Lucky Medicine

Lester W. Thompson

Description

A remarkable, personal glimpse of Black student life at Indiana University in the early 1960s.
 
In 1961, a skinny African American boy from Indianapolis arrived at Indiana University Bloomington determined to become a doctor. For the next three years, Lester Thompson kept a detailed, intimate diary of his journey to graduation. In Lucky Medicine, Lester returns to his long-ago journal and, with honesty, humor, and a healthy dose of rueful self-reflection, shares stories from his college years at Indiana University.
 
Fascinating glimpses emerge of Black Greek life at the time, including the building of the Kappa Alpha Psi fraternity house and the successes, struggles, and social lives of its members. Lester's student years were driven by hard work, but also bustled with fun and drama. He recalls his time studying at the university library, falling in and out of love many times, becoming friends with fellow fraternity brother Booker T. Jones, a truly memorable invitation extended to meet with George Wallace, and an epic, no-holds-barred brawl with limestone cutters at the 24-Hour Grill.
 
Lucky Medicine offers a closeup, unforgettable look at IU student life just before the sweeping social changes of the 1960s, when students of color accounted for less than 2 percent of the Indiana University's student body.

Preface
Part One: Before
1. L.L. Goodman
2. (Dis) Integration
3. My Son Is Going to Be a Doctor
4. A Family Crises Changes the Paradigm
5. My Personal Goal
6. The End of the Dream?
7. Moving On Up, Sort of
8. Schooled
9. Why Am I So Fortunate?
10. A Sixteen-Year-Old Boy's Dream
11. Junior Vaudeville
12. Saying Goodbye and a Glimpse of My Future
Part Two: Year One, 1961-1962
13. Your Mama Doesn't Live Here Anymore
14. Okay, It's Show Time!
15. What's Your Name? Where Are You From?
16. What's a Greek?
17. A Peek at What Lies Ahead
18. The Cleavers or the Bunkers?
19. Ray Charles
20. A New Low
21. Something Really Special
22. I'm Terribly Aware of Her Presence
23. It's My Turn or Is It?
24. What In the World Was That About?
25. Let's Try This Again
26. Be Careful What You Ask For
27. Welcome to the World of the Black Working Class
Part Three: Year Two, 1962-1963
28. Lickety-split
29. Armageddon?
30. The Unanticipated Price of Brotherhood
31. Life As an Active Becomes Real
32. The Elusive 3.0 GPA
33. Here Come the Sammies
34. Joy and Sorrow Interlaced
35. The Horn Sounded and the Walls Came Tumbling Down
36. Second Verse Same as the First?
37. With Power Comes Responsibility
38. The Challenge of the Dream
Part Four: Year Three, 1963-1964
39. If We Cannot Make Our Sun Stand Still, Yet We Will Make Him Run
40. WTF?
41. September 19th
42. The Big Hurt
43. The End of Camelot
44. Hooray! I'm In!
45. The 24 Hour Grill
46. Really?
47. The Storm Becomes a Hurricane
48. The Last Dance
49. Branching Out
50. Little George
51. The Music Man from Memphis
52. Something Completely Different
53. It's All over but the Shouting
Part Five: After
54. Reflections
Epilogue
Acknowledgments

Sujets

• Cultural
• HISTORY
• Histoire
• Universidad de Indiana
• Indianápolis
• Mensajería instantánea
• Indiana University (Bloomington)
• Bloomington
• History of the Americas
• African American
• United States
• Université d'Indiana
• KS
• Black
• Bloomington (Indiana)
• IL
• ND
• IN
• NE
• OH
• MN
• SD
• MO
• MI
• Indianapolis

Informations

• Publié par: Indiana University Press
• Date de parution: 07 février 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9780253065285
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

