Reflecting on Obama and Martin Luther King
My wife, Nedra, and I were reflecting on our own personal history and journey as it intersects with “big picture” history.
When, newly married in New York City, we moved to Portsmouth, Va. in 1967 to join the then fledgling CBN. Unbeknownst to us, had we desired to marry in Virginia, our interracial marriage would have been illegal at that time in this state. A few months later the law changed; but it took longer for hearts to change.
A short time later, Nedra’s black family members visiting us from New York City, were seen sitting conspicuously on our front porch in Portsmouth one Sunday morning. Our landlord informed us that “the Christians” coming home from church had said that it didn’t look good in the neighborhood to see black people sitting in front of our house; however, Nedra was acceptable with her fair skin. We moved out.
A few months prior to this on April 4, 1968, Martin Luther King had been shot standing on the balcony of his motel in Memphis, Tennessee. I was on CBN’s radio air WXRI at the time. When the news came into us, I immediately interrupted the program I was doing and went on the air and prayed for King. Within moments the phones lit up in the studio. Many people were joining us in prayer, but there was another contingent who warned me that I would get the same thing if I didn’t stop praying for the “n-----!”
CBN at that time was just beginning to build its financial base and many supporters had threatened to withdraw their support if I wasn’t removed from the air. To his credit, Pat Robertson stood with us, and put his relatively new radio and TV station on the line. Today, I’m still here, (although I did leave for a period of 12 years), my marriage of 42 years later is intact, and CBN has grown from those small beginnings to a broadcasting entity seen and heard in over 200 nations throughout the world.
Today in Washington D.C., another interracial man, Barack Obama, stood with his hand on the Bible and was sworn in as the 44th President of the United States.
There is a lot of blood, sweat, tears, and sacrifice on the road behind him, and this white boy from Scotland and my “pecan tan” wife thank God for the journey.
“One blood, out of many nations.”
Scott Ross