THE DAY WE HOPE FOR
When we can live in peace and harmony with one another—[irrespective] of race, color, creed, former servitude or present in life, without mythical tolerance but in a spirit of Good Will, assured in the conviction of our better judgment that we will remit to every man the inalienable rights to the admonition of his own conscience in whatever line of endeavor he pursues for his religious or material existence.
When that day arrives we will be contented.
THEN, we all can boast of our CIVILIZATION, and not until then.[1]
--- L. Christopher Bates, founder, Arkansas State Press, May 9, 1941
[1] This passage was printed every week on page 4 of the paper.
How does a historian present Fred Allsopp? A visionary or a villain? He was both; certainly, I am a
benefactor of his positive visions and his negative racism actions. Yet, I bear his memory no ill will. I would be a
total hypocrite if I did. I lived at the top of Cedar Hill Road for ten years where a cross was burned by the KKK.
I was welcomed and attended Pulaski Heights Baptist church for three years. At the present time, I live in West
Little Rock. I get into nice automobile daily, travel east out of my neighborhood, using Cantrell Road or Interstate
630. Then I travel west, back to my home where I live a very comfortable live. However, I also think of the families
displaced by his vision of a park for middle-class white children and expensive river-front property built for
increased tax receipts. Should I feel guilty for enjoying the comforts of my twenty-first century life that I know
was built on the hardscrabble life of others? I’ve the argument with before. A Caucasian UA Little Rock history
professor (who happened to be the son of a LR banking V.P. and therefore had a financially-stable childhood in a
nice home) told me, in a shocked tone during a lively exchange regarding race in front of the whole class, I was
the “whitest person he had ever met.” I thanked him on behalf of my ancestors who dreamed, fought, and died
so that I, my children, and my grandchildren may sit in a classroom of higher education, look him in his eye, and
answer him back. I was not offended; on the contrary, I was amused at his annoyance with me. I let him know
that if being “white” meant living the dream, than I guess I’m “white” and I was not ashamed to admit it in front of
the whole world.
As a historian, in the end, I have been trained to follow the documents. The professors at the UA Little Rock
history department taught me that emotions cannot guide nor dictate my conclusions. However, as I wrote this
thesis, I was reminded over and over again that I am an American. My Creek grandfather, my father, two of my
brothers, my husband, and my two sons served their country so that I curtsy to neither king nor queen. I am able
to define myself in the twenty-first century and I live in the greatest democracy ever created on earth. Yes, we are
a great dysfunctional family who argue daily, sometimes minute by minute. Yet, I love my country. When I study
history, and I fully understand the sacrifices made by those who came before me, those of every color, race,
ethnicity, and religion, I am astounded by their vision. I am the descendant of Africans brought to a
strange land on the bottom of a slave ship, sold like animals on a block, and forced into servitude for generations.
I am the descendant of a slave owner who raped by great-great-grandmother who, by the age of fifteen, had
three of his children. I am the descendant of a Creek grandfather born at Fort Gibson, Oklahoma who never had
a birth certificate yet fought in WWI. Two thirds of my ancestors were not welcomed by the Statue of Liberty.
Hitherto, let it be known, that wherever I go, wherever I may end up, I am that human that so many want
to be: an unapologetic, proud, free American. And that will never change.
Nancy Tell-Hall, August 16, 2019