother’s went through for so many years. But truly we will never know the pain they felt as a caucasian just as I can not understand what Our Chinese Americans, or our Jewish Americans or Islamic Americans faced daily in this great country. But they must know that every individual has their own story to tell. And no one should ever be lumped into one set Race or people. After WW2 I know My father struggled with telling people about his German descent. How Hitler did not make it good to be German.relatives.
John Howard Griffin was definitely treated very differently depending on his color Again it does not begin to tell the whole story but it gives some insight.
In a very different way but similar in how one was treated. I was able to test a theory of how working class people are treated differently just depending on the clothes we wear.( tell story of winter of 23-24 from gray to red, Deaconess department uniform vs nicer dress)..
Remember in the award winning series, ROOTS………. The story of Kunta Kenta. Was another depiction of the racial battles this still young country has endured.
IS THE TERM RACIST TO EASY OF A WAY OUT?
When I started my Landscaping business in 1983 I must admit there were not many black employees that came my way on the west side. But one in particular definitely stands out. That story in a bit.
Along with the wonderful friend and Reverend, Laryy Rascoe, that I did get to meet because we had perfect timing of me wishing to sell a house and his church needing a parking lot. This is one of my best relationships with this wonderful man who I have shared many thoughts with. Once As I was telling him about my admiration of Martin Luther King,, he reminded me that not every black thought he was the best spokesman for his race. That there were others who many Blacks felt had a better pulse on his people. And that I understood.
When I visit the Nazarene Baptist Church on those rare Sundays( my weekly obligations at Resurrection, My Catholic church) I am fulfilled by the energy of the people in that church, the great singers and band members, and the way they give their own approval Of Larry’s sermon.
But what of the Employee I had a short while to work with at My company.. It was during the summer in the 2010-12 season. He heard about us through a friend and with his physical strength and smart mind and common sense he became one of our key workers doing landscape installations. He had worked for us for a number of months and I had several conversations with him. He was unmarried, but talked about his girlfriend often.
During this time of year we were working long hours sometimes 6 days a week. Our nursery was open on Sundays but our installation crews were not needed in retail.
But he had become such a responsible person, he was one of our truck drivers to the job sites. Not all of our workers had their license so those who did If they were responsible were our drivers. On some occasions on the weekend he would ask if he could drive my trucks to do some extra work.. I agreed due to my sharing attitude, If I could help an employee out by letting them use my equipment when we were not using it. All the better… within limits. As I have mentioned before The employees I respected the most were those who after learning the trade went out on their own to start their own business.
These were the confident men and women who knew the way to become independent was to become their own Boss. I loved it. And tried to help when I could.
So he had needed the truck , a large pickup, for the weekend. I was proud of him to not be afraid to work hard for what he wanted. ( Yes I know there are many of you out there that have been burnt doing this because something negative happened. Sorry for your loss.) Yes I keep my attorney awake at night knowing someday I may be burnt also.. But it’s not the burn part that scares them. It’s hearing me admit to them well finally, You were right. But after 63 years I.m just hoping the burn is a first or second degree. Thirds really hurt. (Read FEAR)
So as He took the truck I came in on Monday to get the crews ready to go, but our worker and the truck were nowhere to be found. After a couple hours I decided to call (Mike… not his name.) to see where he was. Unfortunately I couldn’t get a hold of him.
So throughout the day I became concerned hoping that everything was alright. AS the secretaries continued to call him, I became so busy with my day I didn’t really think about it.. At the end of the day though with no man or truck I started to process what may be happening. I trusted Milk completely so my concerns were more about his safety. That night I tried calling a couple more times and with no response, I decided I would talk with him in the morning, that is if he was there
Day 2 came and went .No truck, no answer, so later in the afternoon I was able to find his address so I drove out to his house, of which I had not seen before. His vehicle was still on my property and there was no sign of my Truck. So I got out of mine and went to the door to see if there was any way he could be here at home. Knocking several times with no answer, I decided to leave him a note. Again not a threat producing one. But more of concern and hoping all was ok.
It had been 4 days now since I had seen him and as it was becoming dark, I began weighing all the options of what to do. My trust did not waiver, but I also knew this young man was one of character and promise so If I called the police for help,there would be a lot of paperwork involved. If I did not call the police, and something terrible had happened then too I may face a lot of ridicule for not helping him. Again like all of life either way some would scorn, judge, second guess. Welcome to humanity.. So I decided to try to call home once more before I needed to call the authorities.
