Oral History Interview with Anna Beason

MAXINE RAY: This is Maxine Ray, I’m conducting an interview for the Civil Rights Project, sponsored by the Kentucky Oral History Commission of the state of Kentucky, the Historical Society. I am interviewing Mrs. Anna Beason, at her home here in Bowling Green. Today’s date is March the 20th, 2001, and our subject this night is the Civil Rights movement. Oh, Mrs. Beason, would you give me your full name please?

ANNA BEASON: My name is Anna Laura Beason, my maiden name is Whitlock. I was born October the 10th, 1947, to Mamie Etline Green Whitlock and Charles Wesley Whitlock, Senior, in Henderson County, Kentucky.

RAY: Where, ah, how long have you lived in Bowling Green?

BEASON: Ah, I guess about forty-one years.

RAY: Mm-hmm. And where did you attend school?

BEASON: Ah, as a child growing up, I attended the--before integration--at Abbot Street Elementary school, in Henderson, Kentucky. And after integration--after the first year of integration--I attended the Seventh Street School, which was only a block away from our house. And I went back after that--I guess after fifty-eight--I went back to Abbot Street School; and I, from the seventh and eighth grade there; and after that I moved here to Bowling Green, Kentucky.

RAY: Okay.

BEASON: And attended, um, ah, Warren County High School then. And from there—well, I started out at High Street High School; and then from there to Warren County High School, which is now called Warren Central High School.

RAY: What’s your occupation now?

BEASON: I’m an assembler for General Motors Corvette Plant.

RAY: Now, back to the schools that you attended. Can you remember any kind of incidents or anything that happened to you because of your race or because of segregation?

BEASON: During integration, or, you know, during the year of 1958 I was in the twelfth grade. Uh, at that point I went to a predominantly white school which was Seventh Street, a block away from our house. And I can remember, uh, a lot of things that went on. A lot of times the teachers were, . . . would, wouldn’t give me the grade that I deserved, and, I would have problems with the students at the time. Even after going to Seventh Street I decided to go back to the all-colored school then, which was Abbot street, in the seventh grade. And I would have problems riding the city bus.

RAY: Hmm. What kind of problems did you have there?

BEASON: Well, when I’d get on the bus, which was only a few children on there, I would, wouldn’t have a seat, because these children would tell me they were saving the seat. And, sometimes they would be saving the seat for their friends, and a lot of times the seat would be empty,

RAY: Mm-hmm.

BEASON: . . . from the time I got on till the time I got off, which was maybe six or seven miles, the south end of, ah, Henderson.

RAY: Now the children that were saving the seats for these white kids …

BEASON: They were all white kids. I was really the only, at that time the only colored child on that, on that bus.

RAY: Well, did the--how did your--how were the parents at home? How were they talking to the children then, and what were the things they were saying to them? Going to school and integrating, through the, did you get any kind of specific instructions on how to act, or what to do?

BEASON: Well, um, you know, coming up as a child, my dad always told us, you know, never pick a fight with anybody,

RAY: Mm-hmm.

BEASON: But. . . ah, you always stick up for yourself. So, I mean we--even if we--if we were fighting, we’d get another one when we got home if we didn’t fight back. But, uh, we were always taught never to pick a fight, never to pick on anybody, but always stick up for yourself.

RAY: Well, now, how did you--did you--did you ever get a seat on the bus, eventually?

BEASON: Yes, after the, um, right after the third day, I was determined I was going to sit down. So what I would do--because I knew a lot of times some of these, these white children, would be--they wouldn’t be saving a seat for anybody. They just didn’t want me sitting by them. So I decided one day--I was determined I was going to get me a seat. And I would--when the bus would be stopped--I would pretend to be falling and step on their feet and kick them. So the next day that I got on that bus--from that day on--I had me a seat on the bus.

RAY: Oh, okay. Can you think of any other incidents that happened to you in Henderson, or. . .

BEASON: Well, when I was going to Seventh Street School, I had to fight a lot. I mean, you know, we fought a lot--for the fact that you had something--you know, you have some nice children you, ah--you go to school with; but then some who are just so, so, so unruly and just mean and prejudiced. I mean, prejudiced even to the teachers--for the teachers. And that’s why I did, uh--my mom decided after that first year at Seventh Street that I could go back to the former school, which was Abbot Street. Until, uh, I moved here--after eighth grade I moved here. Even to here I had problems.

RAY: Oh, you did. Well let me ask you this: did, uh, were the churches or anything involved in the Civil Rights? You know, like, did--were there any kind of meetings going on at the church, or maybe to instruct children on how to act and what to do or what not to do, or was there anything. . . ?

BEASON: In Henderson, you know--of course, ah, you know, during the Civil Rights movement in Henderson--and integration was, I know, five years before in Henderson than it was here in Bowling Green. So, moving to Bowling Green was like stepping back in time five years. Uh, but in Henderson I may have been too small to remember anything that went on pertaining to the Civil Rights movement. I only knew that, uh, you know, my mother, you know, always pushed the issue of voting. You know, she always worked at the polls. And, uh, she always pushed that issue of voting; but as far as, ah, any kinds of meetings, you know, I was probably too small, you know. Back then, parents would talk but they wouldn’t, you know, you couldn’t get into the conversation. So I really don’t know what went on.

RAY: Do--ah, well, okay--after you got to Bowling Green and you said you had, uh, problems. Were they different, or was it the same kinds of problems in the schools, were the teachers more receptive to you here?

BEASON: Okay, in the schools, I can remember being in the tenth grade at Warren—then it was called Warren County High School, which is Warren Central now—(doorbell rings, tape clicks) Then when I went to Warren Central--which now is called Warren Central--back then it was Warren County High School. I had a teacher who called a few of us together--and two or three of us in our, in our geography class--asked us what did--what did we--she want, us to--what would we want her to call us? Uh, Negra, colored, or just what? And I can remember telling her to call me Anna Whitlock, ‘cause that was my name.

