I will never forget when one of my co-pilots told me I didn’t understand what it was like to be a black man in America. He was black, a former Air Force pilot, and was the son of parents who were a surgeon and an Ivy League college professor respectively. He had grown up in the exclusive enclave of Upper Montclair, NJ, and was himself a graduate of prestigious Rutgers University.
I looked at him for a moment and said: “And YOU don’t understand what it is like to have been the only child of parents who divorced when I was four years old, who grew up in semi-poverty, with a working mother who was never home, and who lived in rented rooms in other peoples houses, or in a converted garage, and didn’t have a room of his own until he was a senior in high school. You didn’t have to work, starting at age ten, and work your way through school.”
After a moment, he apologized, and said that it was true, he was just caught up in the victim mentality of the times. This was in 1973, eight years after the passing of the “Civil Rights Acts” of 1964-65. “Affirmative Action” was well under way, and African-Americans were being given preference in many areas of our society.