This is the summer of 1989. I was seated on a waiting bench at Pogue's Blue Canyon Restaurant in Richmond, Virginia. It was always impressed on me to be on time when trying to get a job. I was on time; my interviewer was not. I considered this my first blessing as it gave me a few minutes to compose myself, after all this was my first interview for a real job since graduating from College. I didn't count my part-time college jobs at McDonald's and Burger King Restaurants. (Jennifer was reflecting back as she read her personal diary).

As I looked around this beautiful restaurant I wondered how it got its name. The restaurant sat on a hillside with only one small sign at the entrance of the road leading off route 84. It had the words Blue Canyon with an arrow pointing up the road. After winding around the small roadway leading to the front of the restaurant located on the backside of the hill, I could immediately see I was the only one who didn't know about this place. The large parking lot was practically filled with cars, a number of which were Mercedes, Jaguars, and BMW's. I meticulously parked my 1980 Ford Fairlane next to a maroon Mercedes and walked in. I was greeted and welcomed to the restaurant by a well-dressed middle-aged White man. I was asked if I had a reservation. I stated I was waiting for a Mr. George Corbin. He smiled as if he knew Mr. Corbin and stated I could sit on the bench or go inside and take a table. I opted to go inside and sit at a table.

As I sat waiting I casually glanced at the menu. Ordinarily you can get a pretty good idea of the quality of a restaurant by the cost of the food, the makeup and style of the menu, and of course the ambiance of the building itself. I was impressed in all aspects. When I saw the price of a simple Chicken Salad at eight dollars I knew I was walking in "high grass" (A southern term used to speak of something expensive). Each table had a white tablecloth draped meticulously around it with a flower centerpiece consisting of two red roses. The silverware was wrapped in a white cloth napkin with a brocaded emblem of an English Knight, as if to say (Fit for a King). This would certainly be a nice place to rendezvous especially if a man was trying to impress a lady, or on the down low. (Low public visibility). The building was divided into three sections. In the first section as you walked in there was a quaint little bar area made of brown mahogany colored wood resembling oak. The well-placed wall mirrors made the area look much larger than it really was. Right next to that was an open area with well-spaced tables that allowed for private conversations. Immediately adjacent to that section was a large Patio Area overlooking a small two level Lilly covered pond with water meticulously forming a small waterfall that never stopped flowing reminiscent of an unending stream. The entire motif of the restaurant was connected to Sailboats, and Canyons. Beautiful pictures of sandy beaches, the Grand Canyon, and boats hang on the walls throughout the spacious restaurant. In addition, there were several large pictures of different parts of the Grand Canyon encased in wood sculptured frames with blue borders tastefully blended in as a reminder of the Restaurants name.

It didn't take long for me to notice the couple sitting near the Patio entrance. The gentleman was White but of a darker hew, maybe Italian, looking to be in his late fifties. He was well dressed in a gray pinstripe suit with a light gray shirt and a tri-color tie with red, black, and gray mixed in. His mixed gray beard was neatly trimmed and accented his face. It was apparent he was a man of means. She was much younger appearing to be in her late twenties. Her hair was cut short, blonde, and neatly styled. The two piece brown suit she wore with matching four inch heels seemed to be molded around her curvaceous body. It could have easily been an innocent business meeting as I was about to encounter, or a little monkey business. "Oh well I thought, it's not my business."

Many things had changed over the years in Virginia as it relates to race relations, mostly for the good. Colored people or African Americans as we were now calling ourselves still had many hurdles to overcome. Portsmouth had certainly changed. A lot had to do with the proximity to Little Creek Naval Amphibious Landing Base located a few miles away. On the weekends it looked like a snowstorm with all of the sailors coming into town in their Navy whites. And, of course there were many Blacks and other ethnic groups included in this mix. Serious problems occurred when the Black sailors tried to integrate the large Steak House Restaurant directly across from the entrance to the Base. Cross Bow's Restaurant had survived for many years on the business from the White Sailors and a few locals who came mostly on Saturdays and Sundays. They did have one Black man washing dishes and handling all janitorial duties. He was a medium built dark complexion man in his forties with very white teeth that he enjoyed showing to the good White folks. Of course on the day of the (Black Invasion) of the restaurant old Sam made sure he kept his proper distance not wanting anyone to think he might be sympathetic to the cause. The sailors didn't really know his name, they gave him the name of Sam, as in SAMBO. The Black Sailors along with a few of their White friends decided to do a sit-in to protest the racist conditions. They were immediately refused service and were asked to leave orderly which they refused to do. Only after the Base Commander was called and MP's were dispatched, did they leave. A meeting was held with all of the Black Sailors & Marines on the base, and an apology was offered by the Base Commander. He stated that on the base everything and everybody were equal. But, outside of the base this was still the South and they had no control on their racist policies. They were given specific orders to avoid going to the restaurant for any reason. Some of the White Sailors who had their own agenda would go across the street and bring back steak dinners on the weekends and make sure that the Black Sailors saw and smelled the food. Several fights started from those episodes, so finally all personnel were banned. Then there was Virginia Beach with its beautiful white sandy beaches located about forty miles from the Base. This Beach was one of Virginia's landmark sites, but again it was for "White only." About half the distance between the Base and Virginia Beach was a small Beach called, "Sea View." This was the "Colored Beach" and had no comparison to the beautiful Virginia Beach. There was a very small beach section, which was not maintained at all. A few of the locals dutifully patronized it and made the best of things. Some Black or Colored Sailors as they were called in the past would go there, but most refused.

As is tradition, where ever there are Naval Bases you will see a lot of Marines. Technically the Marines are a part of the Navy Department and receive their amphibious training there. The Black Marines encountered the same problems as the Black Sailors when it came to what they could do, or could not do because of the color of their skin.

The Marines who seemed to have the most trouble were those who lived in the Northern states and were sent south to train. To the young men who enlisted from the South, overt segregation or hidden racism didn't seem to bother them too much. It wasn't that they were scared to show resistance, they were...