My Turn: A youthful introduction to the civil rights movement

A favorite childhood memory is a 10-day trip to Fort Lauderdale, Florida, with my parents and brothers in August 1963. We didn’t fly out of New York’s former Idlewild Airport, we traveled on the Silver Meteor line of the Pennsylvania Railroad. This meant 25 hours in coach seats, not a compartment or sleeper.

Mom updated our progress down the East Coast. The ride was uncomfortable, and yet an adventure for me.

Late summer was definitely the off season for Florida tourism. Our motel was inexpensive, but the pool refreshing on hot afternoons. A couple of times we had it all to ourselves. A short block away was the ocean, with water so blue and clear. Wading into a 4-foot depth, you could still see the bottom.

My uncle had moved to Fort Lauderdale three years earlier. His family joined us for meals and sightseeing. I recall a day at Hugh Taylor Birch State Park opposite the beach on AIA, and the Sweden House restaurant with an "all you can eat" buffet. We passed by The Elbow Room, Las Olas Boulevard and the Yankee Clipper resort farther south.

One evening we saw "Beach Party," the movie with Frankie Avalon and Annette Funicello, in keeping with the vacation theme.

Sunday was spent at my aunt and uncle’s home. Family members played the piano and sang, and everyone learned to dance the "Hully Gully." At the time, Fort Lauderdale was The Place for college spring break. We had an enjoyable stay in the city made famous by the film "Where the Boys Are."

Departure day came all too soon on Aug. 27th. Now we’d endure another night and long ride on the train.

The next morning we traveled north through the Carolinas and Virginia. At each stop, more and more passengers boarded; it hadn’t been as full on the way down.

Washington, D.C., was one of the larger depots along the route. As we pulled into the station Aug. 28, our coach was filled to capacity. When the doors opened, almost everyone got off. Penn Station was still hours away, but what was happening?

On the evening news in New York we learned exactly what had occurred. It was the March on Washington with the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr.’s "I Have a Dream" speech. More than 200,000 people attended. The news showed actors and celebrities giving support to the cause. Some lent their voices. Marian Anderson sang on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial as she had on Easter Sunday 1939, when she was not permitted to sing at a gathering of the Daughters of the American Revolution because she was Black.

Bob Dylan and Joan Baez sang "We Shall Overcome." Peter, Paul and Mary

performed "If I Had a Hammer," singing about "A hammer of justice and a bell of freedom," and "love between our brothers and sisters all over this land."

I’ve thought the lyrics to be prophetic, too. They "hammered out a warning," and three months later, President John F. Kennedy was assassinated.

I’ll note the passing of Congressman John Lewis last summer at the age of 80 after a battle with cancer. He was the youngest and last living speaker from that day. His body laid in state in the Georgia Capitol and three former presidents spoke at his funeral service.

I’ve often wished we had gotten off the train to take part in the march. But since I was 14 then, I’m content with the knowledge I was in Washington, D.C., on Aug. 28, 1963, if only for the 15-minute stop at Union Station. It was a landmark day for the civil rights movement. For me, it was an awakening, an introduction to the dream and hope for racial equality in America. I’ve lived my life accordingly, long believing we are well past a time to pledge "Liberty and justice for all" without conviction.

The historical linking to my first Florida visit is one reason I’m able to easily recall a special family vacation.

Joe Bonelli,

Oakdale