In a course I taught for Encore Learning, titled “Race and Law in Arlington,” I had difficulty answering one question about incidents of racial injustice: Was there ever any violence in Arlington? 

My answer was incomplete, merely stating that there were no lynchings, murders, or assaults that I knew of. Upon reflection, I should have pointed out the many stories of non-physical forms of violence, consisting of emotional abuse. 

The Eldridge Family: “Mom, why don’t they leave us alone?” This sad question was uttered on a June evening in 1958, by a nine-year-old boy named Bobby Eldridge. Earlier that day, Bobby’s mother, Mildred Eldridge, had been arrested by Arlington policemen at a Unitarian Church picnic in Bon Air Park. Her crime? She was a Black woman attending a picnic in what was deemed, by custom, to be a Whites-only Park. The policemen instructed the Black members of the church to leave, but Mildred Eldridge stood her ground and was arrested. Her husband was working that day, so Mrs. Eldridge asked church friends to take her two children home. 

Mildred Eldridge was charged with the crime of “conduct tending to incite a riot,” which was reduced to disorderly conduct. She was judged to be not guilty at her trial, but this experience highlighted the trauma endured by the Black community.  

Imagine yourself as a youngster, watching your mother get arrested at a church picnic. 

The Hamm Family:  An act of generosity by a White woman in 1959 revealed the heavy burden on the Black parents who were on the front lines of the litigation battle to desegregate. 

Theda Henle lived in a house overlooking Stratford Junior High School in 1959. Before the first day of desegregation by four Black students, Henle wanted to contact the mothers of the children. Henle did not know any of those mothers, so she called Dorothy Hamm, a leader in the Black community. Henle’s idea was to invite the mothers to spend the day at her house, so that they could be closer to their children. 

When Henle called, and extended the invitation, Hamm started to cry. Henle apologized and asked if it was a bad time to call. Hamm said she was crying “…because I’ve had two obscene telephone calls today, and when the phone rang, I said if this is another I’m going to cancel the phone.” This was not the first time Hamm had received threatening calls. 

Imagine what it would be like to be on the receiving end of such calls.  

Hamm stopped crying and expressed thanks for the invitation. The next day, the four mothers, plus two grandmothers, spent the day at Henle’s house. At times, the mothers would get up and walk to the window, to make sure the school had not been bombed.  

The White Prom: Desegregation was a slow process, and prejudicial attitudes seemed to change even more slowly. Two years later, in 1961, White parents decided to create a private, Whites-only prom for the graduating 9^th graders. Word got out that one of the Black students had innocently been sold a ticket. The assistant principal called the student into her office, to retrieve the ticket, and refund the money. Later, the assistant principal revealed that, in response to that demand, the boy was crying in her office.  

Imagine what it felt like for the young man, to be called into that office and faced with such a demeaning demand. 

More stories: The next time I am asked a question about violence during the era of segregation, these will be some of the stories I will share, stories that contradict the headline in the paper after that first day of desegregation: “The Day Nothing Happened.”  Though we might not see physical scars in the battle against Massive Resistance, there was harm done. 

“Mom, why don’t they leave us alone?”: There is no record of any answer given by Bobby Eldridge’s mother. How might you have answered that question?