This was revealed to me a few years ago on my morning walks. And years later it is still my belief of why our country is still so divided on this topic. A realization that will never be 100% resolved but it may help explain the ongoing frustrations. Race relations vs Racism and racist ideology. One I feel can work towards better understanding and help in moving forward. The other only regurgitates the issue with no real plan to understand why after over 160 years after the Civil war We as a nation still get confused. Some feel we have come so far, while others totally disagree.
Part one.
Imagine one day you enter a room, alone, a room with nothing more than 3 chairs and the door closes behind you. You see that there are two men sitting on the other chairs facing you. As these two men are having a very positive conversation, you now realize you are in the presence of 2 amazing American heroes who have both paid the ultimate price for their country and their people. As they are talking about the history of our country you soon become aware that you are in the presence of President Abraham Lincoln and Dr Martin Luther King. Hardly believing your eyes you listen as these two men who lived nearly 100 years apart are discussing how far our country has come, from where they had remembered it. They have seen a nation now that has moved so far in race relation compared to where they saw us during their lifetime. You listen to them tell their stories. You pinch yourself thinking this must be a dream, but you do not wake up. You realize by your chair there is a clipboard and pen, as you look at the paper on the clipboard you see a question. It reads.
If you could ask these two men any questions. What would they be?
You have one hour.
Imagine… Here you are with 2 of the most remarkable men In our nation’s history and you and you alone have the honor of questioning these legends, anything your heart desires. What would be our questions?
During this period of time both Abe and Dr King are very engaging, respectful and willing to tell you anything your mind can imagine.
What do you ask? Knowing that only the three of you will know your questions. This is your own private interview.
After about an hour you hear a knock on the door, and as it opens you now see another man in a long robe, long hair, and a face that brings you great peace. As you look at his hands and bare feet you can see the marks of a day gone by. He gratefully acknowledges you and apologies that he must end the meeting. Turning to the two race relation improvers he tells them this. “Gentleman, we need to get you back up to heaven. We are about to start our big poker game tonight, and already Jonah and Noah are at it again with each other. Arguing on who saw the bigger whale, back in the day.”
As all three ascend from the room. You suddenly awake and next to you are your interview questions with all the answers by your side. Was this just a dream? And if you had more time, what else would you have asked.
Part 2. 1974
At the age of 16, I began my highschool journey in the year 1974 at Mater Dei. A West side Catholic school with about 500 students in all four grades. A school where my mother was the first graduating class in 1950.
MD was one of 2 Catholic high schools in Evansville that had survived a near closing about 5 years earlier when it was determined that our Diocese could only support 2 Catholic highschools. Memorial, the first Catholic school in Evansville was definitely to continue, but Rex Mundi and MaterDei were going through a tough decision on which would remain open. One noteworthy Rex Mundi grad by the name of Bob Griese, a future Miami dolphin quarterback. Played for the School which was located on the Northside of our city, but it was determined by the powers that be it was Mater Dei that would be the place that many west side German Catholics would call home. And where the Idea of race relations would plant a seed into the mind of,… ah well…… me.
See, at this time in our school’s history we had only three black students who attended Mater Dei. a brother and sister Willy Gilbert And his younger sister (Maria). Willy was a Junior, and helped as an equipment manager of our football and wrestling team. and a year ahead of me was Victor, we called him Vic Scott. And it is Vic who gave me the inspiration to try to tackle this dilemma of Race Relations. Vic allowed me to see a side of this country in a profound way that will counter the first story you see above.
I got to know Vic the best because he and I both played football for the wildcats. But our winter sport was one where he kept our fans cheering at the basketball games while I followed my love of wrestling, partly because I was not meant to be anywhere near a basketball for a lot of painfully obvious reasons. It was during our football seasons where I spent the most time in his presence. It wasn’t like we were best of friends, most classmates did not venture out to the class below them, unless of course the older guys were checking out the younger girls to date. Then that was ok. But most classmates stayed within their own Freshman sophomore Jr and Sr. positions. But when I did get the opportunity to converse with Vic, it was always cordial and pleasant. Victor was an offensive receiver, fast, strong, and very good hands. I was a linebacker who liked the art of tackling, Taking down the guy with the ball, sometiming rushing, and yes sometimes not always guarding the guys coming out of the back field and catching the ball right in front of me. YIKES.
Football was the team sport that we enjoyed tremendously, when we won it was a team effort , when we lost we were able to share our disappointments together that made it a little easier.
