I've been in Chapel Hill since 1963. Came as a student and stayed. I arrived here with a flat-top haircut, and I graduated from law school with a mustache and hair down to my shoulders. Looked a lot like that blockhead son-in-law of Archie Bunker on TV.

I had never had that kind of epiphany, really, before. And so, I began to think very differently about segregation. It was absolutely wrong that I couldn't go with my friend and have breakfast where I'd always had breakfast because he was brown and I was pink.

I learned to eat other than in Lenoir Hall by the time I was a sophomore, and I ate breakfast every morning at a little restaurant called the College Cafe. I ate there every morning, and knew the names of the waitresses, and that Max, who took your money at the cash register. Everybody knew everybody in there. You didn't even have to order, they just brought you what you ordered as a matter of habit, until my first black friend on campus and I went in one morning, in the spring of my sophomore year to have breakfast. I'd never eaten anywhere with a black person, and it's strange now to look back on it, I don't think I even thought about it. I think we just went across the street to eat breakfast. I ate at the College Cafe and so I said "Let's go there."

So, we went there and we sat down and usually your breakfast was on the table within 20 or 30 seconds of your sitting down, 'cause they saw you come in and they knew what you wanted. But 10 or 15 minutes went by without our being waited on that morning, and finally Larry said "You know, they're not going to wait on us." And I said "What do you mean? They're probably fixing my breakfast right now, they always do." And I hadn't noticed 'cause we were talking that that much time had gone by but he said "No, they're not going to wait on us, now you're going to see." And I said "See what?" and he said "Now you're going to see what its like to be me." And it was like somebody had dropped a concrete block from the roof of the building on top of my head.

I had never had that kind of epiphany, really, before. And so, I began to think very differently about segregation. It was absolutely wrong that I couldn't go with my friend and have breakfast where I'd always had breakfast because he was brown and I was pink.

And uh, a year later,that restaurant was integrated. They were not happy about it, but nor did they treat you badly when you came in to eat. My friend Larry went to Vietnam three years later and was killed the next year. He was the first person I knew and the first friend I lost in Vietnam.