Surprisingly, this time he answered in a quiet voice. “ Mr Schroeder” , he said,” I am so sorry I have not called you these last couple days, but.Can I talk to you tomorrow, I’m really sorry”. So pleased that he was ok, I told him that would be fine and looked forward to his story. No need to ask him questions now, the important thing was knowing he was ok, and him knowing I was not upset.His well being was paramount. The details didn’t matter but as I told my wife, I like her, and was very curious.
He arrived the next morning to the welcoming of his fellow co workers as they all jokingly laughed and asked where the hell he had been. His smile said it all, that he was glad there was no drama. And as he came into my office. I shook his hand and explained that I was extremely curious. So once again I asked Well Mike, Tell me a story.
After apologizing again he explained that he had gotten into a big fight with some other guys who had disrespected his girlfriend. He did not go into any detail. But that what they did warranted a violent and aggressive action on his part. I could see that he had some swelling over one eye. But I chose to just listen, So anyway I had your truck, but I knew these guys were going to come after me this weekend, so I took it and went to a place I knew they couldn’t find me and just stayed there for a few days, He explained that, his phone had died and that He admitted he didn’t know how I would react to him taking my truck or if I would condemn him for fighting. He said he understood If I was going to fire him. But he really felt like he needed to stay out of sight for a few days.
Interesting story.I thought. And although I was filled with a lot of questions that my head wanted to ask. My Heart resisted the urge. I contemplated this story and felt that was it my place to search for details or was this really a time to create a heartfelt response.
Well Mike, Wow, you have definitely had a rough few days. Is your girlfriend Ok,( not knowing if the abuse was verbal or physical, are you ok?. I hoped you knew me well enough that I would have understood completely if you had called, and maybe I could have helped. I truly wanted to believe this was the truth, but I was not so naive that this could have been a well orchestrated story).
But again in all the time he had worked for me, I felt that he was a good man of character. So I shook his hand again and repeated that I am so glad he was ok. I was sure he would be talking a lot with his coworkers and they would be more comfortable with the hundred questions I could have asked. How many guys were in the fight.Were they hurt?Was your girlfriend there? Where did you hide out? Were the police involved, Why Why Why, Why.
Not my place to judge so let’s reward
But instead how could I make this a learning moment for my staff, how can I take what was something we all thought about, but because Mike was black How did that shape everyones opinion. I did not know how close he was to all my staff, but I did know Justin, my head manager, had nothing but praise for him and his great work ethic.
So I did what John Schroeder usually does. I decided the next day to believe 100% of the story. And if it was all true. Then this man deserved something very positive. So in the morning before the crews all left as we were in our usual circle. I asked Mike If he felt comfortable telling everyone the story he could tell. As he did, it matched perfectly as I had heard. I thanked him for sharing and then told everyone that if they were ever in a similar situation. And you did as he did. Just please let me know so I do not do something rash. ( I thought through if I had called the police what that would have turned out to be.)
And then in his honor I gave him a good raise. I told the group, this is what good men do and this is what he deserves. And as everyone applauded. And he hugged me. My mind felt the twinge of gratitude and it was definitely the right thing. Truth or not, It was not my place to judge
But where does this story end? Is again an example of where our nation is frustrated with the Racial issues, or the Racist ideology we deal with every day.. About a month later I was sitting in my office. And Mike knocks on my door.” Mr Schroeder, I just want to let you know that I will not be working here anymore. I’m going to move on”. Taken by complete surprise I asked him to sit down, he didn’t want to ,” So Mike where are you going did you get another job. Is anything wrong? I asked No, it’s just I feel like some of the guys are kind of racist, and I don’t feel comfortable working here anymore. MY mind went into immediate question mode. Who and What did they say to you/, When did this happen/, But he really didn’t want to talk about it. Look, I’m the only Black guy working here right now and I don’t want to get anyone in trouble.” So thanks for all you have done and I’ll just pick up my last check next week..
We shook hands and as he turned I told him If I could ever be of help in the future to let me know. After he left I got Justin on the phone and inquired about what he knew about any Racial issues on the Job site, what he had witnessed, what he heard, and who may have been the culprit. Justin said he was as surprised as I was, and he did not ever hear him complain, or witness a situation where he may have been discriminated against. Why did he ask, after you gave him the praise and the raise? that he would feel that way.
