It was early morning in Carlos Paz, Argentina. I was a young Mormon missionary, and had just finished breakfast at an outside restaurant. As I got up and walked over to the newsstand, I saw the morning headline: 34 killed in Los Angeles race riots. I said something like, “What? No way.”
A tall muscular, blond Italian man -a known gangster, hiding out in this tiny tourist town – came up behind me, caught my attention, doubled up his fists, and blurted out, “dirty North Americans.” At that moment I remember thinking, “do I say what’s your problem?” I stopped and thought again, “maybe he thinks I’m German.” After a short stare down, he walked away. That was 1965.
Twenty seven years later in 1992, I was having lunch at the St.James Club, (now called the Sunset Tower) on Sunset Blvd. in West Hollywood, with a friend who had just bought my management consulting firm. (I was selling it because I was preparing to return to South America to live again.)
Suddenly, a waiter runs in and announces we all have to leave because race riots have started and they’re burning down the city. (Remember Rodney King?)
We quickly leave, get into my car and start driving a short distance to the 405 freeway. The only problem was the traffic was so thick we were moving only about twenty feet every ten minutes or so. Meantime the fires were coming closer to us. My friend asked me what we should do if the buildings around us get set on fire. I just sat there, with my hands tightly gripping the steering wheel of my beloved 1985 silver Mercedes, saying to myself, “fool, we get out of the fricking car and run as fast as we can so we don’t get torched.” But I didn’t because he bought my company.
Twenty eight years later in 2020, I’m living in downtown Salt Lake City, Utah in a neighborhood called the Upper Avenues. I’m on my bedroom balcony looking out over the city when I spot protesters all over the city streets. Then I see a cop car set on fire. I go in and turn on the TV, and all over the country, there are protesters, looters, and arsonists creating havoc over the nightmare murder of African American, George Floyd at the hands of a rogue cop. (You know the story.)
It was weird because the protesters this time weren’t all African Americans like the two other ones. There were whites marching in their summer shorts and tee shirts. In fact there are way more white people marching than black people. Thousands upon thousands more. Even thirteen and fourteen year old white as can be skinny teenage girls not having any idea of the past that I know, but getting the feel of a world they’ll be leading in ten years.
What do I think of all this? If the past is a predictor of the future, about every twenty fives years we seem to have race riots. So, I can’t guarantee that won’t happen some time in the 2040’s.
When are we going to get this black white issue right? Maybe never, but we’re getting it ‘righter’. We’ve now gone from all black protesters to a majority of white protesters protesting the death of a black man. I don’t care what you think, that’s a big damn step in the right direction.