I wondered what it must have felt like for Vic and the Gilberts to go to a school where they made up 0.6 % of our entire enrollment. No black teachers, a half a dozen nuns, 4 -5 priests and the rest white male and female instructors. They always appeared to fit right in, with all the extra curricular activities, but it still made me wonder what that must have felt like. If I were in a similar situation and I was just 0.6% of the population.
Years later I had the opportunity to get that feeling.
As my Landscaping company was growing, one of the ways I diversified to keep my employees busy all year long was to buy residential properties, renovate them, and then rent them out. This was a nice 2 month fill in, in the winter time. And one of the houses I purchased was directly across from the Nazarene Baptist church on Walnut Ave. a large house that could accommodate large families, and I noticed on Sundays that this church was growing, and the population of a very lively organization was mostly black.
A number of years later after renting this house, to a variety of tenets, I realized that rental property was not my forte. And my tenets were the kind of people who kept me entertained, but if I had to do it all over again I think I would have been a flipper. And It was so Ironic that one day when I had finally decided to get out of the rental business. I was met on the sidewalk by a gentleman who would become a very good friend and wise man. Pastor Larry Rascoe. Pastor Rascoe was a name that many people knew in the community for his inspiring sermons and his undying work in helping the community. His church was always packed and he founded many philanthropic Ideas to help all he could. Like a match made from heaven on the exact week I had decided to possibly sell this house, Larry was in need of additional parking for his over growing church. As we just randomly met that day he Asked me. “ John, have you ever considered possibly selling this house?,” which was followed by, “Larry” I chuckled, “Have you EVER CONSIDERED Wanting to buy this house”. A quick handshake and a fair price later. This man now had a parking lot and I had found a new friend.
I decided I wanted to see this man in action so I went to a couple of his services, and sitting in the pew as one of the only white participants, I decided I would share with my three sons what I have still found myself wondering many years after graduation from my Alma Mater (Dei)
I told my three boys that on this particular Sunday we as a family was going to attend the Nazarene church and that they would enjoy hearing Larry Rascoe give a lively sermon. I did not prepare them as to how they would be the minority in the church although Tammy was well aware of what I was trying to teach our sons that day. As we sat in the pews and I observed my boys realizing they were one of the only white people, it became obvious that they were not feeling as comfortable as I was. To add more attention to the moment Larry during mass even recognized us to the congregation as the man who had sold this property to the church where many of the parishioners now parked. Now with all eyes on our small family, I could see my sons struggling with the attention and the fact that we kind of stuck out like a bit of white rice in a whole array of dark, very energetic and happy people. Exactly what I wanted my sons to experience. Their ages were around 14,12 and 4. And after introducing my wife and sons to Larry, it was now time to drive home and discuss what this lesson was all about.
“So guys, what did you think of Pastor Larry and the mass today? Wasn’t that fun?. “Dad, why did we have to go there today? I did not feel very comfortable, we were the only white people there that I could see.” My older son announced . Yes, why did we not go to Resurrection like we normally do. Why did we have to go there? People were looking at us.” My middle son interjected.
So boys, we were there for about an hour and a half. And you felt strange. Now imagine if you went to a school 8 hours a day for four years and you were the only white student at that school. How would that make you feel? What would you think about having to go there? Could you do that? Silence….. What was dad thinking, surely he would never make us do that.
So now I was able to tell them the story of Vic Scott, and I continued, though, only on rare occasions, of what I felt was God giving me a piece of understanding of what this Race relations was all about. But it only got more clear.
I began to imagine what it would feel like If I had lived a totally different life.
So now we have to talk about the Scheller family.
Our Scheller family. My mother was a Scheller. And it just so happened she and my grandparents Leo and Lucina along with my Aunt Margie and my four uncles Joe Bob Don and Richard and a whole host of cousins were quite the outgoing family who enjoyed life to the fullest. We found ourselves on many occasions getting together at our grandparents home for many FAMILY FRIENDLY parties . Very often on the weekends we found ourselves, with 23 cousins spending the day scampering around this large yard that was right next to the other Scheller clan. My grandfather’s brother Frank. Our get-togethers on these particular summer Saturdays were as common and frequent that would sometimes involve a little work, but mostly a lot of eating, working in the large vegetable gardens, playing with my grandfathers rabbits that he raised for money and food, and definitely watching the Notre Dame football game.
