Battling Racism -- More than 30 Years Ago

While my newspaper colleagues examine racism inside and outside their profession, I can’t help but think I went through something very similar more than 30 years ago.

I first crossed paths with Jessica Hughes in April 1985 when I called seeking advice about where to host a bachelor party in Philadelphia.  She was a United Press International broadcast sales executive while I was a UPI newspaper sales executive in Dallas.

 

Back then, UPI was a leading competitor to The Associated Press and Reuters, serving hundreds of newspapers, radio and television stations around the world with breaking news reports from its bureaus across the United States and the globe.

 

Later that year, after transferring to Philadelphia, I met Jessica for the first time, face to face.  Prior to our meeting, I pictured an erudite, mainline Philadelphia lady.  

 

She was African American, and it was surprising because UPI did not have many, if any, African Americans in its sales ranks in the 1980s.

 

Jessica was quite graceful and about 12 years my senior. She was also a single mother and caring for her aging mother.

 

A year later, after becoming her boss, we made sales calls together in Pennsylvania and New Jersey, visiting a number of newspapers and television and radio stations. During our trips, she talked about some of her previous experiences, including setting up appointments with people she never met and listening to their racist jokes.

 

She mentioned their surprise – actually the shock across their face – when they met her face to face for the first time.  Never did it occur to them, because of how well-spoken she was, they were talking with an African American.

 

Jessica never said anything. She was far too professional. She went about representing UPI gracefully and professionally.

 

In March 1987, a few months shy of my 25^th birthday, with my new boss, taking him to meet a top-paying client, I told him I was resigning at the end of April to pursue my MBA at Northwestern University.  He inquired who should replace me.  

 

We discussed the likely candidates, and when he asked about Jessica, I said, based on previous conversations with her about my intention to leave, I wasn’t sure she wanted the job.

 

“That’s good,” he replied.  “Because UPI can’t afford to be represented by a black woman in Pennsylvania.”

 

I didn’t react to what he said but thought she already is. In time, she applied for my position, and I enthusiastically endorsed her application.

 

Weeks later, as my time at UPI was coming to an end, Jessica's status was unsettled. She wasn’t sure where she stood with UPI’s senior leaders. Eventually, they hired someone outside of UPI to replace me – another white man.

 

A year later, after moving to Chicago, a former UPI colleague said Jessica was looking for me.  I promptly called her.  She was pursuing a racial discrimination lawsuit against UPI and asked if I would give a deposition. Absolutely, I said.

 

I contacted her attorney and gave one over the phone, specifically mentioning what my former boss said about the reason Jessica couldn’t replace me. The smoking gun, as the cliché goes, was out of the bag.

 

A year later, I took three harassing phone calls from UPI’s attorneys.  Each time, they attempted to get me to recant. During the last call, I said if the case went to trial, my deposition would become my testimony.

 

They soon settled with her.

  

What I learned was how economic discrimination is. There was about a $10,000 salary gap between us. By not even considering her application, UPI was, in effect, keeping her down.

 

As for my actions, I do not consider myself any sort of hero. I did what anyone would do for a highly respected colleague.

 

African Americans have a bona fide complaint about discrimination. Certainly not every white man or woman is a racist, but there are plenty of racists out there, sometimes, I learned more than 30 years ago, in the most surprising places.

 

This article first appeared on News & Tech magazine’s website in July 2020. The magazine has since closed.

Lessons Not Learned

Instead of learning to stay above the fray, the group’s leaders taught them another lesson: How to jump into the muck.

Instead of learning one of life’s hardest lessons – ignoring your detractors – they learned how to present themselves in a display that could be considered passive-aggressive.

Instead of learning another lesson – don’t excite those who are all too ready to do your bidding – they watched two men they’ve never met, and whose characters are entirely questionable, speak for them.

Instead of learning how to handle matters discreetly, this impressionable group learned how to go public.

Instead of turning an opportunity – as gross as it was – into a learning experience that would benefit them well into their future, the Rutgers University woman’s basketball team was failed by its leaders. They taught the ladies how to get even.

The team’s coaches and the school’s administration were presented with an opportunity to prepare their young charges for the other insults and knocks they may receive later in life.

This is not to make light of what Don Imus said about the team. I don’t know if he’s is a racist, but he certainly sounded like one when offered up that gross description about them.

And I can’t help but think that the basketball team, filled with gifted student-athletes, was failed by its leaders, people who will leave a lasting impression on them.

Yes, they were insulted. Imus’ remark was gross, indecent, sophomoric, racist, sexist and absolutely inexcusable. But anyone who’s ever listened to Don Imus knows that’s his schtick. He insults people. So why stoop to his level, even if you don’t mean to?

The next time one of these ladies is insulted, the coach and Rutgers University likely won’t be standing by their side waiting for an apology on their behalf. It’s also likely that the Rev. Jesse Jackson and the Rev. Al Sharpton will have forgotten them.

So the next time they’re insulted, they’ll learn the lesson they should have learned during their collegiate years -- fugeddaboutit. Toughen up, in other words.

It’s one of the hardest lessons to learn. Insults cut to our core. The ladies of the Rutgers basketball team were probably thinking they were doing all the right things in this life, when suddenly, without warning, some jerk – who happened to have a nationally syndicated radio show – deeply offended them with a few choice words.

It’s no surprise that they, their families, their coach and the University felt awful about the insult fired off at these accomplished young ladies. They should have.

But the coach and the University’s administration could have done their young charges a far better service had they quietly taken them aside, without any reporters, and delivered this message: “That’s life – especially in the fishbowl of collegiate athletics.

“There will always be someone willing to insult you. If it happens, ignore it and move on. Don’t dwell it. If you do, your assailant wins.

“Also keep this in mind: If this happens to you, after you leave college, we won’t be there to defend you. Your loved ones won’t be able to help you either. And as far as Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton are concerned, they’ll be off frying bigger fish.

“If you let the insult run off of you like water, there’s a better chance you’ll go through this life at peace with yourself and others. That’s what matters. That’s justice!”

And that would have been the end of it so far as the basketball team was concerned. The coach and the University’s administration would have placed themselves and their team above the fray, showing them how to deal with terrible incidents from unkind people.