I want to thank Jeff Lisath, Eugene
Collins Sr., and the Facebook site “Northend Reunion” for this
chronicle of Dreamland pool as it relates to Portsmouth history. I
relied strictly upon their accounts to write this summary. It
represents their amazing story. I respectfully submit the writing as
part of Black History Month. I pray it enlightens the readers.
I trust all is accurate according to
the accounts I have read. If there are inconsistencies or things that
need correction, please comment here or email them to me at
frank.thompson51@yahoo.com. And, if anyone can add important details to the chronicle, please
share them.
Dreamland (also known as the Terrace Club for part of its
existence) was originally incorporated in 1929 as a private,
for-profit swimming club. The grounds were more than three acres in
size, and the pool itself was double the standard Olympic size. The
facility was, quite frankly, like no other.
After completion, Dreamland soon became
an unparalleled summer recreation spot for most area residents and a
jewel of Portsmouth's storied past. With one of the largest pools in
Ohio, it was a mecca for swimming, dancing, and a host of other
social and recreational activities.
Dreamland was a vital symbol of developing youth – a place where teenage girls went to show off their new bathing suits and work on their tans as well as a spot where teenage boys displayed their virile agility to attract the queen of their reveries. For most who entered, it was a magic place where hundreds gathered to celebrate carefree summers and engage in joyous rites of passage.
However …
Many do not realize that African Americans were not privileged to
share this treasure for over 35 years. Dreamland was a private,
segregated club, not a public entity. The city did not own the
facility, so general tax money was not used for operation and
maintenance.
Today it seems almost inconceivable that minorities once were
denied entry to one of the most beloved facilities of bygone days.
Yet, the discrimination at Dreamland is a regrettable piece of
history that must never be forgotten. The truth must be preserved for
the benefit of future generations.
Although segregation was not the law in the northern states like
Ohio,
de facto (in
practice but not necessarily ordained by law)
segregation was
a reality.
De facto
segregation remained a common issue in the North, even many years
after
de jure (based on law) segregation was outlawed in the
South. Since there were no laws involved,
de
facto segregation
was harder to combat, and in some ways more insidious, than
de
jure segregation. In this manner, even in the
North, discrimination and segregation remained acceptable at the
time. Thus was the case at Dreamland.
Dreamland remained a white-only institution until 1965. Until
then, blacks weren't afforded the opportunity to join the club.
Neither could they enter as guests. They simply were not welcome
there... period. Confessing the obvious prejudice involved, John
Lorentz, co-manager of Dreamland pool in the 60's, stated, “The
truth of the matter was, if you were white, and (you) could cloud a
mirror, you could become a member by filling out a form. If you were
black and filled out the form, somehow that never got acted upon."
This was the reality of social consciousness.
By the way, it was common to see
discrimination and segregation practiced all over Scioto County
during those years. Few black families lived outside the city, and
even in Portsmouth where almost all African-Americans attended
school, grade school was segregated until the late 1950s from the 1st
through the 8th grade. The black children went to Booker
T. Washington School while the white kids, even those who lived
directly in front of Washington school went to Lincoln Elementary
School.
In addition, even though Portsmouth
High School was integrated, blacks were not allowed to attend the
Junior/Senior Prom until 1954. But, in yet another ugly irony, they
were permitted to showcase their talents on Trojan sports teams.
In those days, black high school
students were forced to have their own prom at the Washington
Elementary School – this is how the school offered them so-called
“equal opportunity.” Then, in 1954, Portsmouth had an undefeated
football season and the black players on the team were particularly
outraged about the segregated prom – they were serving their
community with great distinction on sports teams, but they were not
accepted at their own prom. Their just protests that year finally
ended the practice of having a segregated prom.
This kind of intolerance was a reality
common in the yesteryear of the area. To younger generations today,
the past may seem like a bigoted age, and compared to today, it
surely was. Granted, Scioto County then was not as segregated and
racially intolerant as the Deep South – places like Mississippi and
Alabama – yet equality and opportunity at the time were largely
dependent upon the color of your skin.
