Photo by William Walker

The first time I met my 81-year-old neighbor, Eugene Williams, he said, “You know, you and me – we’re making history.” I was hooked. A few days later, I was back on his front porch, sharing pizza and Orange Crush with him and his wife Lorraine. Eugene told me what he meant by suggesting we are history-makers – how we are writing a new story simply by sharing a street and chatting on the sidewalk, the plain things neighbors do. It wasn’t always this way.

Eugene told tales of segregation and injustice, stories of my neighborhood. He recounted what it was like to be the third black family to move on that end of Ridge Street, and he recalled the harsh memory of seeing most of the whites quickly evacuate. Eugene shared how he refused to use the cup labeled for “colored people” that hung above the water fountain at the old silk mill. He told his stories, and I just sat and listened, wondering why we humans do such vile things to one another.

On that late summer afternoon, I walked into a world I never knew up close. I heard stories of my town and the way things once were. But more than anything else, I made two new friends.

Mr. Williams, a Charlottesville native, was born on Dice Street in 1928. Eugene has lived through much: a country clawing its way out of the Depression, WWII, segregation, the monumental Brown vs. Board of Education decision. He has seen many cycles of spring and fall in our city, many versions of city government, many people moving in and out of his town. As I’ve discovered, Mr. Williams has made many, many friends – he is beloved by many people from many walks of life.

And Eugene Williams should be much loved here – he has helped to make Charlottesville a better, more just place to live. When Charlottesville schools refused to desegregate (as did many Virginia public schools), Mr. and Mrs. Williams’ third-grade daughter, Scheryl, was bussed to one elementary while their white neighbor girl attended another. Eugene would have none of it – and he and his wife, along with a few other families, brought suit. Eventually, Scheryl arrived at Johnson Elementary, although unfortunately with a police escort. And again, when his fellow citizens needed an affordable place to live, Eugene risked most of his (and his wife’s and brother’s and sister-in-law’s) savings to purchase and renovate 21 properties that provided 62 affordable housing units for those needing a place with dignity to call home.

Recently, I took my two boys Wyatt and Seth over to the Williams’ house, another conversation on their now familiar porch. I want my boys to know these people and to hear these stories. It will be important for them to remember our shameful past, but it will be even more important for them to meet the good people who refuse to accept the world as it is – and who work to make it better.

Once, I told Eugene that I found myself dogged with the question of what I would have done if I had lived on Ridge Street in the 50s. When the Williams family moved in, would I have moved out? Would I have stayed – but kept my distance? Or would I have been their friend then, as I want to be their friend now? “That’s not important,” Eugene said. “What matters is what you do now.”

And Eugene would be the first to tell you there is much more to be done now. Just a couple weeks ago, he was hounding our city leaders about an issue he believes signals injustice and inequity. He voices concerns about hiring practices and culturally segregated communities and the alarming high school dropout rate. Eugene may be retired, but he has by no means removed himself from the action.

Knee-deep in the action has always been where you would find Eugene Williams. Because he put his shoulder to the work of forcing Charlottesville schools to desegregate and because he put his money and reputation on the line to address the need for affordable housing in Charlottesville, all of us who live here receive the benefit. We owe Eugene Williams our thanks. Thank you, Mr. Williams. Thank you, neighbor.