This is a portion of the chapter on touring America as Snow White. I was 18 when we started and although it was a show for children, I was the one who was educated.
There was one particular performance where Midge revealed herself to be, at heart, a good person. Desegregation was the law of the land, but not everyone in Florida got the message. We were scheduled to do three shows almost every day — two in the morning and one in the late afternoon. On this occasion, our shows were in a large high school auditorium. A combination of two “white” schools and the third performance for a “black” school they were busing in. The first two went off very well. As we were waiting for the third and last show, we could hear angry voices coming from the parking lot. The commotion was growing, and we all went outside to see what was going on. There is no other word than shocking. Angry white parents were blocking busses transporting the black kids. The first bus was being rocked back and forth by these white parents. The kids inside were terrified, and so were we. We stood there helpless, watching what was happening to these small kids, who just wanted to see a show!
The police turned the bus around, and the principal canceled the show. My home in Queens, NY, was not as integrated as folks would like to believe. I had little to do with black classmates but harbored no ill feelings. I could not imagine what goes through one’s mind to fear such small children. Midge disappeared for a short while. We sat in silence, waiting still at the school, a place we wanted to be miles away from. When she returned, she asked us to donate a day without pay to go to the black school, where these kids from the bus attended. We all agreed. We ended up doing two shows at that school as they bused in as many children as possible.
The performance went off very well. The kids loved us and were screaming their hearts out. However, there was a noticeable difference between these children’s reactions and what we were used to. I had a realization that changed my outlook on the race relationship forever. At all the performances in what I will call white schools, the kids would always scream to warn the Prince that the bad Mr. and Mrs. were on the way. At the performances for the black children, it was the opposite. The kids would yell and scream to protect Mr. and Mrs. Bad Guy. They wanted to let them know that the Prince was coming and to watch out. That was their reality; those were the conditions they were growing up around. Authorities, mainly the police, were not to be trusted. They were on their own; they had to protect each other. What they went through on the bus the day before only helped to confirm their beliefs. At nineteen, I could not wrap my mind around this. I could not shake feeling so sad. This would not be the only incident while touring that would shape my political and social outlook on life.