In the summer of 1961 soon after high school graduation, as an innocent 17 year-old, I took my first trip without family. Good Shepherd Lutheran Church’s youth group, along with youth from several other Lutheran churches in the Eau Claire, Wisconsin area, were embarking on a 4,500 mile coach bus adventure. Our final destination was an American Lutheran Youth Conference in Miami, Florida. Martin Luther King would be the keynote speaker.
We visited many states and historic sites en route. I had never traveled any further south than my Italian grandparents’ home in St. James, Missouri.
We Wisconsin teens likely knew more history about the Civil War than the currently raging 1960s Civil Rights battle.
Our area was the home of the 8th Wisconsin Infantry Regiment. The most famous of those Wisconsin soldiers was Old Abe”, the legendary War Eagle. He accompanied the Regiment into many battles, earning the esteem of Union Generals and the ire of Confederates who tried and failed to shoot the screeching “Yankee Buzzard” from the sky. I knew this history because my high school was named Memorial and our mascot was “Old Abe”. His statue still stands on our high school roof.
On our bus trip we visited many battle grounds of the past, but we had little conversation about the present. The final overnight stop on the trip south was Saint Augustine, Florida, 315 miles north of Miami.
This would be our first opportunity to wash clothes. We had been traveling for over a week. After checking into our hotel, my roommates and I gathered up our dirty clothes and set off for a laundromat, just a few blocks away on Main Street.
First, we purchased laundry detergent. Next, we carefully read all the directions on the big signs. This was our first experience in a laundromat so we wanted to do it right. Just like our mothers back home, we carefully sorted our clothing into two piles: colored and white. Next, we carried our clothing to the machines labeled colored and white. We loaded the machines, added detergent and inserted the coins. That seemed easy enough.
The machines began to fill with water. We were quite proud of ourselves and sat down to wait. Our feelings were quickly replaced by confusion. When the laundry attendant returned, she was obviously very, very upset — with us! We had no clue why we were in trouble.
Turns out, the signs colored and white referred to people, not clothing. Thankfully, the attendant did allow our colored clothes to complete the wash cycle. When the loads finished, she helped us quickly transfer our wet colored clothes to the white dryers.
We Northern teens did indeed learn a lesson. For me? Was this the kindling for my social justice passion that caught fire that day?
Copyright © 2025 Sandy MacLaughlin
I absolutely bought into the story so was as shocked as you were to read what the labels meant!wow! My Minnesota roots would have left me unaware as well! Great story!!
Wow! This is a powerful piece that really highlights how segregation and racism persists in our culture long after the civil war ended. I enjoyed reading it.
Indeed an eye-opener for Northern teens! And to think of those teens born and bred in the South who grew up with such morals and continued to perpetuate them. May bringing awareness to prevailing injustices continue to foster change which honors the dignity and rights of everyone. Your story, Sandy, is a reminder to us all of past injustices. Hopefully laundromats in the South have ceased such blatant signs of prejudice.
Sandy,
I made a little internalized gasp when I read the part about the washer labels. I can imagine you were mortified and the wheels of justice were put in motion.
Your life experiences, shared in your stories, express such perspective and deep meaning.
Thank you for raising my consciousness on all things near and dear to you. Certainly we all need to become more involved in social justice.