This book is a publication of
Indiana University Press
Office of Scholarly Publishing
Herman B Wells Library 350
1320 East 10th Street
Bloomington, Indiana 47405 USA
iupress.org
2023 by Lester W. Thompson
All rights reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of the American National Standard for Information Sciences-Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI Z39.48-1992.
Manufactured in the United States of America
First printing 2023
Cataloging information is available from the Library of Congress.
ISBN 978-0-253-06525-4 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-0-253-06526-1 (paperback)
ISBN 978-0-253-06527-8 (e-book)
To my grandchildren: Briana, Scarlett, Noah, Luca, and Lilah
CONTENTS
Preface
Before
1. L.L. Goodman
2. (Dis) Integration
3. My Son Is Going to Be a Doctor
4. Family Crises Change the Paradigm
5. My Personal Goal
6. The End of the Dream?
7. Moving On Up, Sort Of
8. Schooled
9. Why Am I So Fortunate?
10. A Sixteen-Year-Old Boy s Dream
11. Junior Vaudeville
12. Saying Goodbye and a Glimpse of My Future
Year One, 1961-1962
13. Your Mama Doesn t Live Here Anymore
14. Okay, It s Showtime!
15. What s Your Name? Where Are You From?
16. What s a Greek?
17. A Peek at What Lies Ahead
18. The Cleavers or the Bunkers?
19. Ray Charles
20. A New Low
21. Something Really Special
22. I m Terribly Aware of Her Presence
23. It s My Turn-or Is It?
24. What in the World Was That?
25. Let s Try This Again
26. Be Careful What You Ask For
27. Welcome to the World of the Black Working Class
Year Two, 1962-1963
28. Lickety-split
29. Armageddon?
30. The Unanticipated Price of Brotherhood
31. Life as an Active Becomes Real
32. The Elusive 3.0 GPA
33. Here Come the Sammies
34. Joy and Sorrow Interlaced
35. The Horn Sounded and the Walls Came Tumbling Down
36. Second Verse, Same as the First?
37. With Power Comes Responsibility
38. The Challenge of the Dream
Year Three, 1963-1964
39. Though We Cannot Make Our Sun Stand Still, Yet We Will Make Him Run
40. WTF?
41. September 19
42. The Big Hurt
43. The End of Camelot
44. Hooray! I m In!
45. The 24 Hour Grill
46. Really?
47. The Storm Becomes a Hurricane
48. The Last Dance
49. Branching Out
50. Little George
51. The Music Man from Memphis
52. Something Completely Different
53. It s All Over but the Shouting
After
54. Reflections
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Index
PREFACE
SINCE 1619, WHEN THE first ship bringing enslaved Africans arrived in what would become the United States, slavery and its vestiges created a caste system into which their descendants were assigned. The caste determined where you could live, with whom you associated, and what jobs were open to you. In 1943, the year I was born, Jim Crow racism was systemic and firmly entrenched. Obtaining a college degree was deemed one pathway out.
In the first years of the 1960s, I was part of a small group of African American students enrolled at the main campus of Indiana University. Much has been written about the social unrest and activism that arose in the latter half of the decade, but very little has focused on its first half, particularly as it relates to the racial situation at IU. We students of color numbered no more than four hundred of the sixteen thousand or so on the Bloomington main campus at the time. In contrast to most of our home environments, the burden of racism was much less prominent at the university. For us, the first half of the 1960s marked a transition period between the world of Jim Crow from which we came and the turbulence of the second half of the decade, which we would later experience. Greek life was an integral and nuclear component of our social fabric. As I have grown older and view those years through the lens of time, I believe our set of circumstances was, if not unique, unusual and worth recounting in a book. I kept a journal during my undergraduate years so I could recall how I lived them. Though I started writing the memoir six years ago, the energy of the Black Lives Matter movement and the uprisings for social justice triggered after the murder of George Floyd added fervor to my plan to produce a narrative of that time period.
The memoir is also an American coming of age story. Integral to it is the impact two dominant men had on my life. The story highlights the role racism played while I was growing up in segregated Indianapolis, from elementary through high school. It then proceeds to illustrate some of the challenges our small group experienced at the large, almost entirely White university situated in the heart of southern (both culturally as well as geographically) Indiana. The significance of Lucky in the title becomes clear as the story unfolds.
The urgency to complete the book is, in part, a function of my age; I am now seventy-nine years old. I want to finish it before my time runs out. I ve tapped many sources along the way to fill in the gaps in my recollections, including relatives, lifelong friends, and former IU classmates. My editors have guided me in streamlining the text and maintaining its flow and focus. To them and Indiana University Press I am profoundly grateful.

