Joe Fournelle,
Stuarts Draft, VA.
Spring 1969. I was a 20-year-old Marine at the Greyhound bus station in Beaufort, SC waiting for transportation to Cherry Point, NC via commercial bus. An “old” (older than me anyway) black man approached me and asked me to find out when the next bus bus for Lobeco was. I indicated the ticket window and said why don’t you ask yourself? He went away. Not till years later did I realize that he didn’t ask for himself because at best be wouldn’t get an answer and who knows what he could face at worst. So much for my “Yankee” youthful naivete. I didn’t have a clue “how things were”.