RAY: Oh, dear.

BEASON: Uh, and I can remember an incident in, ah, I don’t—not familiar if it was a science class--but ah, I was supposed to get an A. I was supposed to get an A. Uh, I made--it was on our test--I was supposed to have gotten an A. When I got my test paper--my report card--I got a B. Because the other girl got an A, but when I got my grade, and they gave me hers; and they wanted her to have straight A’s. To keep her off the honor role--keep her on the honor role--or keep her with her straight A’s..

RAY: Oh.

BEASON: And I do remember that.

RAY: Did your mother or a parent, say anyone put up an, ah, argument about it, or did they go up to the school to see about that?

BEASON: No, at the time, you know, my mother was so busy working; it’s not like today, you know. She was so busy working, that, uh, she really just didn’t even take time out to do that; but she, you know, I was always a little hurt because she knew I studied when I was in school.

RAY: Uh, did you have any particular or any--(Phone rings. Tape clicks) Did you have any, ah, special Civil Rights heroes or any Civil Rights leaders, local or national?

BEASON: National. I guess I would have to say Rosa Parks. Because I feel like she really fought for equal rights; and that right was, that we paid the same amount of money to ride the bus, to have a right to sit where we wanted to sit on the bus. And it brings me to think about myself when I was coming up as a child. How we got on the bus--I had no idea I couldn’t sit at the front of the bus. But I would go with my aunt, there just downtown to shop, and I would always run to the front of the bus; and she would always tell me to come back here. I had no idea that I couldn’t sit at the front of the bus, until I got older, till I understand. So I would have to say Rosa Parks.

RAY: Ah, now, did you, um, remember any other kind of sitting-ins or anything that happened to you, or …?

BEASON: I remember one time I think it was, like in sixty-one. ‘Course, integration had already begun, um, in, in my hometown, in Henderson. So we had, had the right to go to the front of the restaurants, to order what we wanted to. Well, I remember this incident, um, two of my girlfriends. Well, we were from the county, we went to school at High Street but we lived in the county. And I didn’t know any better, they didn’t know any better, because they, ah, lived in the country. They didn’t know that they couldn’t--we couldn’t go into the local drugstore downtown and sit down and drink a coke. It had something to do with, during homecoming, we wanted to get some material to make a float. Well, after we got our material, we decided we’d stop at the drugstore and get us something--a coke to drink. And we went in and had a seat. Well, we had no idea we had to go to the fountain and get our drink and go out. Well we were sitting at the table--well it took forever for them to wait on us; and I just remember at the time the waitress going to the manager asking, “Do you want me to wait on them?” The manager’s answer, ah, was, “You may as well.” So after we sat there for a while--we didn’t--we didn’t have no idea we were staging a sit-in. So after we, sat there and drank half our coke, we decided we’d been away from school long enough and we needed to get back. So I remember my mother telling me about the slight sit-in, that was at one of the local drug stores, which was at the time, I think, was Pearson’s drug store. And I had told her, she had no idea her daughter was involved in that sit-in. But that’s something that I’ve always wanted to do. Be a part of a sit-in. And I guess I got my wish.

RAY: Uh, do you belong to any, or did you belong to any, uh, Civil Rights organizations, or any kind of organizations?

BEASON: Yes, I, I belong to the NAACP, the Warren County, Bowling Green/Warren County chapter. I’ve been a member, I guess, since 19—ah, sixty-seven or something like that. And I have really enjoyed it and have worked faithfully with, ah, with the chapter. And I--it’s for equality, equal rights. And anything for equal rights, I don’t mind getting involved in.

RAY: Can you remember any particular cases or anything that you all handled during your time in the, organization?

BEASON: Um. . . not, not really. Uh, well, I know it’s a lot of things that, that happened. And I, I remember that, I know that the NAACP would do a lot of things, a lot of times, for nonmembers. When it came to equality, ah, equal rights. But, um, we weren’t, you know, in the—now especially with everything that happened, that had to go downtown it was always kept quiet.

RAY: I’m going to—um, if I’m not asking something that you want to tell about, that you want to tell me, that I’m forgetting …

BEASON: Well, I—I can’t, can’t remember, uh--I remember an incident that happened at, in, when I was going to Warren County school in my, in my history class. I had this, this, ah, history teacher, at the time he was a basketball coach at Warren Central--Warren County then. And ah, I had a problem with a few of the male students. Because I was the only colored child in that class--or, in that history class at that particular time. And I would always have trouble with this one student; he had already gotten pulled out of one class. But, it just so happened that this, this history teacher--ah, I went to him because I was having problems and—and I never was afraid, to stand up for what I thought was right. I didn’t care if I was the only, only colored child in that class, I wasn’t going to let, allow anybody to run over me. I was just, that type of person, I’d just been reared that way. So, before I, uh, would, you know, get into a real problem, I decided I’d tell the history teacher. And he did have this one particular boy put out of history class. For good.

RAY: Well, I want to thank you for your interview, ma’am.

BEASON: Well, Maxine, I really appreciate you coming by, and I, it has given me a chance to get some of these things off my chest.

RAY: Well, thank you.

BEASON: And I’ve enjoyed the--you know I can look back now and see the things—you see the children are coming up now don’t realize what we went through. And the fight that we, you know the things what we put up, for them. Uh, my children don’t realize it, because they didn’t have to go through what we went through. They didn’t have to fight, we had to, we had to sometimes fight our way through, I mean literally fight. Even as a child, I had to fight, just to go to school everyday. Things have changed, but then they can be better, too.

RAY: Well, thank you again.

BEASON: You’re welcome.

END OF INTERVIEW