I am a native of Jacksonville, Florida, and grew up in the all-white Lakewood/San Jose neighborhoods in the Southside of hhtown. In the 1950s and 1960s, I saw the ugliness of "White Only" signs in the A&P Grocery, Union Terminal Train Station, and the Greyhound Bus Station, to name a few. In May Cohen’s Department store in downtown Jacksonville, the basement had a café/snack bar specifically for black patrons (appropriately or instead inappropriately) named the “Polly Pepper Cafe.” As pathetic as that was, this was life in Jacksonville. At age five or six, I witnessed crosses burning at a Klan rally in a big open field on the corner of Bowden Road and Philips Highway as my family drove home from a day at the beach. I didn’t even know or come in contact with black children until I was a senior in high school and attended high school music activities such as All-City Band and the Jacksonville Youth Orchestra. These honor bands were integrated and included students from both all-black and all-white schools in Jacksonville.
With my not-uncommon upbringing in mind, you can imagine the impact the integration of Samuel W. Wolfson High School had on me. I never had a black friend growing up and had no contact with any black adults except for an older man named Earl, who carried groceries at the A&P in Lakewood Shopping Center. Earl was probably in his mid-fifties and sometimes gave me a piggyback ride to our car while carrying my mother’s groceries. My mother would hand me several dimes to provide Earl with as a tip. Imagine how demeaning that must have been for a hardworking adult black man. Having grown up in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, and educated in integrated public schools, one would think my parents would have been more tolerant than they were. Sadly, I grew up hearing common racial epithets used frequently with no thought whatsoever.
In 1967, Wolfson High School was one of Jacksonville’s largest and newest schools, with over 500 students in our graduating class. Jerome Gamble walked into my homeroom class and took the empty seat next to me. You could have easily heard a pin drop. When he entered the classroom on that first day of the school year, he didn’t say a word, and neither did anyone else. Jerome was there all by himself to integrate the school. He did it singularly. Just him. Why did they send only one young man to integrate i this large school? Jerome Pittman Gamble was the only black student in one of the largest schools in Jacksonville. He was an inspiring kid who had maturity and purpose. Jerome was always well dressed, wearing a white shirt and tie, while the other male students wore button-down oxford cloth shirts. He was a quiet kid with close-cropped hair and a beautiful smile. His purpose was meaningful, and Jerome handled it with poise and determination. He was a leader and an activist who should be recognized for his accomplishments. Jerome graduated with the Wolfson High School Class of 1967. Sadly, Jerome died sometime in the early 1970s. I often think about him, wondering what his life’s work would have been and what other efforts he would have made on behalf of civil rights. His place in our city’s civil rights history is as significant as the brave men and women who integrated local lunch counters and stood their ground against segregation all over town. Jerome didn’t deal with it, just on hot Saturday afternoons. He dealt with it every day that entire school year. This was an admirable accomplishment for a young man. It was especially admirable because he did it all by himself.
