SAN DIEGO –
In the spring of 1968, nearly one year after race riots erupted on city streets around the country, The Christian Science Monitor dispatched a team of journalists to assess race relations in America.
Four of the resulting articles focused on San Diego.
While San Diego hadn't experienced the violent outbursts that had shaken so many other communities, the stories described a city beset by the same racial problems as larger, higher-profile urban centers. In one article, journalists described a city where black people were suffering unfair housing practices and widespread job discrimination.
It was against this backdrop that Carrol Waymon, a civil rights leader, teacher and author, rose to prominence. Waymon, then-executive director of San Diego's Citizen's Interracial Committee, led a series of historic City Hall meetings and grass-roots forums around San Diego that would forever change race relations here.
“Carrol Waymon did something on the level of which was not being done anyplace else,” said Vernon Sukumu, who worked for the Urban League at the time and served as one of many speakers at the grass-roots forums.
“We had 200 and sometimes 300 people sitting in a room listening to some angry, angry black people.”
Now retired, Waymon is donating his extensive collection of documents, photos, and more importantly – audiotapes – from these meetings to the San Diego State University library.
The items will become part of the university's special collections and made available to students and the public.
By many accounts, the significance of the tapes in particular stems from the historic period that they capture and the voices, conversations and raw emotions that they reveal. The tapes provide a glimpse into unique gatherings and into rooms filled with a Who's Who of San Diego government and leadership at that time.
“Students today may have very little understanding of the civil rights movement here in San Diego,” said Robert Ray, head of special collections and university archives for SDSU.
“In terms of its value in documenting that period of time, it's very important. This was a three-or four-year period in time where the San Diego community got together and talked a lot and a lot of important people came and a lot of discussion ensued and that's very important to identify and make sure it isn't lost.”
In his small home in southeastern San Diego, Waymon, a retired SDSU professor who founded the black studies program there, has accumulated a wealth of information about the local impact of the civil rights movement.
At last count, he had filled more than 100 boxes with brochures, newspaper articles, posters and more heading to SDSU.
Although 40 years have since passed, Waymon speaks of that time with a clarity and passion that makes it seem like yesterday.
“Instead of rioting and all that crazy mess, my job as director was to say 'Look we have to address this, but we can do it in a different fashion,' ” Waymon said.
“My idea was why not put people in a room and talk. I knew it would be heated and it was going to be tough because we were talking race, but these city dialogues gave us an opportunity to paint a picture of the discrimination.”
First, he organized a string of City Hall meetings, held every other Friday for 27 months, that were attended by leaders from the city's Police Department, school system, judges, council members and the public.
Next came a series of small community forums around the county, called “Design for Understanding,” that were held in living rooms, churches, schools, garages, anywhere people were willing to gather.
Waymon said the combined effect was significant.
“They achieved an understanding of what made black people tick. What made Hispanics tick. White people began to understand the basis for the anger in all the cities, the rioting. The first goal was to have them understand why blacks were angry. Not to approve it, but understand it,” Waymon said.
For some residents, San Diego's idyllic climate and scenery had a way of making the country's struggles seem a world away. Pacific Beach residents Marty and Sherry Bloom initially felt this way after moving from Chicago in 1962. But it wasn't long before they realized perception was not reality.
“This was a time of Martin Luther King Jr. and marches in the South and freedom riders,” Marty Bloom said. “There were a lot of things going on nationally and in some ways it seemed like that was not anything that applied in San Diego because San Diego was so nice and warm and beautiful. But that really wasn't the case. That was just the way it appeared if you were white.”
At several evenings, the Blooms opened their living room to Waymon and his panel of speakers. They invited friends and neighbors to attend. The Blooms, who recall few, if any, black people living or working in Pacific Beach at that time, described themselves as quiet activists who wanted to help make the community aware of what they felt was unjust treatment.
The Blooms taped those meetings and a few weeks ago returned the tapes to Waymon, to be part of his donation.
“These are part of our history. We often lose track of where we've come from,” Marty Bloom said.
For Sukumu, one of the black panelists at those meetings, it was many years before he was able to fully appreciate what was gained from the talks. But today, he, and others say San Diego is a drastically different place and they give much credit to Waymon and those gatherings.
“When I look back, I'm surprised at all the white people that came, because all the white people I had ever met in my life up to that point had been cruel and these were people who wanted to listen to us and our concerns,” Sukumu said. “And we talked about what was important to them and how they saw the world, and how their view was different then ours.”
Waymon, now in his 70s, has watched as one San Diego civil rights leader after another has passed away during the past year. He says four of his peers died recently, people whose names most likely wouldn't be recognized anymore, but their passing has given Waymon new motivation to organize his documents and pass on his knowledge.
He also is working on organizing one last community meeting. This time it will be a reunion for fellow San Diego civil rights leaders.
Waymon is planning a weekend of gatherings and talks, which are tentatively scheduled for late summer, that the public will be welcome to attend.
“I'm going to call it What you should know before we go,' ” said Waymon, who in 2005 was recognized with a proclamation from the state Legislature for his lifetime of achievement and contributions to the city.
Clara Harris, one of those former San Diego civil rights leaders, called Waymon one of her heroes.
“Many young people have no appreciation of the struggle that Carrol Waymon and others went through,” said Harris, a Lemon Grove resident who served as director of the now defunct Heartland Human Rights Agency.
“It was very difficult for anyone of color at that time. While things have improved tremendously, it would be a mistake to forget the struggle that went on.”
Mia Taylor is a freelance writer in San Diego