Understanding the setting and the
social climate of our forefathers is imperative in acknowledging the
importance of our struggles with equality. Dreamland, an oasis for
whites, was both a remnant of deep social division and an ignition
point of racial change. It is gone forever, but memories – both
good and bad – are forever burned in the local consciousness. This
story will illustrate the importance of something as basic as a
swimming pool and its availability for all.
A Tragic Day
If you were black in those days, your refuge for swimming in
Portsmouth was the dangerous Scioto River. Concerned parents
frequently warned young people not to go swimming in the river. Yet,
impetuous youth are tempted by both risk and adventure. Some things
do not change.
It was there, at the river, on June 9, 1961, that tragedy struck.
14-year-old Eugene McKinley, a black youth from Portsmouth, drowned
as a group of boys swam in a sand and gravel pit west of the the
flood levee at 12th and Chillicothe Streets. In a horrible twist of
fate, McKinley and some of his male friends had decided to go
swimming there to celebrate their last day of school. For Eugene, it
was his final day on earth.
The community mourned their unthinkable loss. Family and friends
were overcome with grief. The tragic event directly led to a movement
by a group of North End citizens including Eugene Collins Sr. (then
age 26), Charles Stanley Smith, Jr. (PHS '50), Curt Gentry (PHS '55),
and others. No one accepted that other blacks should risk life and
limb when Dreamland was right there in the back yard. It was time for
action.
At the time, Collins had just gotten out of the service and was
serving the Portsmouth Chapter of the National Association for the
Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) on its legal redress committee.
Smith was an Air Force veteran who was then working for Empire
Detroit Steel. As president of the local NAACP chapter, he was very
active in community affairs.
Having excelled in all three major sports, Gentry was widely
celebrated as Portsmouth’s most accomplished athlete of all time.
After starring for the Portsmouth Trojans, he played football with
the Chicago Bears, baseball with a minor league affiliate of the
Pittsburgh Pirates, and basketball with the Harlem Globetrotters.
At the time, Gentry was home for the summer from Maryland State
College. Needless to say, the local community considered him a
much-respected icon. Mr. Gentry later served as head football coach
at Alabama Agricultural and Mechanical University and at Lincoln
University in Jefferson City, Missouri.
The Demonstration
Spurred on by the recent drowning and by the injustice of
segregation, the group decided to test the public accommodations
section of the newly enacted Civil Rights law by attempting to enter
Dreamland (aka the Terrace Club). They fully understood the
establishment was operated as a “private” club to bar
African-Americans. It was no secret to anyone in town. Eugene
McKinley's had become the ultimate indignity.
Their goal was to use a demonstration to draw enough attention to
integrate the pool. With the aid of an attorney from the Cincinnati
NAACP, they carefully considered just how to carry out their protest.
The group devised a plan and decided to put it into effect when
Police Chief Tedd Wilburn, a much-respected black official, was out
of town on vacation that summer. They were cautious of the perception
of Mr. Wilburn being able to do his job as chief of police, negating
a conflict of interest. And, of course, the group did not want their
bold protest to jeopardize the position of the chief in any way.
The Northend Community group of Collins, Smith, Gentry,
Gentry's mom, and several underage youth finalized their plan to
enter Dreamland. To help assure success, they gained the backing of
some Northend establishments and a few others in the community. This
support included Dr. James Forrest Scott, who served as the first
black county coroner in the United States, and Verne Hairston, a
prominent black businessman. Many people were too fearful of
retribution to join the plan, and for good reason. They understood
being arrested might cost them their jobs or put them in jeopardy of
who knows what other reprisal.
As the important day drew near, local advisers briefed the demonstrators on proper procedures, and they also made plans to be at the courthouse with bond money in case of arrests.
Then, finally, the time came to set the plan into effect. To be
safe, Mr. Collins and Ms. Gentry stayed outside of Dreamland to make
sure the group was not injured and to inform any police that might
arrive of their simple intentions. The rest of the group – Charles
Smith, Curt Gentry, and the juveniles – went to the window and
offered their money to enter. As expected, the attendant refused to
accept their fee, so, as planned, the group simply laid the correct
admission down on the spot and jumped over the turnstile to get
inside.
According to Eugene Collins Sr ...
