Class Note 1970
Issue
September-October 2020
In these turbulent times, we remember this Commencement address, delivered on June 14, 1970, by our classmate Wallace Ford.
“We are gathered here this morning to celebrate what is supposed to be a great day, a day of significance and a day of meaning for all those involved. But what does this day mean for us, the Black students who have survived the Dartmouth College experience?
“This day means that we recognize ourselves as being the result of years of labor and sacrifice, the labor of fathers, the sacrifice of mothers, the encouragement and help from brothers and sisters, the support of friends. What we owe for this labor, this sacrifice, this encouragement, this help, this support, we can never pay back in material terms no matter how hard we try.
“If we are to make the years of labor and sacrifice meaningful, then we must dedicate ourselves to our people. We must dedicate ourselves to Black freedom and Black peace of mind, no matter the obstacles, no matter the barriers, no matter the side alleys that lead to dead ends of frustration and negation.
“When we were first put in chains, our ancestors were surprised; when Reconstruction was found to be a sick white joke, we were surprised; when Marcus Garvey was railroaded to prison, we were surprised; when Emmett Till and Mack Parker were murdered, we were surprised; when Malcolm X, the prince of Blackness, was murdered in cold blood, we were surprised; when Martin Luther King, the prince of peace, was killed, we were still surprised; when Fred Hampton and Mark Clark were killed by the animals that masquerade as Chicago police, we were still surprised; and even last month, when more of our brothers and sisters were shot down in Augusta and Jackson, we were surprised.
“The time has now come for us to believe in ourselves. The time has come to make ourselves free. Our stars of freedom still shine and our saints of righteousness do live. You only have to look around.
“That is what we are about, that is what today means for us. To best sum up our feelings, though, I would like to quote a poem written by brother Herschel Johnson, of this class, as this poem speaks for the souls and spirits of all of us.
For you mothers with dirt-rough hands
For you with backs aching from bending
And flushing and scrubbing
For all you women on transit
You with brown bags under your arms
Bringing home the leavings of white folks
Bringing it to your children
For all you Black mothers and fathers
Who had to live with humility
And yet have had the pride to survive
For you Black mothers and fathers
who raised up
Your men are now with you.
“Thank you and may a beautiful Black peace always be with you.”
—Gary Miller, 7 E Hill Road, Canton, CT 06019; garettmiller@mac.com
“We are gathered here this morning to celebrate what is supposed to be a great day, a day of significance and a day of meaning for all those involved. But what does this day mean for us, the Black students who have survived the Dartmouth College experience?
“This day means that we recognize ourselves as being the result of years of labor and sacrifice, the labor of fathers, the sacrifice of mothers, the encouragement and help from brothers and sisters, the support of friends. What we owe for this labor, this sacrifice, this encouragement, this help, this support, we can never pay back in material terms no matter how hard we try.
“If we are to make the years of labor and sacrifice meaningful, then we must dedicate ourselves to our people. We must dedicate ourselves to Black freedom and Black peace of mind, no matter the obstacles, no matter the barriers, no matter the side alleys that lead to dead ends of frustration and negation.
“When we were first put in chains, our ancestors were surprised; when Reconstruction was found to be a sick white joke, we were surprised; when Marcus Garvey was railroaded to prison, we were surprised; when Emmett Till and Mack Parker were murdered, we were surprised; when Malcolm X, the prince of Blackness, was murdered in cold blood, we were surprised; when Martin Luther King, the prince of peace, was killed, we were still surprised; when Fred Hampton and Mark Clark were killed by the animals that masquerade as Chicago police, we were still surprised; and even last month, when more of our brothers and sisters were shot down in Augusta and Jackson, we were surprised.
“The time has now come for us to believe in ourselves. The time has come to make ourselves free. Our stars of freedom still shine and our saints of righteousness do live. You only have to look around.
“That is what we are about, that is what today means for us. To best sum up our feelings, though, I would like to quote a poem written by brother Herschel Johnson, of this class, as this poem speaks for the souls and spirits of all of us.
For you mothers with dirt-rough hands
For you with backs aching from bending
And flushing and scrubbing
For all you women on transit
You with brown bags under your arms
Bringing home the leavings of white folks
Bringing it to your children
For all you Black mothers and fathers
Who had to live with humility
And yet have had the pride to survive
For you Black mothers and fathers
who raised up
Your men are now with you.
“Thank you and may a beautiful Black peace always be with you.”
—Gary Miller, 7 E Hill Road, Canton, CT 06019; garettmiller@mac.com