Goodbye, Robert Booker

[Yet another letter not published by the Knoxville News Sentinel. Robert Booker died this year (2024) at age 89. He was a veteran, an activist for civil rights back in the day, the first black person to be elected to the state legislature from Knoxville, and an administrative assistant to the mayor of Knoxville. But he found his true calling when he became the head of the Beck Cultural Center, which studies and has exhibits about black history and culture. He did that for 17 years and then after retirement continued to serve as an archivist and historian there. He wrote a column for the Knoxville News Sentinel, addressing many black history but also many other topics. I thought very highly of him. The reason that I was so ticked off at the News Sentinel for not publishing my letter is my usual complaint about them: there were op-eds from “important” Knoxville-area people, but nothing from anybody who seemed to be an ordinary person. That was even more true of the three letters they published about him: they were all from bigwigs, like Senator Marsha Blackburn. Most of the pieces they published seemed to be by people who probably knew him slightly, if at all, e.g., Blackburn. I thought too that most of the pieces were completely generic and formulaic, while my letter below would have given readers a more personal view of the man. But that’s the News Sentinel for you.]

When I started reading Bob Booker’s columns, I realized that he and I had a lot in common. He read and admired the poem “Thanatopsis” as a teen; he liked “Amos ‘n Andy”. (Me too!) He had fond memories of time spent in a foreign country as a young adult; he was quietly proud of daring, in his old age, to sing in public. (Me too!) He was interested in history, especially in how people form connections and become a community. (Me too!)

Several years ago, on impulse, I called him at the Beck Cultural Center. We had a good long talk. He spoke the way he wrote – he was cordial, gentlemanly, and nonpolemical. His speech was measured and perfect. (Well, he was an English major in college.) He was black and I am white; he was a man and I am a woman; and he was 15 years older than I am. But speaking together, we were, as a black friend of mine put it, just people.

His death is indeed a loss. Knoxville should be proud of having produced such a nice guy and such a noble spirit.