"They got inside the pool area... It's very funny because
Curt Gentry couldn't swim, so Curt was running around the pool trying
to find three feet of water so that he didn't jump into the pool and
drown. He got in. (And) the others jumped into the pool. As they went
into the pool, whites began to get out of the pool. Then, lifeguards
blew the whistle two or three times.
“Clear the pool!” the lifeguards shouted.
“They cleared the pool. (Then) they (the management) came over
the loud speaker telling the patrons and the demonstrators, "We
have five illegal people in the pool. If you do not leave this pool,
you will be arrested! You will be arrested!"
Collins explained that probably 50 to 75 percent of the people at
the pool were younger folks who identified with the protesters –
some had even gone to school with them or recognized them as local
sports stars, so they saw their actions as a joke or a funny prank,
and it really didn't bother them. However, many of the adults there
at Dreamland saw the demonstration as a violation of the law and an
attempt to take over something that “belonged” to them. They were
concerned about “just how much further this (protest) was going to
go.”
Collins estimated police cruisers pulled up to the pool in five
minutes. He remembered, “Two police cruisers. They (the police)
came inside. The demonstrators did not resist nor did the whites at
the pool attempt to retaliate. The authorities arrested the adults,
and immediately took them and the youth downtown to jail.
The rest of the core group drove behind the cruisers following them to the station where Dr. Scott and Verne Hairston awaited their arrival. There, an attorney for Dreamland filed charges against the adults and according to Collins “wanted to file charges on the youth.
"
The Aftermath
Charles Smith was quoted in the July 18, 1964, edition of the Portsmouth Times as saying, “Our ‘wade-in’ marked the first time since the opening of the Kendall Avenue pool in 1929 that a Negro knowingly has swum in the pool.”
He also was quoted as asking, “We all go to school together,
live together, why not swim together?”
Dr Scott talked to the sheriff and the police. The Sheriff
Department had the responsibility of filing the charges against the
youth because of the fact that they had to go to juvenile court. It
appeared as if the authorities would arrest the demonstrators.
But then, entered Dr. Scott.
Reportedly, Scott pulled the chief aside, and told him he wanted
to speak to the sheriff. Then, Scott talked to the deputy sheriff.
After this, the authorities eventually decided to release the kids to
their parents and set up a court date for later.
The core group of demonstrators met with Dr. Scott. He said, “An
arrest is not going to happen because I have informed the sheriff
that if he arrests those kids, that I, as the county coroner, have
the authority to arrest him. And I will arrest him. He will be
arrested.”
It is said that the authorities consulted their attorney in
Cincinnati and discovered that the county coroner was the only person
that had the authority to arrest the sheriff. It is believed the
attorney also began uncovering some incriminating records and
damaging files.
Upon further investigation, the people discovered some pertinent
information about the pool. One of the discoveries was that the city
was allowing Dreamland to use water at a much cheaper rate than any
other commercial business. Questions of local government support
raised suspicions.
So, as things began to unravel, more information started coming
out, and the city began to realize that it was going to be a major
problem dealing with this new-found attention. The result? The
children were not arrested, and the charges on the adults were
eventually thrown out.
The police delayed the hearing three different times. Eventually
the charges were thrown out. Some four years later Dreamland was
integrated, yet as an indication of lingering discrimination, the
attendance at the pool declined.
I am 66 years-old and a
lifetime resident of Scioto County. I often speak about my fond
memories of Dreamland – the joyous times spent there with my mother
and father, with my brother, with my friends, with my wife, and with
my own children. I think of the place as a beautiful symbol of our
happy existence.
However, it is my charge to remember that so many others were
denied this bliss and prosperity – they were people who were banned
simply because their skin was dark. Once they were not even afforded
the safe haven of social union and recreation there at Dreamland.
Thanks to a brave group of individuals who bravely fought injustice
and realized their own dream, we live in a more accepting community.
In his tragic end, Eugene McKinley unknowingly ignited a vital
movement. He must never be forgotten.
Today, in 2017, the struggle for equality continues. Much of the
old
de facto discrimination has
faded away, but beneath the improved veneer, a more subtle bias still
lingers. The task we face every day is to accept and love our fellow
human beings for the goodness they possess, not to judge them as
different. As we share and celebrate our diversity, we come closer to
the precious truth that demands we be our brother's keeper.