1978. Bladenboro High School. Bladenboro, North Carolina.
As gossip in small towns goes, if you hear it then it must be true. And the rumours of the high school principal being the grand poobah or whatever of the Ku Klux Klan was as rampant as any tiny scandal given it's due.
I had written a play entitle 'Disco 2000'. It was the story of three siblings who lost their parents and ran a small disco. Our school did not have a drama department, and any plays that were produced - and there were rarely any - usually consisted of class projects and acted out in the class room. I thought about seeing schools in television programs that did have a drama department and produced their plays onstage and usually at night so that the entire neighborhood could watch.
I had gotten a few good reviews of my play from various peers. I wanted to produce and direct the play. I wanted to put it up on stage. A few of my classmates told me that I should go for it. I talked to my English teacher who said that she would sponsor my production if I got permission from the principal, Mr. Allan. Like any normal producer/director, I went about casting the play before any important preliminaries were taken. I had a black and white cast and made notes on who to hire as a crew. I told everyone that was thus far involved that we would finance the play ourselves and everyone agreed.
I was excited. My friends were excited. My mother was proud.
A few days later, I had yet to get an appointment with Mr. Allan. I was too busy in pre-pre-production. Suddenly, all of the white kids started to drop out of the production. I was given no other reason than they just didn't want to. Yet I stood stern. I would get my play produced and on that stage. This was just a temporary setback.
I had finally gotten my appointment with Mr. Allan. I went into his office and asked for permission to use the school's stage to produce a play for the community. He told me that I would need a teacher as a sponsor. I told him that Mrs. Jones said that she would sponsor when he gave me permission.
Mr. Allan leaned back in his seat, never taking his eyes off of me. Then he told me that he would only give me permission if I had a white and black cast. I told him that I did have a black and white cast but that the white kids started to drop out so I re-cast with my other classmates.
"If you don't have any white kids in your play then I can't give you permission to use the school stage," he said.
I left Mr. Allan's office having just been slapped harder than any physical attack against me. My production was dead. Mrs. Jones told me that she was sorry. My cast was pissed and whispered the rumour that I had so often heard and felt was more than true.
My play fell into a box in my parents' attic.
I would run into another obstacle when I felt that our school needed a newspaper. The biology teacher said that she would be glad to sponsor. But that too grinded to a hard and painful halt, as no one really wanted to participate in organizing and publishing a school newspaper.
Thinking about this has open up a box of memories of me going after what I wanted - and needed - to begin a life in the arts and broadcasting. I presented my art teacher with a suggestion of our class taking a couple of semesters to work on a play or some kind of production. She did not take my suggestion until my senior year of high school when there was no Art IV...and I had completed Art III the previous year.
The county newspaper was looking for high school students to take photos of school events. My aunt had just given me an old 35 mm camera and I had graduated from pocket camera. A 10th grader whose father ran advertisements in the paper got the job. I applied for a part-time job at WBLA, Bladen County's radio station. I got a callback. The sales department wanted a high school kid to intern. I was excited. He said he would keep in touch. In a meeting with my guidance counselor I mentioned the phone call from WBLA. She advised me to bug him about the job. I visited the station. The guy in the sales department yanked me into his office and told me that the job was top secret and that I shouldn't have come there. Needless to say, he did not call me back. I tried to get on the yearbook staff, but those positions were usually reserved for the smartest and most popular kids in school.
I don't know why I felt the need to include the story of the newspaper and the radio station in this entry. I guess I needed this to flow a bit more so that I can get all first roadblocks out of my system.
Back to the rumour if Mr. Allan was head of the Ku Klux Klan: I don't give a shit anymore. He's dead and I got my ambition back.
As gossip in small towns goes, if you hear it then it must be true. And the rumours of the high school principal being the grand poobah or whatever of the Ku Klux Klan was as rampant as any tiny scandal given it's due.
I had written a play entitle 'Disco 2000'. It was the story of three siblings who lost their parents and ran a small disco. Our school did not have a drama department, and any plays that were produced - and there were rarely any - usually consisted of class projects and acted out in the class room. I thought about seeing schools in television programs that did have a drama department and produced their plays onstage and usually at night so that the entire neighborhood could watch.
I had gotten a few good reviews of my play from various peers. I wanted to produce and direct the play. I wanted to put it up on stage. A few of my classmates told me that I should go for it. I talked to my English teacher who said that she would sponsor my production if I got permission from the principal, Mr. Allan. Like any normal producer/director, I went about casting the play before any important preliminaries were taken. I had a black and white cast and made notes on who to hire as a crew. I told everyone that was thus far involved that we would finance the play ourselves and everyone agreed.
I was excited. My friends were excited. My mother was proud.
A few days later, I had yet to get an appointment with Mr. Allan. I was too busy in pre-pre-production. Suddenly, all of the white kids started to drop out of the production. I was given no other reason than they just didn't want to. Yet I stood stern. I would get my play produced and on that stage. This was just a temporary setback.
I had finally gotten my appointment with Mr. Allan. I went into his office and asked for permission to use the school's stage to produce a play for the community. He told me that I would need a teacher as a sponsor. I told him that Mrs. Jones said that she would sponsor when he gave me permission.
Mr. Allan leaned back in his seat, never taking his eyes off of me. Then he told me that he would only give me permission if I had a white and black cast. I told him that I did have a black and white cast but that the white kids started to drop out so I re-cast with my other classmates.
"If you don't have any white kids in your play then I can't give you permission to use the school stage," he said.
I left Mr. Allan's office having just been slapped harder than any physical attack against me. My production was dead. Mrs. Jones told me that she was sorry. My cast was pissed and whispered the rumour that I had so often heard and felt was more than true.
My play fell into a box in my parents' attic.
I would run into another obstacle when I felt that our school needed a newspaper. The biology teacher said that she would be glad to sponsor. But that too grinded to a hard and painful halt, as no one really wanted to participate in organizing and publishing a school newspaper.
Thinking about this has open up a box of memories of me going after what I wanted - and needed - to begin a life in the arts and broadcasting. I presented my art teacher with a suggestion of our class taking a couple of semesters to work on a play or some kind of production. She did not take my suggestion until my senior year of high school when there was no Art IV...and I had completed Art III the previous year.
The county newspaper was looking for high school students to take photos of school events. My aunt had just given me an old 35 mm camera and I had graduated from pocket camera. A 10th grader whose father ran advertisements in the paper got the job. I applied for a part-time job at WBLA, Bladen County's radio station. I got a callback. The sales department wanted a high school kid to intern. I was excited. He said he would keep in touch. In a meeting with my guidance counselor I mentioned the phone call from WBLA. She advised me to bug him about the job. I visited the station. The guy in the sales department yanked me into his office and told me that the job was top secret and that I shouldn't have come there. Needless to say, he did not call me back. I tried to get on the yearbook staff, but those positions were usually reserved for the smartest and most popular kids in school.
I don't know why I felt the need to include the story of the newspaper and the radio station in this entry. I guess I needed this to flow a bit more so that I can get all first roadblocks out of my system.
Back to the rumour if Mr. Allan was head of the Ku Klux Klan: I don't give a shit anymore. He's dead and I got my ambition back.
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