Taking a Load of Coal Up the Hill
In the 1950s when I drove a cab on Saturdays there was little action in the morning around downtown Boston. We got in a cab line early at a big hotel and waited a long time for our first fare. If we were lucky, we drove a businessman to the airport. People were not crowding the streets on their way to work. We all knew that the most action Saturday mornings was in the cab line before a supermarket in Dudley Square. Black ladies had no car, When they exited the supermarket they had two or three bags of food and they needed to take a cab home. The line of cabs there moved fast all morning. We drove the ladies home to a hilly area nearby. They paid us 55 cents and usually gave a dime tip. If you worked there all morning and downtown Boston all afternoon, you were sure to make a day’s pay on Saturdays of around ten dollars.
A friendly cabby advised me about making money driving black ladies home with their shopping bags on Saturday mornings. He was white with a reddish complexion and somewhat fat. I remember the smile that came to his face as he made a racist comment after giving me the profitable advice. It was not a full joyous smile. It was nuanced. It was smug but it had a touch of guilt about it. It was a smile by someone who knew he should not smile but smiled anyway. But before I tell what he said, I have to say that I never judged the man negatively for the racism he expressed. Why? Because I realized that his racism was in me and in all us whites. Some whites judge that they have risen above racism against blacks. I’m sure they would have judged us cabbies as being racist because of ignorance, because we were crass people, because we were failures, because we were not superior like they and we did not realize how cruel racial prejudice is etc. etc.. Something within me prevented me from reacting negatively to what the cabby said. This something within me was racism. Yes, I like blacks. Yes, I graduated from college and learned I should be superior to racism. Yes, I had black friends. But I did not react negatively to what he said. That means there is something in me because I am white, something evil, something that is in all whites, something permanent, something so rooted in our being that we will never get rid of it. “Take a load of coal up the hill,” he said to me with his smile.
Daniel McNeill