Before
ONE
L.L. GOODMAN
THE DRIVEWAY UP TO Mr. Goodman s home on North Kessler Boulevard was narrow and winding, with a rock wall on each side leaving barely enough room for one car to maneuver. Abundant trees and shrubs partially obscured the house until you reached the top. In front, a circular driveway surrounded a large reflecting pool. In back, there was an even larger swimming pool. The house was old but impressive in style and expansive enough to have a gabled and columned entrance at either end. Time had transformed its once-alabaster walls to a dusky cream and dulled the luster of its red tile roof.
My memory of our visits date to early childhood, when everything seemed oversized. We always entered through the large front door, which may not sound significant, but this was the 1950s. L.L. Goodman was a wealthy Jewish businessman and philanthropist; my father was his Black barber. I recall the awkwardness I felt almost every time we walked in. Hello, Cal! was Mr. Goodman s typical greeting as he extended his hand to my father after opening the large front door. Hello, L.L. was my father s usual response. When Mr. Goodman noticed me, his countenance would soften with a smile as he said, Why, hello, Lester. Mr. Goodman and my father had been born in the same decade and were similar in stature. Both were about five feet, nine inches tall, balding, with glasses and a little paunch. Mr. Goodman stood ramrod straight, a posture that exuded self-confidence. His manner was direct. There was no warmth or fuzziness to his character. When he spoke, his tone was reserved and matter of fact but not uncaring. Most often he wore a collared shirt, sometimes under a sport coat with slacks. By contrast, my dad s posture was slightly stooped. No matter the season or time of day, he always wore a suit and tie. The two had known each other for more than twenty years before I was born. Over that time they had become friends, yet I observed their relationship was not one of equals. In subtle ways, my dad was always slightly deferential. His usual take-charge demeanor was muted.
Once inside, we would walk through the foyer, proceed down a couple of steps and enter the large sunken living room. The atmosphere was one of traditional elegance. I recall scanning the room and thinking, This is really cool! After a few minutes, I would follow the two men into Mr. Goodman s study. On the floor of the wood-paneled room was a life-size tiger-skin rug, its mouth wide open as though it was about to roar. Often I found myself thinking, I wish we had one of those, too.
Mr. Goodman, may I touch it? I asked. He would nod, and I would gently move my hand back and forth over its soft fur. I don t recall giving much thought to what had happened to the tiger to get it there. Once Mr. Goodman settled into his leather desk chair, my dad would stand behind him, place the barber s drape over his chest and shoulders, secure the top edge around his neck, and proceed to cut his hair. Staring at me from two of the walls were the stuffed heads of additional hunting trophies.
Though struck by the grandeur of his home, I never felt comfortable in it. Infused with an aura of old-school wealth, it seemed stiff to me, a bit like Mr. Goodman s personality. Clearly his life was far different from ours. His home was in an exclusive White neighborhood. By contrast, we lived in a five-room third-floor walk-up apartment located not far from the city center in what was labeled Indianapolis s Near North Side. Though we never thought of it as a ghetto, all its residents were Black. This was the complexion of my world. I knew I was only a visitor at Mr. Goodman s, though my dad seemed quite comfortable there. I didn t know why my father periodically brought me along on those visits. It wasn t until years later that I learned how greatly Mr. Goodman would shape my entire future.
To augment income from his shop, which was located in a downtown office building, my father also had a chair in the men s locker room of the Broadmoor Country Club, the only Jewish club in Indianapolis. Mr. Goodman was a prominent member, and I suspect he had a hand in having the shop placed there. Most Sundays my father provided haircuts for the members before or after they hit the links. Some Sundays, when my mother would let me skip Sunday school, my dad would take me along to the club. I remember many occasions when I played outside with the Jewish kids, but o