At the age of 4 and 5 myself and my cousins got to go inside the house and sit on the living room floor to cheer on the fighting Irish. These days were so filled with love and laughter. And It was not uncommon for the adults in this family to enjoy the adult beverages of choice. And since my grandfather and his brother had their own small vineyard. A lot of grape wine was also part of the vast array of food, desserts, and a whole lot of humorous conversations that made this large family feel the happiness and comfort, knowing these were some very memorable times. And as the day evolved into nighttime the sharing of the beers and wine would eventually allow for a more robust party. My uncles, who made all of us Scheller boys proud, kept us so entertained with their jokes and stories, and endless games of physical challenges. These were the days where my 10 male cousins and I would get all of our energies and exercise exhausted throughout these long carefree wonder years., As the nights would fall, we would all circle around a fire and hear endless stories of how this family had grown into a fairly large force here on the westside of Evansville.
And eventually, on some very very rare occasions, my now excited, wine induced grandfather would start to talk about his older generations. His father and his grandfather, and how they began this tradition of large get togethers. Although they were never rich in the financial sense they felt extremely wealthy in the biblical sense… ( my grandmother almost became a nun) … the closeness of family and friends.
Yes the Scheller traditions were so rich in family togetherness and joy that as I heard Leo talk about his Father and Grandfather. And I witnessed this huge gathering of laughter and storytelling that almost always stayed positive and happy, I sometimes would imagine, my fellow teammate Vic Scott.
Was Vic ever in this similar situation with his family, and what would their conversions look like as their older relatives began to discuss their Grandfathers grandpa. See I never got to ask the question to Vic personally, we had not seen each other since highschool. But if I did get to ask the questions. What would he be able to share with me if his family got to this point, at their reunions as the grandparents began to share their stories of what they heard from their grandparents around the time when our country was living in the 1840s 50 and 60s
While my grandparents, Grandparents .were forging ahead in a country where they were free to live a life they so desired, we have a pretty good understanding that Vic’s Great great grandparents were most likely not having the same amount of freedom. whereby they could enjoy this country in the same way the Scheller family could.
It was not necessary for me to have that conversation with Vic, I simply had to take that step to think of the thousands of black families who would be experiencing the same family moments when the older relatives began to share the stories of where their families were in the mid 1800s. What freedoms and lack thereof they had to experience. How many times in the evenings of these recent grandparents did the memories become moments of a totally different kind of conversations then the Schellers were having. How many times possibly the women of Victor’s side were even trying to tell the disgruntled men that we did not need to hear again about what they were about to say. “Please, Please they would plead, not this time, can’t we just talk about the good things, the happy memories, let’s not go there for the sake of all of us who are laughing and happy now”
But knowing the way men think and the way we feel when we are treated with such disrespect, I believe in my heart that their evening went very south, very sad , very mad, and yes very different then it had started.
While the Schellers only became happier and ended on a good note as we all wished everyone a good weekend as we parted for home. Vic’s party most likely could have ended with resentment and frustration, which may have had many once again feeling the anxiety and anger. When they encountered the next white person who would never understand why He or she was not feeling the love of just how far this country had come.
Staring into the eyes of a black man, in the store or gas station, he just doesn’t seem to be as happy and content as I am. I must assume he did not come from a party with his relatives as I have. If He did he would be so content with the shape of this country and the times we are living in.
How can we as white people in the greatest country in the history of the world ever be able to feel what they may be feeling?
Try this.
It’s a real leap but humor me for just a moment. What if, just what if it had been the other way around. What if since 1492, or 1776 or during the Gettysburg address this country was Black, and it was the white man who was the slaves? What if the Schellers, were descendants of the slave population, that had to recall the stories of the beatings, the torture , the rapes and deaths of our distant relatives. Can one begin to process how we are now living the nightmares of our people. I know we can also quickly shift the narrative to include our Native Americans and their stories of what had occurred in a similar fashion. But if I was the minority of this great nation, would I be able to forget and move on, could I appreciate just how far this country has come? Maybe, maybe most of the time,… maybe my mind could dwell on the positives of where we are in 2022. maybe .., until our joyful family got together again and the grandfathers began to remember their grandfather.
Race relations in 2025 is not an easy topic. Will it ever be?
And 300 plus million people will all have their own opinion.
But for me personally, If I believe that working on race relations can improve where we are today, that If we want to move the ball down the road better, Than I believe a good place to start is understanding these two stories
If…For an hour, I believe that asking two incredible Americans any questions I see fit and basking in the sunlight of how far we have come and that we all should be proud, but. I do not also process the story of the Scheller family and imagine Vic’s family as well. Then I will never be able to be empathetic of where and why you must understand both.
There will always be 2 sides to this national history and this National dream. So where can I begin to help our people? Black, white, native, mixed.
I have a plan
To be continued.
Please read race relations The man I hired that still found it difficult to work here..