Again my mind began to analyze what had occurred and what this meant to understanding this interesting RACE RELATION. If I asked 20 people what would they think? He was discriminated against because you only gave the raise to him.. He wanted to leave and used the race card, he didn’t like one of the workers. He was not telling the truth about the truck. He was getting a different job, He was going to do his own business. He..HE…He. But to me the only correct answer is his. And will we ever meet again someday that we will know. But wondering what if. What if he had the courage to tell me what he was thinking is what I am still thinking.today.
A good friend who I discussed a podcast with made a statement to me,”John. We have lived in a bubble. As west side catholics we are not always aware of what’s out there”.
And until 5 years ago, other than my connections with the college student, the USI basketball team, the people in the church of reverend Roscoe, the people in the neighborhood, who rented my houses. , The relationships of black friends who I have seen In my scout troop, along with a number of clients.. For a large part, it was true. The bubble was something that did exist most of my life.. That was until I found a place called Midtown. An area of my city where I found myself in 2017. For 5 years or more I finally witnessed what our black community was like every day, where many, many, co-workers of this amazing hospital and large health facility worked every day to save and help the lives of thousands of people . I was finally given a chance to drive around an area of the city where I used to bring my family when I felt they were not appreciative of just how good we have it on a piece of land that many would love to have.
Living in a bubble
5 years at MIdtown…. A place my Lord and Savior sent me on a whim that has opened my eyes everyday to see our varied community with a position in the hospital where I had the luxury of riding around 18 full blocks of this part of our town to maintain and wonder.. So at the age of 58 I now for hours each day, whether in a John Deere or Kawasaki or Kubota I see, the houses, the back yards, the people who are living day to day, with little hope of ever having what I sometimes take for granted. where the normal means of transportation, if not a car, is a bike or a scooter or simply a grocery cart to push their belongings from one homeless shelter, or apartment or rental house in dire condition.. Midtown. A place for the homeless that they will pass by the doctors parking lot with a look and expression of what, IF. WHERE RAMBLING PEOPLE WALK DOWN THE SIDEWALK WITH MENTAL DISEASES THAT i’m never really sure if I should begin a conversation or keep my distance. Only once in the 5 years have one of the locals thrown a metal object at me while she was having a delusional attack and I must have upset her with my riding mower. Midtown… where just recently a very large fence was finally installed around this hospital( that began in 1858), because the employees had experienced some robberies and crime was becoming more evident so the fence was constructed. Now every day I encounter what I have been seeing on CNN and Fox only now I am 5 feet away from it. Where My years of psychology studies are an arm’s reach away from the mentally challenged who may just need a few dollars, or a cigarette or only a light. Maybe asking for directions, when I know they prefer more of which I began handing out free meal tickets to the local subway, but in reality they prefer the money instead because what they want to buy is a fix, or a drink or a …? .My time here I thought was to be a sabbatical of my life before I headed into a direction I had planned for 30 years, but now That I have seen the faces of God on a daily basis that look into my eyes and I in theirs, both of us wondering what the other is thinking.
This is Midtown. Evansville Indiana. A place just 7 minutes from where I grew up and currently live that I have driven through 1000 times in my life, but only now am I close enough and drive or walk slow enough to better understand what true humanity of a different upbringing is all about. Carla, Vinncet, mr bojangles, Wilfredo the artist, Debbie with the red hair running screaming through the streets wanting me to take her in my gator to the other side of the hospital , only to get to the other side and want to be back with the guy she just left, Billy the man with no legs who could barely push his wheelchair down the sidewalk but insisted, he did not need help, Susan , the lady with 6 boys, the oldest who can never look up who will always get a $5 or a 20 if I have it the tall 90% blind man since birth, who my coworker says he is faking who had lost his cane a number of times then ran over by the car slowly passing him Midtown Hospital, where the recent free machine was set up to distribute Narcan for the fentanyl crisis
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And Why oh Lord was this 18 block area the place you felt I needed to see? You knew Like those who go to Haiti and never return as the same people that my witness to this
Small part of my world I had never imagined, would daily see the eyes of you. Was this your opportunity like Mother Teresa, that my mission of where I thought I was going was the wrong direction?
I have known for a long time what you wanted me to do with my talents. But now I believe I understand where you want my help if my talents produce the assets we can collect. And on this I will dwell.
John 316-3:17mgc. .
(TIC viking day, come but don’t burn down my house that is racist, don’t say that. Another story for another day.. Race Relations to be cont.). .
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