Opinion: 55 years of writing for the Miami Herald has been a great journey

Miami Herald

21 hours ago

On June 16, I quietly celebrated 55 years of writing for the Miami Herald. What a great journey it has been.
Looking back, I marvel at how this Colored girl (that's what we were called back in the day) from Williston, Florida, and Overtown and Liberty City, would one day end up as a writer for one of the most respected newspapers in the country. And I am thankful.
I started my journey with the Herald in 1966 as a file clerk in the library, or the morgue as it was dubbed by reporters. I remember well my first day on the job, when I walked through the giant front doors of that beautiful building that once graced Miami's shoreline with a heart filled with fear and anticipation.
Fear, because I was walking into a world that was until now, forbidden territory for someone who looked like me.
And anticipation, because although I was a bit fearful, I had enough faith to believe that being hired by the Herald made my future a bit brighter.
I had left a job as a housemaid, where I was told that as soon as President Johnson was no longer in the White House, '… things would go back to where they used to be.'
I remember answering, 'That could be true. But if I have to go back to being a maid, at least I can take pride in knowing that when the door of opportunity opened, I walked through, if only for a little while.'
I don't have to tell you how some of my white coworkers didn't want me there. After all, this was only two years after the 1964 Civil Rights Act was passed. Or how on my first day eating in the company's cafeteria, everyone stopped eating when I walked in and sat alone at a table. When I prayed over my food, you could almost hear the silence as I bowed my head. I kept my head down longer than usual while I imagined how curious they must have been, wanting to know if I was praying for them. I was.
After that first day, I brought my lunch and took my break sitting on one of the benches behind the building overlooking the bay. I spent the hour praying and meditating, asking the Lord to show me how to deal with the haters. And there were many.
But there were also people like the late Charles Whited, who started his career as a columnist the same time I became the Herald's first Black in the newsroom. I still can see his wide smile as he walked into the library on my first day there and said, 'Hi. Welcome aboard.'
After a year in the library, I went back to school at Miami-Dade Community College, taking classes at night. At the urging of one of my mentors, the late Fred Shaw, who was the Herald's book editor, I wrote a review of a book by Rev. Leon Sullivan titled, 'Build Brother, Build'. It was the first article I wrote for The Herald. I was still in the library, and nobody in the newsroom even knew I'd written the article. If they did, they didn't let me know.
It was because of the encouragement from Shaw, that I changed my major at M-DCC from education to journalism and got into the late Barbara Garfunkel's class, one of the best moves I had made at the time. Later I learned that it was she who wrote to Larry Jinks, then the managing editor of the paper, a letter, '… I have this mature young Black woman in my class, and she can write …' suggesting that he give me a chance to write for the paper.
Then in 1970, Jinks took Miss Garfunkel's advice and hired me as the paper's first African American female reporter. It was a brave move on his part. I am forever indebted to him.
(Nearly two years prior, in 1967, my childhood friend Thiralee Smith was hired as the first Black reporter. He left a little over a year later because of the blatant racism in the newsroom at the time.)
My first day as a reporter was Tuesday, June 16, 1970. My first assignment as a rookie reporter was to join a team of other reporters covering the 1970 riot, which unbeknownst to me had started the night before.
So, there I was walking into the newsroom at 8 that morning, dressed in my Sunday best, off to be Miss Brenda Starr (those of you who are old enough will remember the comic strip character Brenda Starr, a reporter. That was me on June 16, 1970.
I went to work that morning with no credentials – only Larry Jinks' phone number. I wrote my first story as a reporter that day. It ran on the front page.
Looking back on the past 55 years, a lot of water has passed under the bridge, so to speak. Some of it has been muddy; some of it has been crystal clear with gentle ripples.
I cried a lot. But I laughed even more. On the worst days, I cried all the way to work. But once in the parking lot, I dried my tears, fixed my hair and walked into the office with my head held high and wearing the biggest smile ever. I wasn't going to let the devil know how much I was hurting. Besides, I needed the job.
I don't know where the courage came from, except the Lord. But one day I had enough to ask to be the columnist for the front page of the local section. It was a coveted position; one previously held by Whited, Francis Ward (the first Black columnist) and Joe Oglesby (also Black). Until then, no Black woman (or white woman to my knowledge) had ever held the position.
Heath Meriwether, then managing editor, gave me the OK and introduced me to the community on the op-ed page the following Sunday. It was 1981. It didn't matter that I was the only reporter promoted to the columnist position without a raise. I just wanted to show them that I could do the job.
As a columnist I tried to be a voice for those who had none. But the new job brought with it new challenges. Until now, my fight against racism came mostly from within. Writing the column accompanied by my picture meant that now, I was an open target to the entire community.
So, when I wrote about police brutality, I had Black parents write or call me about their sons being stopped for driving while Black. And White parents called to tell me about their sons being profiled because of their long hair. Once a man who said he was a Black cop called to tell me I was on their 'hit list.' I told him , 'So are you.'
In 55 years, I have lived through racist remarks and schemes from some of my co-workers to try to get me fired. Still, I kept on moving toward the light that spelled 'Equality.'
In the words of Dr, Martin Luther King Jr, I have been to the mountain top, where I was loved and respected by most of my co-workers and editors, and where I was named in 1984 as one of the top women columnists in the country by the now defunct Savvy magazine, a national publication. And where I was nominated by my editor at the time for the Pulitzer Prize. And where, in 1988, I was invited to be the commencement speaker at my alma mater.
Over the years, The Herald became a great part of my life. Working there helped me to grow as a person. I loved being involved in the extracurricular activities of the paper. I have been a presenter, a judge and for three years running, I sang 'The Star Spangle Banner' at the Herald's Silver Knight Awards ceremonies. And I served on the paper's speakers' bureau and was a speaker at schools, colleges, universities and churches throughout the county and state.
Today, at age 87, I am blessed to still be writing for the paper that gave me the opportunity to do what I love – The Miami Herald. I am thankful for the people who were brave enough to give me the chance. I will never forget them. Like I said before, it has been a great journey.