Blacks, whites eat lunch
Big deal
Woolworth's lunch
counter today. 'Sure,
when you look back, I
guess it does seem
kind of silly. You can't
explain to these young
people today just how
it was then and why
it was the way it was,'
says present manager
Andy Moye.
Staff photo by Dave N
It only takes about two sips from a cup of coffee at the
Woolworth lunch counter before the absurdity of 20 years ago
sinks in.
Andy Moye, the Woolworth manager, realizes this now.
"Sure, when you look back, I guess it does seem kind of
silly. It is hard to explain to young people today just how it
was. They can't visualize or understand why it was the way
it was," he says. Moye has worked for the Woolworth chain for
44 years, not all of them here.
Moye is seated at the counter enjoying a cigarette, surveying the crowd of customers in the old five and dime on South
Elm Street.
White and black waitresses are busy taking orders and delivering blue-plate specials, snatching away empty plates. A
black woman is cooking. Another is operating a cash register.
At the stools along the winding counter, blacks and whites
are eating together. The scene is natural and commonplace —
yet one like it caused an uproar in 1960, focusing international
attention on the city. It created a historic situation that will
be remembered Friday with the honoring of the four black
men who refused to leave the then segregated Woolworth
counter after being denied service.
Paula Leacraft, a young black girl, is enjoying a meal. A
white person is to her left, another to her right.
"I was 3 years old when it happened," she says. "I don't
remember segregation. My brother and parents used to tell me
about it when I was growing up."
JAM 3 1
Blacks, whites eat lunch
Big deal
Woolworth's lunch
counter today. 'Sure,
when you look back, I
guess it does seem
kind of silly. You can't
explain to these young
people today just how
it was then and why
it was the way it was,'
says present manager
Andy Moye.
Staff photo by Dave N
It only takes about two sips from a cup of coffee at the
Woolworth lunch counter before the absurdity of 20 years ago
sinks in.
Andy Moye, the Woolworth manager, realizes this now.
"Sure, when you look back, I guess it does seem kind of
silly. It is hard to explain to young people today just how it
was. They can't visualize or understand why it was the way
it was," he says. Moye has worked for the Woolworth chain for
44 years, not all of them here.
Moye is seated at the counter enjoying a cigarette, surveying the crowd of customers in the old five and dime on South
Elm Street.
White and black waitresses are busy taking orders and delivering blue-plate specials, snatching away empty plates. A
black woman is cooking. Another is operating a cash register.
At the stools along the winding counter, blacks and whites
are eating together. The scene is natural and commonplace —
yet one like it caused an uproar in 1960, focusing international
attention on the city. It created a historic situation that will
be remembered Friday with the honoring of the four black
men who refused to leave the then segregated Woolworth
counter after being denied service.
Paula Leacraft, a young black girl, is enjoying a meal. A
white person is to her left, another to her right.
"I was 3 years old when it happened," she says. "I don't
remember segregation. My brother and parents used to tell me
about it when I was growing up."
JAM 3 1
